Prior to deciding to tackle my nondescript 1960’s Split-level, I was searching in earnest for the perfect small town to relocate to.  You know; perfect.  Perfect as in a small town with lots of intact historic architecture which was still affordable.  The kind of town with lots of character but not blighted by gentrification and misguided “restorations”.

As physically traveling was neither appealing or practical, I employed the use of Google Maps.  For weeks I spent a good deal of time each evening methodically canvassing target areas – I would zoom in to the satellite views of each small town within these areas to ascertain whether or not the town had potential.  As I zoomed into each town, I would focus on the downtown area.  From my lofty aerial perspective, I could quickly ascertain whether or not the town had a reasonably intact central business district comprised of traditional narrow storefront buildings, or whether it had been blighted by empty lots and recently constructed boxy buildings.

Regardless of my initial assessment, I would pick an interesting looking intersection and drop into Street View mode.  Vicariously “driving” around the streets and neighborhoods of towns I had never been to was quite fun, and frequently my efforts were rewarded by finding buildings or houses of suitable architectural interest.  When finding a building a building which really piqued my sense of history and love of quirky architecture, I would jump back into satellite mode to take a look at the place from the air.  The times in which my dreams were shattered were numerous; I would frequently find that the site was now a vacant lot or otherwise “redeveloped”.

I quickly realized that the satellite images and Street View images were not, of course, taken at the same time.  Often there are years of difference between these images.

I also realized how quickly our physical history is being disposed of.  Our oldest and most valuable (in terms of physical connection to the past) resources are routinely being dumped in landfills.  It’s not just a regional thing; it’s a national thing as well.  The historic preservation movement has made some progress over the past half century, but obviously not enough.  Most places have a few grand houses or impressive buildings which are revered with some sort of landmark status, but those only tell part of the story.  Often the most important buildings are the small and modest structures where all the initial action took place when our communities were growing.  When these structures disappear from within and around our downtown areas, they disappear forever – making it impossible for future generations to have any real concept of their town’s history.

Fortunately, Street View is providing a record of what once was.  I’ve since found that, when using Street View,  the date seen in the upper left-hand corner of your screen is frequently clickable.  You may be presented with a timeline to click on: this will enable you to time-travel and look at a given location at each time Google recorded it.

Here are a few “before and after” sets to illustrate the kind of jolt that you, too, can receive when remotely surveying a town online:

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This corner building in Chillicothe, Missouri, was recorded in 2008.  It caught my attention for two reasons:  1) It has obviously been altered, but it retains some nice arched Italianate windows on the side, and 2) the angled skylight suggest that there was likely a photographer’s studio on the second floor in the 19th century.  Photographers of the period favored North light for their studios, and this type of skylight was commonly used by them:

Yes, it’s been altered, but it is still an interesting building with an interesting history. It maintains a presence on the corner in spite of its compromised integrity.

This is what the corner looked like the next time that Google drove through town in 2013:

Just what this intersection needed – another flat, blank, white wall. Oh, the strip of grass and equally spaced trees is a nice touch; that fixes everything, doesn’t it? /sarc

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I found this fascinating commercial block in Cawker City, Kansas, which is quite beautiful, even if in bad shape.  As long as it’s standing, it can be saved.  Yes, it takes time and money, but mostly desire and a little know-how.  All seem to be in short supply these days.

Note how the three buildings at left are set back a normal distance from the street while those to the left are set back much further; this type of jog is quite rare (if not entirely unique) in Kansas.  An unlikely survivor, this mostly-intact block of 19th century commercial buildings begs for a community of visionaries.  March, 2014.

I’d guess that the tired, worn-out, excuse of “The buildings are just too dilapidated; they can’t be saved.” was used to justify the buildings’ collective fate; this is what the site looked like a few months later in June:

What are the odds that this empty corner will ever have anything of appropriate size, scale and character built on it in the future? (Hint: Zero)

Oh, well, who needs historic architecture when you have The World’s Largest Ball of Twine across the street (one block west)?

