[Congressional Record Volume 147, Number 154 (Thursday, November 8, 2001)]
[Senate]
[Pages S11605-S11607]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]
2001 CONFERENCE OF THE NATIONAL TRUST FOR HISTORIC PRESERVATION
Mr. CHAFEE. Madam President, recently the National Trust for Historic
Preservation held its annual National Preservation Conference in
Providence, Rhode Island. In tribute of my father, the late Senator
John H. Chafee, the
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theme of the conference was ``Preserving the Spirit of Place'' which
honored one of the last speeches he gave before his death.
Particularly during this time of national turmoil, we recognize the
importance of our sense of place as we move about our daily lives.
Liberty and freedom unite all Americans, form our common heritage, and
permit us to cherish our sense of place in the world.
The preservation of our Nation's historic buildings and districts is
a way for us to acknowledge the events of America's rich past and
immortal legacy. The restoration of a downtown square in Spokane, WA;
the revitalization of an old fort in Salt Lake City, UT; and the
renovation of historic homes in Providence, RI; these projects
represent how American ingenuity and perseverance form the building
blocks of our architectural and cultural heritage.
I would like to recognize the work of the National Trust for Historic
Preservation and its dedication to revitalizing historic buildings
across the Nation in order to preserve our spirit of place. I ask that
President Richard Moe's speech at the 2001 Conference of the National
Trust for Historic Preservation be printed in the Record.
There being no objection, the material was ordered to be printed in
the Record, as follows:
2001 President's Report--National Preservation Conference
(By Richard Moe)
I'm very glad you're all here.
We've spoken and heard those words often in recent weeks,
as we've sought comfort and reassurance in the presence of
family, friends and colleagues. It's a sentiment that's
totally appropriate here, because we are a family. That is
really why I'm so glad you're here, so grateful that we can
gather together, can strengthen and support each another as
we try to make sense out of what has happened and try to
figure out where we fit in the new world into which we've
been thrust.
We've heard it said over and over: ``Things will never be
the same again.'' Thousands of lives have been changed
forever. The skyline of our biggest city has been changed.
It's probably no exaggeration to say that the very shape of
our future has changed too--in some ways that we can already
see and in others that aren't yet clear and we cannot yet
see.
But some things remain intact--and maybe even stronger than
before: our appreciation of the traditions and values that
have shaped our country and that still shape our lives; the
bravery, compassion and generosity that we demonstrate when
our fellow citizens are in need; the sense of common purpose
that unites us.
So much has changed since the morning of September 11--but
one thing, above all, remains true and constant: The American
spirit endures.
September 14--just 3 days after these terrible events--was
the anniversary of the firing on Fort McHenry. That was in
1814. One hundred eighty-seven years later, we have all taken
comfort from the same sight that inspired Francis Scott Key.
On the tops of skyscrapers, in front of government buildings,
on police cars and firetrucks and taxis, on the front porches
of thousands of homes, on millions of shirts and blouses and
coats, draped on the blackened wall of the Pentagon, we all
saw it: Our flag was still there.
That's proof that the American spirit endures--and you can
find it on just about every block in every community in this
country. This simple, reassuring fact provides a firm
foundation, I believe, for the work we have to do.
In times like this, our first thoughts naturally are for
the well-being of our families and our fellow citizens. But
beyond these immediate personal concerns, I believe we have a
specific and critically important responsibility as
preservationists. We're all aware of the importance of
healing the nation's physical wounds, of strengthening the
nation's defenses--but we can't lose sight of the importance
of nurturing the nation's soul.
In the context of this pressing need to heal and move on,
our work as preservationists has an importance--a relevance--
that is greater than ever before.
Think for a moment about where the blows fell on September
11. Not on missile bases or factories or power plants or
shipyards. No, the targets were people and buildings that
symbolize America's military and economic strength. Did the
terrorists really believe that an attack on the Pentagon
would bring our military to its knees? Or that destroying the
World Trade Center would shatter America's financial
structure? Probably not--but they recognized the enormous
importance of symbols.
As preservationists, we recognize their importance too. We
know that place has power.
We know that we can read about our history in books, but we
also know that facts on paper are no more or less important
than truth on the ground--truth made tangible in place.
History says, ``This is what happened.'' Preservation says,
``Right here''--and that simple addition gives our knowledge
of history an immediacy that is absolutely essential if we
hope to make an understanding of the past a springboard to a
better future.
