DESIGN, Page 110Tacky Nostalgia? No, These Are LandmarksThe doo-wop architecture of the 1950s may not be classy, saypreservationists, but it's a slice of historyBy J.D. Reed
Twenty years ago, it was simple enough to define an
architectural landmark. American beauties like Monticello, the
Smithsonian Institution "Castle" and Grand Central Terminal came
to mind. These days, however, the definitions are becoming a little
trickier -- and a little tackier. Supermarkets, drive-ins, car
washes, neon signs and other exuberant examples of Pop
architecture, mostly from the 1950s, are being touted for
preservation, and some have already been set aside as historic
landmarks by local and state agencies. "Many of the things that
were taken for granted in the 19th century -- factories, mills,
neighborhoods -- people now want to save," says Chester H. Liebs,
historian and author of Main Street to Miracle Mile. "The same
thing is going to happen to this century."
Much of the attention to what critics call the "vernacular
architecture" of the postwar era comes from baby boomers
nostalgically intent on preserving the roadside attractions of
their youth. Groups in six states are seriously studying some of
the teepee-shape motels and iceberg-shape gas stations that still
dot U.S. Route 66, once the main route from Chicago to Los Angeles.
"These places are a part of our history," says Richard Gutman,
author of American Diner. "They are being swept away at a pace that
is astonishing."
The sooner the better, some might think. The '50s and '60s
landscape was one of atomic optimism on the go, of Sputnik-like
motels and space-race tail fins. The style captured an attitude of
innocent adventure in a TV fantasy of stucco and neon. Could Wally
and the Beaver come to serious harm in a drive-in with a giant
ice-cream cone for a roof? George Jetson, it seems, could have been
the master architect of the whole doo-wop decade. Granted, one
thing to be said for those stylistic oddities is that they extended
a warmer welcome than much of today's franchised glitz. Says Arthur
Krim of the Society for Commercial Archeology, which studies
America's commercial history: "To look at a diner or gas station
was a link to a smaller, more friendly world." But not necessarily
a more visually pleasing one.
Still, a hulking hot-dog stand is often a lesser evil than what
some developers want to put in its place. When a new mini-mall
threatened to replace the Minuteman Carwash in Los Angeles, a 1960
building sporting a boomerang-shape decoration on its roof,
neighborhood residents petitioned the Cultural Heritage Commission
of Los Angeles to declare it a landmark. The ploy failed, but the
case attracted the attention of the National Trust for Historic
Preservation, the largest preservation organization in the U.S.
Says trust spokeswoman Courtney Damkroger: "If something like this
gas station is designated a landmark locally, it sets a precedent
for other buildings of its kind."
The debate over the historic worth of these roadside wonders
is sure to continue. Landscape theorist J.B. Jackson thinks saving
car washes and doughnut stores is absurd. Says he: "There's a fake
folksiness at work." Although Liebs somewhat agrees, he feels it
is necessary to study vernacular architecture. "This century," he
says, "is also highways and strips and suburbs." As Chuck Berry
told the doo-wop generation, Roll over, Beethoven, and tell
Tchaikovsky the news.
-- Daniel S. Levy/New York and Tara Weingarten/Los Angeles
