by Joe Sullivan
When Cherokee Country Club acquired the J. Allen Smith house in 1999, it should have anticipated the groundswell for the historic home's preservation that's ensued.
The country club's plans to demolish this landmark to make way for a parking lot and practice putting green fly in the face of mounting sentiment for protecting the community's heritage.
More than a dozen neighborhoods and residences have been brought under the city's historic overlay (H-1) zoning since it was adopted in the 1970s. The Dowell farm house off Middlebrook Pike and Knollwood and an antebellum mansion on Bearden hill are two prime examples of residences that have gotten H-1 protection in recent years. While the Smith house on Lyons View Pike is of more recent origin, its imposing Italian Renaissance Revival façade, built in 1915, is emblematic of an era. Indeed, it is one of only two 20th century residences pictured in the 1976 book, Heart of the Valley, that is Knoxville's history book of record.
The fact the Smith house is now surrounded on three sides by Cherokee Country Club does not take away from its historical significance or its architectural resplendence. (It is acclaimed by many as perhaps the finest residential work of one of Knoxville's most renowned architects, Charlie Barber.) The 1.4 acres on which the house resides surely provide enough space for the additional parking the club claims it needs. The thought of tearing the house down to clear ground for a practice putting green seems preposterous.
Yet spurning the appeals of preservation-minded members for renovation of the house for any one of many potential uses, the club's hierarchy on Feb. 20 sought a demolition permit from the city. This permit was denied, however, because Mayor Victor Ashe on Jan. 16 had applied for historic overlay zoning on the property.
Last week, the Metropolitan Planning Commission unanimously approved the H-1 zoning, and City Council with the mayor's strong backing is expected to follow suit in April. Under this zoning ordinance, any modifications to a building, let alone its demolition, must be approved by the city's Historic Zoning Commission, which is very preservation-minded.
In the wake of MPC's action, its executive director, Norm Whitaker, observed that, "Sometimes, a cooling off period during which you get knowledgeable people to look at alternatives can create a win-win situation for the property owner and the community."
Unfortunately, the club is proceeding hot-headedly instead with a lawsuit contesting the validity of the denial of its demolition permit. The suit seeks a court order directing the city to issue the permit so demolition can proceed. Lawyers involved say it's not material to the suit whether H-1 zoning is subsequently adopted, only whether the city was entitled to deny while the zoning application was pending on Feb. 20.
City attorneys insist there's ample precedent for denial under an ordinance that provides for a 180-day moratorium on issuing permits under such circumstances. But far be it from me to predict the outcome of a lawsuit.
One thing does seem clear, however: If Cherokee Country Club prevails in court, it will be a Pyrrhic victory. Demolition of the J. Allen Smith house will not permit the club to proceed with its desired parking lot and practice putting green. Rather, it will take a change in the property's residential zoning, which City Council must approve.
Under its present R-1 zoning, only three uses are permitted: (1) a single family residence; (2) an electric power substation: and (3) growing crops. If the club's poobahs thumb their nose at H-1 overlay zoning, their chances of getting any desired zoning change appear slim to none—certainly as long as Victor Ashe is mayor and probably for many years thereafter. On the other hand, if the club or a third party developer works with MPC on a renovation of the house and grounds for other uses, its chances of getting the requisite zoning change appear quite good.
Lest this column sound like an unbridled attack on Cherokee Country Club, let me be clear that the club has many wonderful members—of whom its president, Frank Addicks, is certainly one. Individually, they are among the most civic-minded people in this city. Yet their collective decision-making processes seem to bring out the worst in them, at least in this case.
Turning a deaf ear to public opinion and elected officials alike serves to reinforce perceptions of the club as exclusionary and insular. If it persists on its present course, either a vacant house or a vacant lot on Lyons View Pike could well become a monument to that insularity.
Editor's Note: Joe Sullivan is a member of Cherokee Country Club.
March 20, 2002 * Vol. 12, No. 12
© 2002 Metro Pulse
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