The city of Minneapolis will be holding another round of surveys meetings to identify historic homes, something we haven't done since the '70s. Back then, historical preservation mean "taking a picture before they bulldozed a Victorian manse for a white box that looked like a Swedish mausoleum." Old houses were usually mauled by modernist overhauls perpetrated by designers who thought the best way to highlight those exquisite wood moldings was with mirrored-foil wallpaper and purple rugs. Also, you should paint over the wood, preferably with something full of lead.
Now people spend a lot of money making old houses look just as they did when they were built, except for the addition of a Jacuzzi, which the stern, righteous Minneapolitans of yore would have called "The Devil's Swirly-Pool." If you're wondering if your house is historic, here's what doesn't count:
1. We watched the 1980 Winter Olympics hockey team beat the Russians down there in the rumpus room.
2. Grandma had a dream about Hubert Humphrey in the sun porch, didn't stop giggling for hours.
3. Rudy Perpich drove past, looking for a house that turned out to be down the block. Well, it looked like Perpich, what with the hair and the big glasses.
What does count: old. Famous architect. ("Hank Lloyd Wright" does not count; must be an exact match.) Also, someone famous lived there. Bingo: Ours was built by a candy manufacturer whose confections stuck in the molars of American children for decades. Let me rephrase that: For decades he made a caramel candy which eventually, through brushing or removal of the molar, was dislodged. Not only do I want historic status, I want my mortgage paid by the Minnesota Dental Association.
Of course, some fear getting a historical designation, because it means you can't change anything. Codswallop! Want to put in halogen lights in the kitchen? Fine! As long as they're powered with whale oil. But these terms miss the point. Everything is historic. Doesn't mean it's good; doesn't mean everything must be preserved ,without exception. But what's contemporary to you is history to your kids, and hence boring -- and a relic of a golden past to the generation after that. Ah, to live long enough to see them fight for the preservation of a ghastly overscale McMansion. It's the only example of substandard poisonous Chinese drywall we have left!
jlileks@startribune.com • 612-673-7858 More daily at www.startribune.com/popcrush.
