April 6, 2004     Los Gatos, California Since 1881
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Pardon me, Mr. Mayor. I remember it differently
By Joel Gambord
gambordI've been gone from Monte Sereno for more than five years but I still read your newspaper every week, usually online. Recently, I was surprised to find my name appear in an article about the Monte Sereno City Council revisiting its historic preservation policy.

It looks to me like Mayor Curtis Wright needs to pay more attention to his understanding of history than he does. If he were to review the council minutes when the law was changed to provide for owner consent before a property could be placed on the inventory of historic homes, he would find that not only I supported that action; the council vote in favor was 4-1.

Indeed, Mr. Wright would find the fingerprints of the venerable mayor Jack Lucas, along with those of council members Suzanne Jackson, Gordon Knight and myself. The only dissenter was Dorothea Bamford. Somehow, I think that's called democracy in action—the American way.

The revision to the general plan that we passed put some common sense into the process. Anyone familiar with real estate knows that placing a home on a historic registry puts a cloud on the title and—never mind the happy talk of the preservationists, tax breaks and all that nonsense—strict limitations are placed on the use of an owners' property. In legal jargon, it's an insidious form of "taking without just compensation" for the public's benefit. This inclusion of a home on the list must be disclosed to any future buyer. Think this doesn't affect its value? Think again.

In our particular case, as owners of the John Steinbeck House, we were prevented from even changing the color of the exterior or putting up new light fixtures. And worst of all we were required to install "doors to nowhere" along with phony knobs and hinges. Our home became Monte Sereno's answer to San Jose's Winchester Mystery House. It was an idea run amuck—hypocrisy of historic proportions.

Most interesting to me about the article was Susan Anawalt and her husband's opposition to the "ordinance." This was the very lady who at one time chaired some of the Monte Sereno Historical Preservation Committee's meetings and took great delight in making certain we towed the committee's line on requirements concerning our home. And when a new council voted to insert the "owner consent" requirement, all the members of the committee, save one, resigned in protest.

From the April 2, 1997, issue of the Los Gatos Weekly-Times, "Chairman John Wimer told the Times he's definitely finished with the committee. Members Susan Anawalt and Gerry Peters said they want to make sure they understand the council's decision, but if they heard what they think they heard—that the homeowner will have the final word on preservation—they'll quit, too."

I know for a fact the Anawalts take great care of and pride in their "historic" looking Queen Anne cottage and maintain it that way, as we did, because they just love the property. But when the government shows up at the front door with "I'm here to help you," the Anawalts' response was essentially: "Right! Take a hike, please—and on your way out don't tell us what to do with our property or how to take care of it."

Isn't it interesting? What goes around comes around.

I think I have an answer for this conundrum. I would propose that every elected or appointed official who proposes, or votes in favor of, a historic preservation ordinance that does not contain an owner consent provision should automatically be required to place his or her home on the registry. You can bet they'll say, "But my home isn't historic."

Oh, Mr. Mayor, just hang around for a bit—I'm sure we'll find something hysterical about your house. And surely, if we just simply wait a while, it will become historical as soon as it reaches 50 years old. How many of these elected and appointed so-called tree hugging preservation lovers do you think would belly up to this bar? They'd be scarce as hens' teeth.

Just common sense.

Joel Gambord resides in Pebble Beach.

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