Don’t Like Your Neighbors’ House? Sue Them.
JULY 12, 2014
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RALEIGH, N.C. — IN September, Louis Cherry, an architect here, received a building permit and the necessary approvals to begin constructing a house for himself and his wife, Marsha Gordon, on an empty lot in Oakwood, a historic district in Raleigh. The neighborhood features a variety of architectural styles, from postwar bungalows to Greek Revivals, shotguns to Queen Annes. Construction began in October and the home, modern but modestly so, is nearly complete.
But it is also at risk of demolition. Not because of a tornado or termites or some other natural disaster, but because one of his neighbors doesn’t want it there.
Through a series of protracted appeals, the neighbor has been successful in getting the city to reverse its approval of Mr. Cherry’s permit. The house passed its building inspections and is 85 percent complete, yet sits empty, its future dependent on who finally wins a legal battle that never should have been allowed to happen.
Gail Wiesner, who lives across the street from Mr. Cherry — not incidentally, in a house built in 2008 — doesn’t like it in her neighborhood. In her appeal, she complained not only that the house was too modern for the area’s historical character, but also that the impact of its completion posed a threat to the community. Testifying to the Raleigh City Council, Ms. Wiesner argued that past attempts to engage in similar stylistic treachery had been made by architects who had been “churned out from a very modernist school,” and like to “show off their abilities.”
For the most part, these rebels have been prevented from building homes like this one, she continued in her public comments, but thanks only to “scrupulous, agonizing” processes.
Over a period of about four months Ms. Wiesner filed a series of appeals to the Board of Adjustment to reverse the ruling with the intent of halting construction.
A small group of Oakwood neighbors, who call themselves the Oak City Preservation Alliance, rallied to the cause. The actions of Ms. Wiesner and her allies have created “such a weird hysteria in the neighborhood,” Mr. Cherry told me. “Words like ‘holocaust’ have been used in reference to the idea that our house could inspire a rash of tear-downs which could then be replaced with modern homes. I designed my house specifically within the design guidelines of this historic district and to be compatible, a good neighbor. But the term ‘modernism’ just clicks a switch in people’s brain and they can’t see the house for what it is.”
But should a difference in taste lead to a court date?
Some of the staunchest supporters of the Cherry-Gordon house are, says Mr. Cherry, “people who believe in property rights and are sort of libertarian.” However, those live-and-let-live types feel as if they’re in a minority. Increasingly, it seems, building a house that doesn’t fit in with your neighbor’s vision of home has become grounds for legal action, often in places emblematic of the American dream, like historic districts and gated communities.
Over a decade ago, I traveled to Louisville, Ky., to write a story about a young couple building their dream home who were sued by neighbors who claimed that the house violated neighborhood covenants, codes and restrictions (C.C.&R.s) that limited the use of certain building materials. The house was clad in polycarbonate and corrugated metal, but atypical as that may have been, several houses in the subdivision used aluminum and vinyl siding, materials also not stipulated in the C.C.&R.s. The neighbors claimed that the home had caused them everything from emotional distress to failing health to the loss of a job promotion. Ultimately, the neighbors lost their case and the couple lost thousands of dollars in legal fees. In the end, their house got to stay; the judge ordered them to cut the glare, so they planted a tree in front.
In a historic district like Oakwood, the preservation guidelines discourage attempts to build new Victorians and instead support contemporary design. This reflects the prevailing view of historic preservationists who frown on the practice of designing new buildings to look as if they’re old. And indeed, Ms. Wiesner’s arduous efforts to save Oakwood from the Cherry-Gordon house aren’t garnering the support of those whom she claims to speak for — the historic preservationists.
In fact, Myrick Howard, who has been head of Preservation North Carolina, a nonprofit group dedicated to protecting historic homes and districts in the state, for 35 years, wrote a letter in support of the Cherry-Gordon project, arguing that the home “is in line with a half-century of preservation philosophy and practice, contrary to the assertion of their opponents.” Further, Mr. Howard told me recently, the case “is giving preservation a black eye. Because it sounds like preservationists are against this house. It has put the historic development commission on the defensive.”
Ms. Wiesner, who works in real estate, has also argued that having a modern house on the block will adversely affect the resale value of her own home. Here, too, Mr. Howard begs to differ: “The Cherry house doesn’t bring her property value down; in fact, it probably has a more positive affect on the neighborhood than Wiesner’s. Her house is two-thirds bungalow and one-third Victorian cottage. This is like putting strawberries and broccoli in the blender together. I love strawberries and I love broccoli, but not together.”
For Mr. Cherry and Ms. Gordon, the outcome remains to be seen. The North Carolina Modernist Houses organization helped the couple by starting a legal-defense fund. Their lawyer is preparing a brief for a late August court date in front of a Superior Court judge, who will decide if the Board of Adjustment’s decision should be affirmed, reversed or remanded.
“We do feel like we’re being held hostage by her actions against us,” says Mr. Cherry, who had expected to move into the house back in May.
