By JIM BROOKS
NELSON COUNTY GAZETTE

Wednesday, March 21, 2006 - No matter your personal feelings about historic zoning, you can't disagree with the fact that Sandra Spalding has moxie.

Sandra Tappan Spalding

The wife of former Bardstown Mayor Harry Spalding was in the news recently because of her run-in with local historic zoning statutes over a split-rail fence installed at the Spalding's historic "Edgewood" home -- a property which is certainly on the "A List" of historic homes in Bardstown.

To recap the controversy: The Spalding's split-rail fence didn't meet historic zoning requirements. Specifically, the fence wasn't the proper style and was made of the wrong wood. According to city preservation director David Hall, the fence -- according to historic zoning requirements -- was deemed "inappropriate."

The word "inappropriate" has significant meaning in the light of historic zoning statutes. Historic zoning requires all alterations to be constructed with period appropriate materials -- or materials that appear period-appropriate.

For example, replacing windows in a historically zoned property means putting back windows that appear to be period-authentic, even if Gilkey Windows made them.

But in many cases, exterior materials must match those that might have been used when the home was built, and this was the rub in the Spalding's case. Wrong type of wood equals "inappropriate" fence, and in order to correct the error, the offending materials must be removed or replaced with appropriate materials.

According to Hall, a Western Ridge Cedar would have been appropriate for Spalding's fence. I doubt that's something you can buy at Lowe's, but I'm sure it's available from one supplier or another.

The historic zoning statutes have been in place for approximately 40 years, and they've kind of become the alcoholic uncle who visits your family on holidays. Nobody likes him, but everyone has to tolerate him every time he shows up for dinner -- and it's usually the newcomers to the family who bitch the loudest about his behavior.

Overall, historic zoning has had many positive impacts on Bardstown, there's no denying that.

But in all my years living in Nelson County, the only people I've heard sing praises for Bardstown's historic zoning ordinances are local politicians and a rather small group of preservation-minded people.

The goal of historic zoning is to preserve the character and flavor of neighborhoods within the zoned district, mostly by controlling exterior modifications to properties and regulating demolition and construction of new buildings.

Historic zoning in Bardstown has done all of that. But at what cost?

I've known lots of people who own property or businesses in the downtown area, and I've never met one who had universal praise for historic zoning. While most won't admit it for publication, the reverse is true: There's no love lost for historic zoning.

If I had a nickel for every complaint I've heard, I could probably afford to live in the historic district -- but that's the topic of another article.

In Bardstown, it's never been socially acceptable to publicly criticize historic zoning. Oh sure, most people will grumble privately, but for whatever reason, few people have gone public with complaints about historic zoning.

Of course, the Historic Review Board is an un-elected body whose recommendations are pretty much followed verbatim by the Bardstown City Council. The review board members take their job seriously, and the council rightly gives their recommendations great weight.

Griping about historic zoning is seen by some as a sign of selfishness; you put your own concerns over the need of the "greater good" -- which is what the special zoning represents. Why, some might consider those who gripe about historic zoning as "un-Bardstownian."

For proof of this, just simply look for former Mayor Harry Spalding's comments defending the fence on his Edgewood home. Hmmm ... the former mayor's silence is deafening. Apparently Harry's not so wild about chiming in on this issue. His opinion page column -- ironically placed in the same issue of the Standard with his wife (and her fence) on the front page -- was written about a rather milquetoast topic (though rather ironically timely in its own right): encouraging people getting along.

But when it comes to the fence, I suspect the former mayor realizes the old adage is true: "You can't fight City Hall."

Not everyone who lives in the historic district gripes about it. From what I've seen, the majority of people go public with their complaints are frequently "brought-ins" -- people who aren't Bardstown born-and-raised. Locals realize that brought-ins who haven't lived here for a "suitable" length of time (a decade or two) seldom grasp the "delicacy" of historic zoning. Brought-ins are normally quickly forgiven for their transgression.

Besides, they still have to deal with the Historic Review Board to get anything done -- that can be penance enough for most sins shy of murder.

Part of the reason I suspect you see few public complaints is that like it or not, the Historic Review Board has the ultimate power to approve or deny projects. As Mrs. Spalding pointed out, these unelected officials have a great deal of power.

Ask anyone who has built -- or tried to build -- a home or addition to a property in the historic district. You'll hear how quickly they found their ideas at odds with the review board, which in its defense, is only trying to follow its mandate.

But I suspect that Mrs. Spalding struck quite a chord with other residents by her statements printed in the March 3rd edition of The Kentucky Standard. Writer Bob White's article framed the issue perfectly, to wit:

“If your (sic) new and artistic, God forbid you move to Bardstown. They will chew you up and spit you out,” (Spalding) said of local decision makers. “They’re inviting people from all over the world and then telling them ‘no, no, no.’”

“Over my dead body will they take this fence down,” Spalding said. “Communism is here and I’m not going to aid and abet it.”

“This place oppresses anyone that doesn't fit into a cookie cutter,” she said. “People have left Bardstown because of that reason.”

Strong words, indeed. Spalding called it like she saw it, but in the end (and reported first by Tom Isaac of PLG-TV 13) the Historic Review Board prevailed and Spalding took the fence down.

Spalding of course is claiming some sort of spiritual victory over the review board. Fortunately, the board has no authority over spirituality unless it manifests itself via some exterior improvements to a historically zoned property. In retrospect, I suspect the sign she nailed to a tree proclaiming her victory is itself a violation of several ordinances -- but I wouldn't want to be the one to point that out to her.

So where do you draw the line on the powers of the Historic Review Board? Is historic zoning too restrictive? Is it still accomplishing its mandate to preserve and protect the historic nature within the historic zone?

Everyone who owns property within the district will have a different answer. Balancing the historic preservation with the need to grow is a juggling act that's likely to leave one side or the other dissatisfied. With the city's downtown future undergoing close analysis, I suspect we'll see a need to re-examine historic preservation in a little more progressive -- and tolerant -- light.