It was a historic day in the Northville council chamber–in the sense that history was the number one topic.
“It’s kind of prestigious to be on this,” prefaced a visiting architectural historian, flipping through a slide show about Northville’s spot on the National Register of Historic Places.
She flashed a boot-shaped map onscreen. “This is what the Historic District looks like when we started. The goal is to have the local and National Register districts match.”
Ah, who doesn’t love an audit! In this case, instead of sifting through hundreds of pages of documents, she sifted through hundreds of…buildings?
“We photographed all of the buildings, over 400. We developed historic significance–all of the things that make Northville Northville.”
The historian cautioned that not all Northville memorabilia made the cut. “It has to be cultural,” she warned. “The hand of man has to be felt on it. That’s why rivers aren’t in a district, but a bridge would be.”
She gestured to a blank space in the center of the map. “This the ball field. It doesn’t have any history from over 50 years ago. It’s just a piece of ground, so that can’t be cultural.”
“What about the six mills that were there?” interrupted Mayor Pro Tem Nancy Darga.
“Are they there now?” the historian shot back.
“Their footings are,” retorted Darga.
“Well then,” the historian replied slowly, “that would be archeology. That’s not something that’s covered.
The mayor pro tem was horrified.
“Northville started on that ball diamond,” she insisted. “It’s because there was a mill there. We now just took the beginning of Northville out of the Historic District!”
The historian refused to back down. “Do you want to have archeology? I don’t think you can have archeology just for one plot. It’s gonna be the whole district.”
The consequence of that? “Anybody who wants to put in a new garden may have to consider” what lies below.
No one was eager to turn Northville into an excavation site for stegosaurus bones, so the baseball diamond issue was closed.
“Maybe I’m missing something here,” Darga said after a pause, “but we established a local Historic District in 1972. But now we’re trying to establish a NATIONAL–”
“You already have a national district,” interjected the historian. “We’re trying to make sure the boundary represents what’s here today. You don’t want to lose your district. And the Park Service will do that. They will de-list districts.”
This historic preservation business is ruthless. I imagine archeology is a cakewalk in comparison.
“I got a little lost,” Mayor Ken Roth admitted as the lights turned on and the projector turned off. “Our Historic District is listed…?”
“It’s both. It’s listed on the National Register of Historic Places and it’s a local Historic District,” the historian patiently reiterated.
“The person who is the head of the National Register list is called the ‘keeper,'” she said.
“Seriously? The keeper?” Mayor Roth exclaimed. “That’s a real title?!”
“Yes! It’s much sought after,” she assured him.
The council thanked the historian and switched to their regular business. The mayor requested a motion to approve the agenda. But suddenly, once he got it–
“All right, we will move on,” the mayor charged ahead before others on the dais stirred to halt him. He had forgotten to take a vote on the motion.
“I’m sorry. That was tricky,” he apologized, grinning. “We need the keeper!”