Goojie? Gootie? Google? Googie.

Amid the progress Montgomery County has made in recent years to orient policy around smart growth, more housing, better transit and racial equity sits the glaring anomaly of an unreformed historic preservation process, which is notorious nationwide as a hurdle for the building that would ease the housing crisis. But the recent dustup over the proposed designation of a former dry-cleaning building in Silver Spring as historic highlighted the need for change here at home.

Weller’s Dry Cleaner is a building on Fenton Street in downtown Silver Spring constructed in 1961. The property used to have big red-and-white enameled steel panels (later painted beige). It was an architectural technique intended to catch the eye of drivers from an era when too much building oriented itself around cars.

This building is also an example of Googie architecture, a species of mid-century modern whose label is obscure enough to draw a lot of blank stares. In a recent hearing, Montgomery County Planning Board members referred to “Gootie” and “Goojie” during the hearing. And the name sometimes auto-corrects to a certain Internet search engine.

In 2021, the Weller family sold the building to Bekelech Delelegne, an Ethiopian immigrant whose husband had worked for decades to purchase two neighboring parcels with an eye toward developing all three. Her husband passed away during the pandemic, and their son, Dagmawi Lakew, manages the properties.

Into this situation swooped the Historic Preservation Commission, which kickstarted the process for designating the property as historic as the property changed hands. If the Planning Board and County went along, it would be protected from demolition, and any changes would have required a permit from HPC. The family did not know their property was up for designation; when they later asked HPC to delay designation, the commission did so anyway at a September 21 hearing.

Designation as historic would have driven Delelegne’s family under water on this investment, Lakew explained at the HPC meeting. The property requires extensive environmental remediation due to chemical usage, a common problem with old dry cleaners. The family was aware of this issue and purchased it at a price consistent with its status as a non-historic property. Remediation as a historic site could run into the millions of dollars.

Last month, the Planning Board heard arguments from historic preservation advocates, as well as the property owners, before rejecting HPC’s bid for historic preservation. Most preservationists there were white. Lakew noted the sudden interest in historic designation once a family “with a funny name” purchased the property.

Dan Reed, Greater Greater Washington’s regional policy director and a neighbor a few blocks away, provided historical context. Silver Spring, he noted, was segregated when the building went up. “It is difficult not to hear some of the conversations my neighbors have had about this building and wonder if,” Reed said, “they want to keep people out, and preserve a place that many of us do not remember and at one time, due to segregation, could not even patronize.”

The Planning Board rejected the request from HPC. Still, the process exposed a major problem with how the county handles historic designation, and we may have ended up with the right outcome despite the law.

Balancing historic preservation with other goals

County policies – notably Thrive 2050, a plan for how the entire county should grow in the future – emphasize dense, mixed-use development at this location. The Silver Spring Downtown and Adjacent Communities Plan specifically recommends a mid-rise building with homes or commercial activities there, which then taper off into neighborhoods of single-family homes. Both documents, as well as overarching county policy, include goals built around racial equity.

Chapter 24A of the County Code outlines how the historic designation process protects properties from demolition. In the narrowest legal terms, the Planning Board had the authority to decide if the property met the criteria for designation. Board members debated whether they had a legal obligation to approve the designation regardless of other considerations about development policy, housing needs or racial equity, which would normally lie with the County Council. “The Council put us in a box,” said then-chair Jeff Zyontz. “They are in a bigger box.”

Member Cherri Branson refused to let go of the big picture, though. “I have never heard of anything more ridiculous in my life – that we would tell these people that your American dream will be put on hold because of somebody’s 1950s memory,” Branson said. “So let me be 100 percent clear: no way, no how. I am not voting to preserve this.”

Member Roberto Pinero choked up at the thought of going through with the designation. “When I weigh people against bricks and mortar, historical significance, and I hear the story of this immigrant family trying to, you know…That’s how I feel.”

Both Branson and Pinero later clarified they opposed designation because other Googie buildings weren’t protected, and a building in this style had been torn down in Kensington. Board member Amy Presley, noting she was moved by concerns people raised about racial equity, objected on the narrow grounds that the beige paint covering the Googie-style panels made a historic designation impossible. On a 3-2 vote, the board sent the Council a negative recommendation.

So, the equity and justice considerations manifestly obvious to all, priorities enshrined in any number of County laws and pronouncements…officially played no role whatsoever in the outcome.

How to do historic preservation differently

While the Planning Board has fallen under the Council’s and the public’s eye over the past year, the Historic Preservation Commission gets very little scrutiny. Historic designations are not frequent. But HPC is constantly considering requests for historic area work permits, which any property owner needs to change or build in a historic district. More oversight over what they do is essential.

First, turn the HPC into a body whose members are appointed by the County Council, as is the case with the Planning Board; currently, the county executive nominates them, and Council approves. HPC staff is part of the Planning Board staff, so this change would harmonize the two bodies. That change would also recognize the Council’s leadership of late in setting development parameters.

Second, change Chapter 24A by specifying that the Planning Board has the authority to weigh any historic designation against the other factors that the county has adopted as policy. In the current situation, that would mean the need for denser development, more housing, transit, and racial equity.

Third, require a supermajority vote for a historic designation by the Planning Board. There is a tendency in preservation debates for older residents, who will be around to see historic buildings less than their younger neighbors, to be the loudest voice in the room. It’s only human; a 75-year-old today would have vivid memories of mid-century modern styles. And retirees, with children long moved out, usually have more time to dedicate to these debates than young families. A supermajoritarian process would help guard against an older generation controlling a process whose impact falls mainly on younger ones.

Fourth, applicants should be allowed to appeal denied work permits. The Planning Board or the Board of Appeals could consider whether HPC went too far in denying a permit or imposing excessive conditions on it.

Finally, close the window for historic designations after a certain period, but allow the Council alone to reopen it. Weller’s Dry Cleaners was eligible for about 20 years, but only went to HPC after the family purchased it.

Preservation that doesn’t harm people

In the September HPC hearing, Delelegne said, in a rather anguished voice that, “to us, this is all … foreign.” It was a poignant remark for someone originally from Ethiopia, a country with roots stretching back thousands of years.

The Historic Preservation Commission and local activists, whose ancestors happened to arrive in the United States a bit earlier than her family did, mounted a threat to decades of hard work that epitomized the immigrant story we Americans like to celebrate. And it all happened in the name of a building whose age is less than the average person’s life span.

Editor’s note: This piece has been updated to remove a sentence saying that Montgomery County should let people appeal Historic Preservation Commission decisions, as this option is already available. GGWash takes reporting accuracy seriously and sincerely regrets the error.