[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 147 (2001), Part 16]
[Senate]
[Pages 22049-22051]
[From the U.S. 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 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

[[Page 22050]]

     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, 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.

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       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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