"Cold November Rain"

Twenty years ago, the Rock-n-Roll hit “Cold November Rain” by Guns N’ Roses hit the US Billboard Hot Chart and peaked at Number 3.  In 1992, November came, it rained, and, yes, it was cold that Sunday morning when about eight neighbors stood on North Spring Street with protest signs to catch the attention of members of the First Baptist Church as they were heading to and leaving from church services.  The issue of the morning was to save the 2-story Victorian home of Bess Truman’s uncle, Judge Gates, at 322 North Spring.  More than just attempting to save a single home, the goal was to save an important Presidential neighborhood that had taken some huge hits in the previous decade by church expansion.  The 300-400 block North Spring, once part of the city’s Truman Heritage District, was possibly the only remaining block of uninterrupted Victorian structures in Independence (and many of those still had carriage houses until a few years before that).  At that time, the home was an important stop for tourists on the National Park Service neighborhood walking tour guided by Park Service Rangers.  In fact, in the early 1990’s, we had several times more tourists visiting Independence than we do today.  Those neighbors with the signs did get the church’s attention but enough to get them to expedite the demolition process, pull in a few strings, get their demolition permit the following day, then run a bulldozer through the home that afternoon, just hours before the City Council meeting.  The First Baptist Church choreographed the event to the minute and pulled off the upset like a Peyton Manning 2-minute offense.  Neighbors were told by city officials that there would be time to discuss and debate, but there wasn’t.  The outrage in the community and on the City Council was so prevalent that the council unanimously approved a demolition moratorium that covered the entire city (the moratorium still exists today in the form of our demolition ordinance).   With the demolition of 322 N. Spring, the First Baptist Church was allowed to construct another entrance into their large parking complex and add a few parking spaces.  The church now had eight entrances from four public streets and alleys.  The church also constructed a suburban-style brick and marble entrance monument that didn’t meet code and size standards in the zoning ordinances.  Neighbors filed a complaint and even convinced the City Board of Adjustments it was wrong and that it needed to comply.  But, as usual, it really didn’t matter; the sign was already built, set in marble and brick, and allowed to remain.  Keep in mind, 9 years before this event, the church demolished several historic homes on west side of Pleasant Street located in the National Historic Landmark District in order to have expanded parking facilities.  And remaining church-owned rental properties on Pleasant and Spring Streets continued to deteriorate awaiting their judgment day.  These local stories of community preservation are well-documented have even been discussed in national venues and conferences.  I’m bringing it up because it’s the twentieth anniversary of the Gates House demolition and because we still, even today, haven’t learned from these stories of our recent past.  Just a few months ago, another prominent institution submitted to the Heritage Commission for demolition a home at 112 N. Crysler (which wasn’t an isolated case).  The Commission rejected the demolition because it was considered “Demolition by Neglect.”  In November of 1992, in the aftermath of the loss of the Gates Home on Spring Street, there was a neighborhood meeting held at the Memorial Building.  Many neighborhood folks showed up including the NPS Superintendent, Ron Mack.  The most memorable person ended up being an elderly gentleman dressed up in a suit and tie claiming to represent the RLDS Church.  He made the most profound statement of the evening:  “We're not here to preserve history.  We’re here to make history!”  He was certainly correct.  History was unfolding then and even today.  It’s the story of one of the most historic communities in the nation that was content to witness much of the visual evidence of that history disappear through Urban Renewal, expansion of churches, and neglect, then wonder why heritage tourism numbers are down. When there is pride in your community, and more importantly, pride in the history of your community, then self-promotion comes naturally.  And successful self-promotion fills not only museums but retail stores, restaurants, hotels, and seats at the Events Center.  Every time I hear "Cold November Rain" on the radio, it reminds me of that Sunday morning 20 years ago.