Yes, if you value New York’s wildly diverse architectural landscape, its layered history, and the stories embedded in specific places. In a city under constant pressure to build, expand, and reinvent, landmark preservation is one of the key tools that keeps certain pieces of the past firmly in view.

Recently, I attended a fundraiser for the LGBTQ Historic Sites Project, an organization co‑founded by a friend. Its mission is to broaden the public’s understanding of LGBTQ history by documenting and advocating for the places where that history was made. The team prepares nominations to the National Register of Historic Places and testifies in support of local landmark designation. Seeing those sites presented—many of them modest buildings with extraordinary stories, was deeply moving.

Stonewall, The Roxy, and What We Choose to Save

One of the most famous LGBTQ historic sites is the Stonewall Inn, the location of a pivotal turning point in the gay rights movement. The building itself is not a grand architectural jewel, but its cultural significance is profound. Stonewall achieved landmark status roughly a decade ago, and it stands as a centerpiece of the LGBTQ Historic Sites Project’s work.

Is Stonewall a “beautiful” building in the traditional sense? No. Have I spent a great deal of time there personally? Also no. But the story attached to it absolutely warrants preservation, and I would be genuinely saddened to see it demolished.

Contrast that with another place from my own past: The Roxy, a nightclub on West 18th Street where I spent many nights in my 20s and 30s—dancing, roller skating (on Tuesday nights), and making memories. The Roxy was eventually torn down to make way for Lantern House, an upscale condo development in West Chelsea.

In this case, was I upset to see The Roxy go? Surprisingly, no. Lantern House itself is architecturally interesting and contributes to an evolving, visually compelling neighborhood skyline. My fondness for the memories did not translate into a belief that the building itself needed to be frozen in time.

The difference between Stonewall and The Roxy, for me, illustrates the balance between development and preservation. I am firmly pro‑development—especially in a city grappling with a housing shortage—but I am also deeply compelled by preservation.

The Origins of Landmark Preservation in NYC

New York’s embrace of landmark preservation did not arise by accident. It grew out of a powerful backlash to a major loss: the demolition of Pennsylvania Station in the 1960s.

When the original, Beaux‑Arts Penn Station was razed, there was a widespread public outcry. New Yorkers began to recognize that if nothing changed, profit‑driven development could erase irreplaceable architecture and cultural memory. That outrage helped spark the modern preservation movement.

Key milestones:

• 1961 – Mayor Robert F. Wagner Jr. created the Committee for the Preservation of Structures of Historic and Esthetic Importance, an early step toward structured preservation efforts.
• 1965 – The city enacted the New York City Landmarks Law, giving the newly formed Landmarks Preservation Commission (LPC) the authority to designate and regulate not just individual buildings, but entire historic districts.
• Brooklyn Heights became the city’s first historic district in 1965.
• In the 1970s, landmarking expanded to include interior landmarks and scenic landmarks, such as parks and certain public spaces.

Today, the LPC oversees one of the largest municipal preservation portfolios in the country:

• As of 2024, there are more than 37,900 landmark properties across all five boroughs.
• These include roughly 1,460 individual landmarks, 121 interior landmarks, 12 scenic landmarks, and properties in about 150 historic districts and extensions.

The Landmarks Law was never meant to be about pure nostalgia. Its stated purposes include stabilizing and improving property values, fostering civic pride, safeguarding cultural memory, supporting tourism and the city’s economy, and enhancing the public welfare.

How Preservation Shapes Value and Neighborhoods

For many New Yorkers, landmarked buildings are more than “pretty bricks.” They are anchors—for memory, identity, and community.

From a market perspective, landmarking has complex effects:

• Studies have found that historic district designation can correlate with higher and more stable property values, especially outside Manhattan, and can offer some insulation from boom‑and‑bust cycles.
• Properties just outside district boundaries sometimes see value increases as well, reflecting the appeal of proximity without all of the restrictions.

Preservation has helped transform formerly gritty or overlooked areas into highly desirable neighborhoods, often without sacrificing their sense of authenticity. In some places, the mix of protected historic fabric and carefully integrated new development has created environments that feel layered and real rather than manufactured.

The Tension: Preservation vs Housing Supply

Preservation is not without cost—especially in a city with a chronic housing shortage.

Critics argue that:

• Strict landmark protections can limit new development, including multi‑family or mixed‑use projects that could add much‑needed housing.
• Height limits, demolition restrictions, and complex approval processes can make certain types of construction impractical or uneconomical in landmarked areas.

In this view, preservation, if applied too broadly or rigidly, risks freezing parts of the city in place at the expense of accommodating population growth and evolving needs.

Both positions have merit. The challenge is not to choose preservation or progress, but to reconcile them thoughtfully.

Finding the Balance: Adaptive Reuse and Evolving Preservation

The bottom line is that preservation and development are not inherently at odds.

• Adaptive reuse, converting older buildings for new purposes, is one way to bridge the gap. This includes office‑to‑residential conversions and other reconfigurations that retain a structure’s character while updating its function.
• Landmark policies can be refined to recognize that not all buildings, even within a historic district, have equal significance. Some warrant stringent protection; others could accommodate sensitive additions or changes.

In my own life, I embrace both sides:

• I live in a classic six in a historic prewar building because I value the layout, proportions, and character that simply do not exist in most new construction.
• I also recognize that my building does not have the amenities of many modern condos—no pool, no expansive gym, no pet spa, no golf simulator. There are always tradeoffs between old and new.

Preservation needs to evolve along with the city. It should protect what is truly irreplaceable, architecturally, culturally, and historically, while allowing New York to remain a living, changing place that can house the people who want to be here.

If we get that balance right, we can have both: a city that honors its past without becoming a museum, and a city that builds for the future without erasing what makes it uniquely itself.

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