People will gawk at a novelty – and even take photos of it – but very few seem to care about authentic history.

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Hmmmm…….  this place looks interesting!  Quirky, angled streets which break from a more conventional grid often suggest that interesting buildings may be present.  Trenton, Missouri, has a playful street layout and lots of attractive, quirky, buildings downtown.

There’s a potentially interesting wedge-shaped block at the corner of E. 9th and Halliburton… dropping into Street View:

Looks good on the map… I wonder what that little wedge-shaped lot (circled) looks like?

What fun! An old stone church on it’s own little island!  How nice that it has remained relatively unaltered; it must be loved along with its charming context!

OOOOOooops…. spoke too soon!  As I “drove” down the street, I found that a more recent Street View from 2014 had been stitched into the old Street View.  Here’s what this formerly charming church-on-an-island looks like today:

Another bit of character bites the dust. Not only is there a lackluster addition, but the side street has been done away with – making this place just another corner building somewhere.

With the closure of the side street and a new addition, the diminutive tower has lost prominence.  A sidewalk connects to a parking lot (of course) effectively erasing the island character the church once enjoyed. I know; at least they didn’t tear it down.  But still…

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This group of three late 19th-century houses in Beatrice, Nebraska, caught my eye; the steep gable of one shows a Gothic Revival influence. It’s 1 1/2 story construction and location adjacent to the central business district suggest that it is one of the town’s oldest surviving houses. A fourth house (at right) was previously converted to a business. Their significant age (for the area) and close proximity to the central business district make them attractive candidates for restoration.

Relatively intact 19th century houses adjacent to central business districts are becoming increasingly rare in small towns throughout the country.

Then I had to go and ruin it all by looking at this enticing enclave from above.  Apparently Beatrice needed yet another paved surface to hold cars:

Fast-forward to 2016… the line with arrows indicates the area seen in the photograph above from 2012. Two of the houses have been replaced by a parking lot.

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Here’s another sad discovery – this one in Seward, Nebraska:

The kind of building (originally 3 adjacent storefronts) that gives scale and character to smaller downtown areas. It’s been altered, but is still an important part of the character of this street in 2012, and it could be restored or renovated.  The block’s decay has already begun; several gaps in the streetwall indicate empty or under-utilized lots.  Sixth and South streets, Seward, Nebraska.

Three short years later:

2015:  Restoration is no longer an option.  The downtown area appears to have shrunk. The vast amount of open space and blasé modern building feel more like a suburban development than the historic core of a small Midwestern town.

Let’s take a look from the sky:

Another Midwestern town obsessed with parking lots. No wonder – it’s a bank. God forbid anyone park on the street and walk into a proper downtown building free of landscaped car storage!

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It’s just too easy to find this kind of damage to small towns and cities across the country.  We’re not only losing history, but tangible resources – and with them the possibility of a far more interesting, meaningful, and even profitable future than is possible once the resources are gone.  My dreams of finding the perfect small town were dashed.  I waited too long – too much has been destroyed or compromised.  The same cancerous mentality is found throughout the Untited States:  Old is bad; new is good and an empty lot is better than a dilapidated building.

However, I did stumble across two places which really intrigued me, which comprised my short-list of places to move to.  It was a tie between Edina, Missouri and Eureka Springs, Arkansas.  I’ve posted here about Edina, and will post about Eureka Springs at some point in the future. Both towns are fascinating in their own way.  Ultimately I realized that there is no perfect place, and with the country in its current state of disarray, I opted to stay in the same preservation-challenged area that I have lived in for the last 8 years.  Instead of moving to an architecturally satisfying environment, I’ve decided to blog about the ongoing destruction of history and simultaneous decay of design consciousness.   While I am thoroughly enjoying working on my 1960’s Split-level, I do still yearn for an old place; an Italianate or Greek Revival that needs some TLC.  Hopefully my Split-level won’t be jealous if just look from time to time…