By Ross Eric Gibson

James Redman married a San Francisco girl, Louise Warner, in 1880, then filled their new 1897 Watsonville home with all the latest advances and artistic features, providing the virtues of city life in a country farmhouse. Luxury farmhouses were not unheard of in Santa Cruz, given the F.W. Billing Mansion (now Pasatiempo site); and the Bernard Peyton Supervisor’s Mansion above the Santa Cruz Powderworks (now Paradise Park). Having worked on a cattle ranch and sheep ranch in the 1970s, my teenage vision of the California Ranch House was not the tract home, but the grand Victorian.

Cooper House

On Oct. 17, 1989, the Loma Prieta earthquake caused damage throughout Santa Cruz County, ranging from cosmetic, to severe. The Redman-Hirahara house, which was abandoned in 1986, was red tagged and awaited an unknown fate, as chaos reigned, with inconsistent reasons for saving or demolishing various landmarks.

The big story was the post-quake panic, where the Federal Emergency Management Agency offered to pay for demolitions only if done within the first month (later three months) after the quake. Why the government was not interested in repairing structures and getting businesses back on their feet, created a problem. That was particularly true of the Cooper House, long considered the most important landmark in the downtown, a Bohemian mecca of art, crafts, music, food and fellowship, with a sidewalk cafe featuring live music and colorful psychedelic dancers.

Watsonville demolished 15 downtown buildings, including William Weeks’ classic Odd Fellows Hall with its clock tower; plus a row of Main Street businesses, which included the old Ford’s Department Store. Santa Cruz had 76 businesses displaced from 33 downtown buildings on 11 blocks. City Manager Dick Wilson was in charge of determining which Santa Cruz buildings would come down, 20 quickly removed, and the decision to demolish the Cooper House was made within a week of the quake, drawing much consternation from the public.

As a private citizen, I told the City Council that while people might get over the shock of the earthquake, they would long resent the loss of the Cooper House. I was trying to get the Historic Preservation Commission to recognize they should be part of the leadership regarding decisions made for historic landmarks, as they represent a designated National Downtown Historic District. But the emergency ordinance rendered them powerless, and I learned later from Chair Sarah Ray and author/Commissioner Sara Boutelle that they had trouble swaying the other commissioners that preservation was important, even when it wasn’t convenient. Ray and Boutelle requested I apply to fill a vacancy on the Preservation Commission, and I was soon appointed by the City Council.

Wilson later said he regretted deliberating behind closed doors, with no recording or documentation of the meeting, because he thought it led to broad misunderstanding of the decision to tear down the Cooper House. For me, the missing element was the lack of a preservation professional in that meeting to identify if there was a preservation option. The council reported their meeting was entirely focused on the structural integrity of the Cooper House. Yet Michael Bates didn’t understand why he wasn’t invited on their structural investigation, being Cooper House owner Jay Paul’s architect/contractor, who had just completed the seismic upgrade to the Cooper House, that kept it from falling down. Bates had an intimate knowledge of the structure, unknown to any casual observer, no matter how expert they were in buildings other than the Cooper House.

Indeed, when the earthquake happened, Bates returned to the Cooper House immediately, entered it and got all the way up to the attic. He was proud that his upgrades worked. Three hours later, structural engineers entered the building and did damage assessments. Bates worried later that some of his construction debris might look like earthquake damage. A day or two later, structural engineer Michael Krakower was impressed, first that he could enter the building (unlike other damaged structures), and concluded the Cooper House was not a loss and could be retrofitted. Bates concurred, as did architect Mark Primack, chairman of the City Zoning Committee, who regretted how fast the process unfolded while attempting to save the building. (Santa Cruz Sentinel, Oct. 14, 2014).

Demolition of the Cooper House began 10 days after the quake, with the wrecking ball bouncing off Michael Bates’ seismic retrofit. The FEMA rush to demolish was seen in the red tagging of buildings without preservation oversight. The owners of two unreinforced masonry landmarks, Lulu Carpenters and the Leonard building, begged to have the red tags removed from their buildings. They wanted the opportunity to reinforce and restore their landmarks, and their red tag status was lifted. The Preservation Commission later gave them Certificates of Appreciation for their heroic steps at preservation.