Similarly, we can learn about shared values from mentors at
home, in a school or a house of worship, but those values
take on a new and amplified reality when we can see them
embodied in a place. Back in 1966, the visionaries who sought
to define the work of preservation in the groundbreaking
report With Heritage So Rich encapsulated this concept when
they wrote that our movement's ultimate success would be
determined by its ability to ``give a sense of orientation to
our society, using structures and objects of the past to
establish values of time and place.''
The places we cherish--the places that we, as
preservationists, work to save--are symbols, but they are not
abstractions. They are real and tangible. They surround,
support and illuminate almost every aspect of our daily
lives. And they embody our most fundamental values.
The nation's schools symbolize the value of education, the
importance of good citizenship. Our courthouses embody our
commitment to the rule of law. State capitols and city halls
are monumental representations of the grandeur and stability
of democratic government. Shrines like the Lincoln Memorial
and the Statue of Liberty refresh the wells of patriotism
that lie deep within all of us. Churches and synagogues and
mosques symbolize our freedom to worship as we please. Barns
and fields and farmhouses remind us of our strong ties to the
land and summon images of the restless, adventurous spirit
that pushed us across a continent. Main Streets from coast to
coast are a bricks-and-mortar textbook on the virtues of hard
work and free enterprise. Residential neighborhoods
everywhere speak eloquently about the things that we cherish
most: community, family, home.
They are buildings, certainly. But they are much more than
that. They are the places we depend on as anchors in a
restless, uncertain world. They are the wellsprings of the
sense of continuity that one historian has called ``part of
the very backbone of human dignity.'' They are the magnets
that pull us together to commemorate, to celebrate, to mourn,
to mark the major passages in our national life. They are, in
effect, the story of us as a nation and a people--a powerful
story written in wood and stone and steel.
We need them. Preservationists have been saying that for a
long time, and now--probably more than ever before--people
understand what we mean. A part of what makes us human is our
need to belong to a specific place with a history, a
geography and a set of values.
A nation at war needs these places more than ever. Arthur
Schlesinger has written that the recent history of America is
a story of ``too much pluribus and not enough unum.''
In times like these, unity is essential. An understanding
of the history and values that we share is part of the
cultural ``glue'' that binds us together, that keeps our
society from cracking apart into dozens of separate pieces.
If we're to meet the challenge of living in a changed world,
it is imperative that we pledge our best efforts to
recognizing and safeguarding the places that help give us a
sense of community--and a sense of continuity.
We need these places--but we can lose them. We've always
known they are fragile, but last month, in images that will
stay with us for the rest of our lives, we were reminded of
just how quickly and stunningly our symbols can be taken from
us. For some time now, we've been saying that the National
Trust's mission is to protect the irreplaceable. In the
aftermath of September 11 we realize anew, with a terrible
clarity, how important this mission is.
More than 150 years ago, the English artist and critic John
Ruskin wrote, ``Architecture is to be regarded by us with the
most serious thought. We may live without her, we may worship
without her, but we cannot remember without her.'' In times
like these, we need to remember who we are. It's essential to
remember the long process that made us Americans, to remember
the struggles, the crises, the triumphs that we've known in
the past--and to be sustained and empowered by that memory.
This means that more than ever before, we preservationists
must work to ensure that the places that embody what America
stands for are kept safe, firm and alive so that we can
continue to learn from them, be enriched by them, draw
strength and inspiration from them.
So what happens now? It's a complicated question, but it
has, I think, a deceptively simple answer: We go on. As
individual Americans, we'll go on with our lives. As
preservationists, we'll go on with our job, strengthened by a
renewed conviction that our job is essential to the unity and
well-being of the nation we love.
There is plenty of work to be done right now. There is an
entire sector of a city to be repaired or rebuilt. There are
thousands of businesses, institutions and individuals to be
housed. Perhaps most important, there is a wound in the
nation's soul to be healed.
It's an enormous job--and I'm very pleased to report that
the National Trust has already rolled up its sleeves and
started to work. Here's a quick snapshot of what we're doing:
The Trust is participating in a working group of 10 public-
and private-sector organizations that will undertake a
comprehensive,
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coordinated effort to assess damage to historic buildings in
lower Manhattan and deal with other preservation issues
stemming from the tremendous damage in that area.
As an outgrowth of this collaboration with our New York
partners, the National Trust is one of 5 organizations that
have established the Lower Manhattan Emergency Preservation
Fund, which will make grants to help alleviate the impact of
the disaster and to stabilize, renovate, and restore damaged
historic sites in Lower Manhattan. We've already pledged
$10,000 to this fund, and we're prepared to do more. The
Lower East Side Tenement Museum, a National Trust historic
site located within sight of Ground Zero, opened its doors to
shelter those fleeing the financial district on September 11.
