Preservationists in private practice must find ways to satisfy their idea of authenticity while also considering influences like cost, efficiency, public safety, reuse and taste of the site’s owner. The vocabulary of authenticity is such that it creates a standard that must be upheld. When outside forces, like those just mentioned, become involved in a preservation project, it becomes more difficult to uphold the standards we have set for ourselves. The inner struggle of a preservationist begins.

Purists love to criticize corporations and development that seem to cheapen the ideal of American architecture, like Disney and Celebration, Florida. It is cutesy and picturesque. It seems contrived and falsified. Preservationists generally disparage projects that fall into these categories. They are viewed as less authentic, but perhaps these projects are simply more obvious to those not directly involved than are preservation ventures. Preservationists are often called upon to produce contrived or somewhat falsified results; however, these terms are euphemized and camouflaged with the term interpretation.

Is it any less contrived to remove later renovations to bring a site back to a certain time period? Are hidden reinforcements that make it seem like the building contains only original material for stability any less false? Situations like these, however, are necessary evils and accepted as common practice. Of course, the preservationist tries to be historically sensitive with every change that must occur in order to keep or put a building back in use, but some compromises are unavoidable. Inconsistency is also prevalent, since each situation calls for a specialized solution. The definition of authenticity and the approach to achieving it are altered from site to site. At times there are even inconsistencies between elements within the same project. S. Harris & Co. is currently working on such a project.

Crescent Resources is a Charlotte, NC-based development corporation that has acquired a 20,000-acre site in Bluffton, SC. The parcel is located between Hilton Head, SC and Savannah, GA, and sits along the banks of the May River directly across from the town center of Bluffton. The lower-density development plan includes single homes, a small hotel and museum, a village-like commercial area, and significant recreational space devoted to environmentally friendly pursuits, such as fishing, canoeing, walking, and bicycling.

The site’s history is a colorful one, and the significant landmark the Crescent team intends to preserve is the remains of Palmetto Bluff—a turn-of-the-century Biltmore-style mansion built by R.T. Wilson, Jr. Wilson’s father, R.T., Sr. was a wealthy financier and Vanderbilt co-investor who had made a vast fortune playing the stock market during the post-civil-war industrial boom. He purchased the bluffs during the late 1800s, built a lodge, and entertained the various social elite of that time. By all accounts, the senior Wilson was a charming, charismatic fellow, whom some historians suggest was the inspiration for the wily Rhett Butler character in Margaret Mitchell’s post-Civil War classic Gone with the Wind. By his death, Wilson’s four daughters had all married into very affluent families and so the entire parcel was left to his oldest son, R.T., Jr.

It was R.T., Jr., also a financier as well as a horse racing aficionado, who commissioned construction of Palmetto Bluff in 1910.  It was an elaborate 72-room mansion replete with marble ballroom, indoor plumbing, and other luxuries.  For more than a decade, the house was the site of numerous grand parties, until a fire destroyed most of the structure in 1926. A year later, the entire property was sold. From 1937 until its sale to Crescent Resources in 2000, the land was owned by Union Camp, a paper company that maintained the site as an entertainment and hunting retreat.

What remained of the original mansion were thicket-covered ruins of the original oyster concrete foundation, the front steps, and the dilapidated remains of the four original porch support columns. Two of the columns had crumbled to shorter stumps, one was left standing and the fourth was gone from its base completely.

The developer has made the Palmetto Bluff ruins its project centerpiece—creating a logo based on them, adopting the Palmetto Bluff name for the planned community, and making the mansion site the heart of its "downtown" district by creating a park within the house’s original and now ruined footprint.

Various options were proposed. Simple external braces could be added. A supporting piece of sculptural artwork could be created. The development team objected to these "additive" things which they felt detracted from the column’s historic interpretation—a sound preservation principle.

Another option proposed was to fracture and disassemble the column, insert a steel pipe through its core, and return it upright, anchored into the ground. The column would be seemingly frozen in time, made safe, and its original "look" preserved. Our firm, however, was uncomfortable with this misrepresentation not being authentic.

The final and chosen option suggested that the column could be taken down and laid on the ground. This addressed the safety issue while still preserving the remnant’s physical integrity. The developers felt wistful about the visual loss of that standing column, but appreciated the preservation objectives this action would achieve. So, rather than introducing a new material, we artificially sped up time -also not authentic. We pulled the column down at an angle that was carefully calculated to be the angle at which it would have fallen eventually on its own. Why did this seem like the more comfortable choice? There is no answer to that question that is easily defended with hard evidence: it just seemed like the right thing to do in the situation.

Plans were also approved to remove most of the back portion of the home’s original foundation, to manipulate and level the front steps for safety, and to modify the front foundation slightly to keep it at grade with the park lawn. Why in the name of authenticity did we allow that to happen? Perhaps it was because some of the foundation would be saved, and some is better than none. Modification of some of the remaining walls took place for safety reasons; others were purely aesthetic. Why was that alright with us? Again, there is no easily defended answer: it just did.

The authenticity of the altered elements is questionable; they have been altered, after all. However, the history of the site will still be interpreted, although picturesquely, rather than being erased in the interest of development. The public’s safety is protected. Much of the original material has been preserved. The client is pleased. Palmetto Bluff illustrates that purely adhering to the Secretary of the Interior’s preservation standards is often difficult if not impossible. The complex reality of any given project rarely conforms neatly to these principles.

In the preservation business as opposed to the theory of preservation, there are no pat formulas that can be followed to arrive at a correct approach to any preservation project. This is because there will always be equally valid objectives that contradict one another. (In this case, integrity and safety vying with authenticity, marketability vying with historic interpretation)

What is important and, in the end, the measure of what is authentic, is the process. This includes thoughtfully considering the historic preservation standards, then formulating and laying out the options for discussion and debate. A compromise regarding preservation principles is not a cop-out. More often, it is the realistic and very acceptable outcome of a good-faith negotiation process. There may be no "right" answer for every case. But a good process will ensure an honorable solution. Perhaps the only thing in preservation that can truly be authentic is the process.

--S. Harris & Co. Comprehensive Project List--