After the earthquake, the vacant Redman-Hirahara house was the subject of vandalism and looting, until 1998, when the Redman Foundation was formed to restore the farmhouse and 14 acres as an agricultural interpretive center, winery, and bed and breakfast. An agreement with the owners in 2000 would allow the foundation to eventually buy the parcel and restore the house. It was placed on the National Register of Historic Places in 2004, and held in stabilized condition, before the Redman-Hirahara Foundation went bankrupt in 2009.

Going forward

In its current condition, the Redman-Hirahara house looks like the Old Granville house in the film “It’s A Wonderful Life.” George Bailey (Jimmy Stewart) could only see it as a disaster, but his girlfriend Mary (Donna Reed) envisions it as romantic and grand. When George gets married, the old wreck becomes their love nest and was restored to become their beloved family home.

When should preservationists throw in the towel? National Register protection provides scenarios for saving a landmark under any of four conditions. The Secretary of the Interior Standards for the Treatment of Historic Properties, has “Guidelines for Preserving, Rehabilitating, Restoring and Reconstructing Historic Buildings.” 1. “Preserve” means conserving a landmark’s form, integrity, and maximum materials, with maintenance and repairs. 2. “Rehabilitate” retains character-defining elements, with adaptive-reuse through alterations and additions. 3. “Restore” means return it to its period of significance, replace missing historic features, eliminate modernizations, while bringing utilities up to code. Finally, 4. “Reconstruct” is where a missing landmark, or a dilapidated landmark is reconstructed for interpretive purposes.

Yet the National Register of Historic Places considers an almost total rebuild project to be an adverse impact on the historic resource, if it can be avoided. Likewise, demolition by neglect is not a good reason to reward negligent property owners with a demolition permit, because a dilapidated or missing National Landmark may still retain an obligation for reconstruction. One example in Venice, Italy, is St. Mark’s Campanile, a replica of the original tower that collapsed in an earthquake in 1902 but retains its historic integrity. Even the White House had to be gutted in 1959 to stabilize the structure. Only the exterior walls are original, with the interior rebuilt in an earlier colonial style. It is never a good idea to approve an Historic Demolition Permit before approving the replacement project, to make sure the replacement mitigates the loss of a significant landmark.

Salvage companies have shown an interest in the Redman house, because what the Historic Resources Commission considers unsightly junk actually has intrinsic value for its 2,000-year-old virgin-heart redwood beams (no longer being harvested), plus rare woods, pillars, staircases, moldings, curved glass, stained glass and other character-defining features. Instead of dismantling it, the project would actually save money by restoring it in its already assembled form. If you doubt what restoration can do, consider Watsonville’s Castro Adobe, which was ready to collapse after the 1989 earthquake. It was stabilized, but had major structural issues until its final restoration as the Castro Adobe State Historic Park.

Here’s a preservation process to assess the Redman-Hirahara House:

1. CONSERVE: Use quick fixes to prevent further deterioration.

2. DOCUMENT: No demolition should be considered until the structure is fully documented, with photos and sketches, regarding finishes, wallpaper, blueprints, elevations, and details.

3. ESTIMATES: Instead of seeking estimates to delist and demolish this Nationally Significant landmark, seek estimates for restoration or reconstruction options.

4. VISION STATEMENT: Define a vision for the property’s ultimate use.

5. ORGANIZE: People are more likely to get on board if there is a vision pamphlet, and more likely to contribute if there’s a fundraising goal. Create a nonprofit status if needed.

6. SPONSORS & ALLIANCES: Gather sponsors large and small, especially from Santa Cruz and surrounding counties. Seek an alliance with Emma Prush Farm Park in San Jose, which was once an intended model for the Redman-Hirahara Gateway Farm Museum. Likewise, connect with State Parks, should that be a better source of restoration assistance.

I will always regret losing the Cooper House, which represented the best of downtown culture. It’s time for a county that loves its agricultural history to know what our options are for the Redman-Hirahara house. Instead of making like it was never born, let’s find those angels who see it as worth saving.