In the mid-’50s, an industrious Denver developer named H.B. Wolff erected a conspicuous neighborhood in the southwest part of town called Krisana Park.
The houses Wolff built were known as 3-D Contemporary – California contemporary, to locals – and Krisana Park was promoted as Denver’s first “properly planned” subdivision.
The distinctive designs were based on the work of Joseph Eichler (www.eichlernetwork.com), an innovative California architect who helped define that modern West Coast look from the late 1940s through the 1970s.
And yes, Krisana Park looks like it belongs in Malibu – or at least, how I imagine Malibu should look: abundant skylights, low-pitch roofs, open interiors with vaulted or beam ceilings and West Coast-style carports. Yet there it is, tucked away a few blocks from its sister modernistic enclave, Lynwood, in Virginia Village.
Nowadays, these neighborhoods have increasingly netted urban hipster types: Martha Stewart gardens, Pottery Barn interiors, Volvos and good vibes.
Krisana Park has been discovered. And now, some residents want to make sure it retains its uniqueness.
Recently, at a well-attended neighborhood powwow – what an attendee I spoke with called an “icebreaker” – local homeowners discussed the possibility of designating Krisana Park and Lynwood as historical preservation districts to safeguard the neighborhoods’ architectural integrity.
How historic is a neighborhood like Krisana Park? And what sort of practical purpose does officially preserving it actually have?
There are 43 historic districts in Denver. Many of them – Larimer Square, for instance – are well worth safeguarding. Others – say, Officer’s Row in Lowry – probably deserve only special designation for being the most uninspired buildings ever erected.
The Landmark Preservation Ordinance charge is to “designate, preserve, protect, enhance and perpetuate those structures and districts, which reflect outstanding elements of the city’s cultural, artistic, social, economic, political, architectural, historic or other heritage.”
But since Denver homeowners are already saddled with stifling zoning regulations, adding a preservation status often does little more than destroy whatever individuality and flexibility homeowners now enjoy.
Once it’s so designated, for example, a Krisana Park hipster couple who decide they want to expand the family unit will be hard-pressed to find the space. A typical California contemporary runs 1,200 square feet with no basement.
Could they decide to restructure the carport into a connected room?
Well, probably not. The original design is compromised. What is and isn’t allowed will depend solely on the arbitrary whims of a Denver Landmark Preservation Commission.
There are other, more philosophical, objections. For instance: Who the heck are they to tell me I can’t build a clubhouse or a modest extension in my own *$%?@$ yard?
With designation, however, it would essentially become government’s job to micro manage your home-improvement projects.
So how can neighborhoods like Krisana Park preserve their historic roots without actually designating themselves historic?
Well, the same way they’ve done it for 50 years: the market. A middle-class family will rarely invest in a 30-year loan for hundreds of thousands of dollars to park an El Camino on the front lawn of their new house. Neighborhoods worth saving will be always be saved.
Zoning is needed for safety reasons and protecting the rights and investment of neighbors. No one wants his goofball neighbor popping the roof and erecting a 10-story building.
These days, however, historic preservation has become, as some call it, hysteric preservation. Hysteric, as in how you’ll feel hauling a zoning lawyer downtown to ask permission to build a new brick barbecue in your backyard.
David Harsanyi’s column appears Monday and Thursday. Reach him at 303-820-1255 or dharsanyi@denverpost.com.
