Aspen's new emergency historic preservation ordinance does not go far enough in saving the city's historic character for the greater good of the community.

The ordinance, which the Aspen City Council passed 4−1 last week with Dwayne Romero casting the dissenting vote, mandates that all houses (aka "hard−earned homes" to many people) more than 30 years old must undergo a review for potential historic designation before the owner can tear it down or do any significant exterior remodel.

Somehow or other, the City Council left out perhaps an important element of these houses in question −− the interior. What about the interiors of these potentially "historic" homes, some of which look like tract houses in Aurora?

Somewhere in Aspen, there may still be a den completely covered in orange shag carpet, circa 1970. Shag carpet was popular across the United States from the late 1960s and into the 1970s for reasons that trained psychologists still don't understand, so carpet like that must be located, inventoried, recorded and preserved at all costs. (Plus the fact that perfectly useable drugs may still be found in some of those stringy carpets.) What about rabbit−ear antennas on TV sets? That's a historic artifact that must be saved for the "community." These antennas demonstrate the difficulties Aspen residents faced in connecting to events in the outside world before the advent of cable TV.

Let's not forget those macrame plant holders that swung from ceilings and attracted ferns of all varieties plus spider plants, and sometimes served as ashtrays for tall drunks during wild parties. Think of the careful craftsmanship that in some cases took minutes to learn that went into creating those timeless pieces of 1970s Americana. Aspen cannot afford to let that kind of heritage slip away or be thrown into the Pitkin County dump.

Although the City Council addressed many issues during its July 10 discussion on the historic preservation ordinance, there's one thing I still don't get. Who is the "community" that the preservation activists talk about? The community whose wishes and whims trump the property rights of homeowners who might want to replace their cramped, energy−inefficient houses with something more earth−friendly, comfortable and spacious?

Who is this "community"? Is it the trust−fund communists who never had to work for a living and who think the government's primary duty is to keep them happy? Is it the people who think Aspen should remain exactly as it was the day they moved to town? Is it the party crowd who moves to town for a year or two before checking into a rehab clinic somewhere? Is the community the people who spend half their time in Aspen and the other half in Maui, and want Aspen to look exactly the same each year when they return? Who is the "community" that everyone talks about? It seems like in most cases, when someone stands up in a meetingand refers to the "community," what they are really saying is "people like me."

In any case, no matter how one defines the "community," here's one thing the community isn't. The community isn't going around paying the property taxes on the homes affected by this historic preservation ordinance. The community doesn't come over every week and mow the lawns at those houses. The community doesn't save up for a new roof on those houses when they need replacing and the community doesn't come over to help paint the house every few years.

Hmmmm, this makes me wonder. If the community isn't doing anything for these affected homeowners, why are these homeowners being forced to do something for the community?

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On a related note, if you want to see some historic images of Aspen, check out page 170 in the current Aspen Peak magazine (available for free at the Rubey Park bus station if you're shy about slinking into fancy hotel lobbies to grab a copy or feel weird asking how much they cost at various stores around town).

The six−page spread, with text by Mirte Berko Mallory, features 13 photos by Ferenc Berko from the late 1940s to the early 1950s plus one from 1964. One image is familiar, and shows the Red Onion with a dirt road running in front and vacant lots all around. A full−page photo shows a group of picnickers at the Maroon Bells, with several cars parked at the lake's edge.

The captions are written by Joy Caudill (co−founder of the Wilderness Workshop), Alan Fletcher (president and CEO of the Aspen Music Festival), Merrill Ford (former director of the International Design Conference), Walter Isaacson (president and CEO of the Aspen Institute), Tage Pederson (physical trainer at the Aspen Institute Health Center), Dick Butera (former owner of the Hotel Jerome), Jill St. John (actress), and Paula Zurcher (daughter of Walter and Elizabeth Paepcke).

In her caption, Zurcher writes about the abandoned houses that could be bought for back taxes "some with clothes still hanging in the closets." She also explains that neighbors "indeed leaned over fences" to admire each other's sweet peas.

If you're interested in Aspen's post−World War II history, the Berko photos and captions are well worth looking at and saving.