"I'm not trying to slow it down," Elliott replied. "I just want to take a little bit of time to see what could happen to this site that hasn't already been talked about."
"We've been at it for years," Busch said. "How dare you? I feel like I'm kicking a puppy. I don't want to kill your spirit of getting involved, but when this comes to city council, I will kick you until you're bruised."
Anthony Camera
The Gates Rubber factory
Eugene Elliott, a University of Colorado student, wants to halt the demolition of remaining buildings at the Gates plant on South Broadway.
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Elliott smiled wanly. "I don't doubt it," he said.
"I would love to see you get involved with something you can win," Busch said, "because I will beat you up."
Elliott declined an offer to refund the $250 fee if he would withdraw his application. He disagreed with the assertion that his bid for preservation would delay the demolition process by a year or more, saying the issue could be resolved in a matter of weeks — leaving some in the room wondering if even he regarded his crusade as doomed. As things were winding down, he made a final stab at appeasement.
"I have a lot of thinking to do," he said. "If the neighborhood doesn't want this, that's not something that can be fought."
But the fight moved to the next level last week, when the landmark commission agreed to move Elliott's application forward. Denver's historic-designation process is more permissive than that of some cities, in that it allows people who aren't the property owners or even city residents to seek landmark designation for a property. Applications by non-owners rarely succeed — the rejuvenation of the Mayan Theater in the 1980s is often cited as the exception to the rule — but the process can end up chilling even well-intended redevelopment efforts.
At the same time, many neighborhood advocates would be loath to see new restrictions put on their own ability to intervene when potential landmark structures are threatened. Busch recalls an effort to seek protection for a historic home in her neighborhood that was short-circuited by the new property owner. "He demolished the place over Christmas, and then he went bankrupt," she recalls.
A few years ago, Denver City Council's Jeanne Robb worked with preservation advocates to add a "demolition review" component to the landmark-designation process. Demolition permits now have to be reviewed by the landmark commission staff to see if a building qualifies for protection — which is why Gates posted the notice on the fence, informing the public of an upcoming demolition, that came to Elliott's attention. But of the 2,010 demo permits reviewed since the requirement was put in place in 2006, only 1 percent (including Gates) have been deemed potentially historic, and only five applications for landmark designation have been filed on those properties.
"I think some of the panic over the [landmark] ordinance is overstated," says Robb. "But some of these applicants think they have a power they don't have. Posting misleads the public that something can be saved, and that's not always the case."
In light of the Gates flap and other recent landmark battles, Robb is looking for ways to streamline the city's landmark process — and, perhaps, prevent one person with $250 from managing to shanghai a billion-dollar infill project. Among her proposals: raising the application fee, which hasn't changed since the 1960s; requiring an application to be supported by at least three Denver residents; and addressing landmark designation at the time a developer seeks approval of a general development plan, to avoid unnecessary delay and expense.
Elliott doesn't see how a few more weeks of consideration on the fate of the Gates factory can do much harm.
"Having it redeveloped is the right thing to do," he says. "I'm not suggesting it should remain vacant, a paradise for people to break into. It is time to do something with it. My argument comes in what should be done with it."
He admits that the fallout from getting involved has consumed much more time than he thought it would. But he's in for the long haul.
"I just feel that opening the public dialogue is a good thing to do," he says, "given the importance of the property."