Now, as part of its longstanding commitment to programs that
promote cultural tolerance and understanding, the museum--
with support from Trust employee contributions--is launching
new initiatives focusing on understanding the Arab-American
experience.
National Trust staff are also contributing to the Service
Employees September 11th Relief Fund, established to provide
assistance to the thousands of janitors, day porters,
security guards, tour guides and other service employees
working in the World Trade Center and the Pentagon who were
either killed or injured in the attacks, or who are out of
work indefinitely because of the damage to these buildings.
Anyone who wishes to contribute to these funds is certainly
welcome to do so. Already we have collected more than
$11,000. We'll continue to increase this amount with your
help tonight--in the lobby as you leave there will be
volunteers accepting your contributions to this effort. Thank
you in advance for your help. For future and ongoing
contributions, you can get information about them at the
National Trust programs booth in the Resource Center.
These efforts mark the mere beginning of what will be a
long process of recovery and rebuilding. I'm convinced that
it will challenge this organization and the preservation
movement as a whole. Fortunately we are positioned to meet
the challenge effectively. As you'll hear in a few moments,
our financial base is strong and getting stronger. And our
programs to help Americans appreciate their heritage and
strengthen efforts to save it are meeting unprecedented
success.
My confidence in the National Trust's ability to meet this
challenge extends to the preservation movement as a whole.
We've never been stronger. Historic sites across the country
are doing a better job than ever of linking us with our
past and reminding us of its relevance to our daily lives.
There are more--and more effective--statewide and local
organizations than ever before. Together, we're making a
real difference--a difference you can see in landmark
buildings put to innovative uses; in traditional downtowns
given new economic life; in historic neighborhood schools
adapted to provide state-of-the-art learning environments
for today's students; in farmland and open spaces
protected from wasteful sprawl; in historic sites where
interpretive programs bring our heritage alive; and in
communities rescued from decades of disinvestment and
deterioration.
Because of the great strides our movement has made in
recent decades, it's hard to find a city or town where
preservation's benefits aren't clearly and proudly--and even
profitably--displayed. This widespread success is helping
vast new audiences learn what you and I have always known for
a long time: that preservation is not about buildings, it's
about lives.
It's about saving historic places not just as isolated bits
of architecture and landscape, not just as lifeless
monuments, but as environments where we can connect with the
lives of the generations that came before us, places where we
can build and maintain safe, rich, meaningful lives for
ourselves and the generations that will come after us.
Our strengths, our skills, our experience and our unique
perspective will see us through this challenge. But I am
convinced that it won't be easy--and what's more, it
certainly won't be quick. In the altered context in which we
now operate, many questions remain to be answered: How will
the changing and uncertain state of the economy affect us?
How will the events of September 11 affect the growing
momentum of the back-to-the-city movement? Can we take steps
to ensure that smart-growth issues such as improved passenger
rail and mass-transit options and increased development
density are included in the national recovery agenda?
Can we develop innovative, yet sensitive ways to address
the very real concerns for public safety in historic
buildings and gathering places? How can we best help the
public understand the importance of a strong commitment to
historic preservation as an essential component of building
our national unity?
These are tough questions. There are dozens more, all
equally challenging. We'll need time and perspective and lots
of serious conversation before we find answers to them. This
conference provides an excellent forum for starting those
conversations. As Americans, one of our greatest strengths is
our identity. Knowing who we are makes us strong. Knowing
where we came from makes us confident. Knowing the legacy we
have inherited makes us part of a powerful partnership
between past, present, and future.
Passing on that knowledge--of who we are, where we came
from and what is the legacy that shapes and enriches us --is
what preservation is all about. It's what makes preservation
such important--and yes, noble--work. The Talmud tells us,
``We do not see things as they are. We see them as we are.''
As preservationists, we have a unique way of seeing things.
Our vision can help America find its way through the
uncertainties of this new world. We will pass on that vision.
As preservationists, we understand the strength that comes
from a shared sense of the rich heritage that is ours as
Americans. We will pass on that heritage--and the strength
that grows with it.
We know that our work is America's work. We know that the
heritage we share is worthy of our best efforts to save it.
We know that the skills and vision we offer have never been
more important--or more needed. We have an enormous job to
do--but it's the same job we've been doing for a long time,
and we know how to do it well.
So let us go forward with a renewed sense of purpose. The
heritage we preserve will sustain us in these very different
and trying times. The heritage we pass on will enrich and
inspire generations of Americans to come.
May God bless our work as preservationists. May God bless
America.
Thank you.
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