My Redacted Life: Chapter 35 (Con._4)

A growing movement started in Little Rock as I waited for my wedding date. A small but dedicated group of young couples, crazy by most standards, were buying homes, in of all places, the old section of Little Rock known as the Quapaw Quarter. They could buy one of the old mansions for a cheap price. Who wanted them, after all? Many served as apartments, having been divided by their estates to provide some income while the structures deteriorated. Couples with some cash and lots of energy saw something. What?

I learned much about it from working with our architect-on-loan, Charles Witsell. He had become a part of the pioneering group of couples who descended on the area, purchasing historic structures and dedicating a portion of their lives to saving those structures. He and his artist wife, Becky, owned the so-called “Hanger House” on Scott Street and filled their spare time loving and restoring it. He became a legendary expert on the history of the area.

It wasn’t always easy for those dedicated to historic preservation. Many lending institutions had “redlined” the historic area, along with minority neighborhoods, as not the best places to lend their depositors’ money. Also, powerful forces in the real estate community had decided, for example, that South Broadway no longer served the most useful purpose as residential and should convert to a commercial corridor. In most cities in Arkansas, that would have spelled the end of the fledgling movement. This time, though, the young pioneers stood their ground.

The case that brought things to the attention of the public involved plans to remove a grand old historic home at 18^th and Broadway and replace it with a 7-11 Store. A group calling itself the Broadway Neighborhood Association formed a resistance movement. In order to destroy the home for commercial development, the developers had to convince the city to change the zoning. The young folks came to the planning commission hearing with their Battle Flags hoisted. Why destroy the heritage of a city, disrupt an improving neighborhood, and lose a beautiful structure to satisfy the commercial needs of the traveling public? The case made good newspaper copy.

The BNA lost the battle, but started a movement that would lead to partial victory in a war that still rages at times. Old, monied interests assured the planning commission, and later the city board, that there was no historic value to the neighborhood and that commercial development always translated directly into progress for a city. If these young fools wanted to waste their time, energy, and money, that was fine, but don’t encourage them by stopping progress. The young folks spoke their minds, argued, lost, and went home.

By that time, the phone calls had started. A family, enjoying an evening in their beloved old home would receive a phone call. The mortgage company didn’t appreciate their actions. More attempts at interfering with economic development might cause a re-evaluation of their loan, just some information they should know. It was time for his historic preservation silliness to stop. Don’t make them call again.

It proved too late, though. The publicity had awakened a dormant dream. More young couples considered a life of historic involvement and sweat-equity. More older couples decided to stay where they were, despite the despicable efforts by thugs to initiate a tactic known as “block-busting. The public began driving through Little Rock’s Quapaw Quarter District to see what the fuss was all about. A group started a real estate company designed specifically to promote the sale and rehabilitation of historic home in Little Rock. The bullies retreated, as bullies often do.

Weekends, Brenda and I would join the sightseers. We wondered what it might be like to tackle the job of restoring one of these old classics.

Little did we know.

South Broadway before the Arkansas
Highway Department noticed.