Ronald Reagan was still in the first term of his presidency when Oak Park started discussing an ordinance to preserve its stock of architecturally valuable buildings. That was in 1984, and in the ensuing seven years little progress has been made. An ordinance has been proposed, but it probably won’t pass anytime soon. Oak Park’s seven-person board of trustees is paralyzed, afraid of upsetting either side of what has become a rancorous debate. This legislative standstill leaves about 75 architectural jewels (including 25 Frank Lloyd Wright buildings) vulnerable to the whims of whoever happens to own them.
At the center of the controversy is the 11-member Historic Preservation Commission, one of several trustee-appointed voluntary boards in Oak Park. As the commission sees it, Oak Park derives its strength from the diversity of its architecture, particularly its Prairie School houses–Oak Park has more Wright-designed structures than any other community in the world.
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Over the years the village has set aside two historic districts (the Frank Lloyd Wright Historic District and the Ridgeland Historic District) encompassing roughly 3,100 buildings. No new rules came with these designations; property owners only have to follow the ordinary village building code. That means they could slap a porch on a priceless Wright structure or remove all of its windows (worth hundreds of thousands of dollars) or side it with asphalt shingling (as one man did).
Their first draft was completed by December 1989. It required binding review by the commission for exterior work done on any home in either historic district. Any resident who disobeyed the commission’s decision (which was subject to appeal to the board of trustees) could be fined. The reaction was a public outcry.
Gress disagrees, arguing that while reasonable people can agree that dog poop should be scooped, there can be no fair appraisal of aesthetic value. “The commission assumes that every house in the historic districts is an architectural jewel, and that’s not so,” he says. “My house is affordable and nice to live in, but it’s not significant. Some of these so-called invaluable houses range from boring to ugly–they deserve to be torn down. I know of a Wright-designed building that is a three-story monstrosity. It looks like a Caribbean apartment building. The commission talks about responsible legislation, but they’re really just inflicting the police power of the state on other people’s lives.”
Klinkow’s idea was to have her husband, Peter, apply for a permit to cover the stucco exterior of their Wright house with aluminum siding. “We never intended to side our house,” she says. “We only wanted to make a point about the vulnerability of these buildings. To our amazement, the village issued us a permit without asking any questions.”
The other trustees had no response. Schultz called the Klinkows traitors for making Oak Park and the trustees “look like fools.” Jones said the proposed ordinance gave the commission members too much authority. Cole said it was difficult to understand. And village president John Philbin–noting that four of the seven trustees opposed it–suggested postponing a vote for at least another month. “I don’t want to have a John Wayne showdown on this and have it come out four to three,” he said. “Especially if the four are not on my side.”
