The path to Mrs. Slater’s living room

The fireworks have started over my recent NEXTpittsburgh op-ed about the Pittsburgh History and Landmarks Foundation’s National Register of Historic Places nomination for a house historic preservationists have dubbed the “National Negro Opera Company House.”

One local historic preservation group complained that my op-ed didn’t give them enough credit. Another hurled threats.

While the preservationists have been circling their wagons and firing their defensive shotguns, none of them has bothered to ask me a few basic questions. One no-brainer is, “What other factual errors in the NRHP nomination are there besides the ones laid out in my article?” I first suggested to PHLF that there were issues with the NRHP nomination as early as the first week in January. Another is, “Why does it matter?”

PHLF is doubling down on its position that the NRHP nomination was defensible and accurate work. A PHLF spokesperson told me in the interview I did with him for the article, “We absolutely stand by it.”

PHLF reiterated its stance in communications with the Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission, the state agency that reviews National Register nominations before forwarding them to the National Park Service for a final determination and listing. “We stand behind [the PHLF consultant’s] work 100%,” wrote PHLF’s education coordinator in a February email to the state.

And yet, no one among the preservation crowd is curious about what led me to read the NRHP nomination and to the Hill District living room where I interviewed the 95-year-old woman quoted in my lede: Mrs. Dolores Slater. Nor are they interested in why I made such a fuss about the lack of oral history in the NRHP nomination. It’s not like PHLF didn’t have the money to do oral history — the National Park Service awarded the organization $41,378 to do oral history and the NRHP nomination.

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“She died in that house”

“She died in that house,” Dolores Slater told me in a January 2023 interview. I had asked her about Ada B. Harris, beloved Pittsburgh numbers banker William “Woogie” Harris’s widow, and the house at 7101 Apple St. that historic preservationists have dubbed the “National Negro Opera Company House.” 

There’s no doubt that the Apple Street house is one of Pittsburgh’s most important Black history landmarks. What is in question, however, is how (and by whom) that story is being told.

Where Ada Harris died is important for lots of reasons. In a new NEXTpittsburgh op-ed, I laid out some of those reasons. I also illustrate some significant issues with the high profile National Register of Historic Places nomination where a consultant to the Pittsburgh History and Landmarks Foundation wrote that Ada Harris had moved out of the home five years before her death.

In my op-ed, I offered some primary documentary sources where PHLF’s consultant might have gotten more accurate information about Ada Harris, etc. Of course, the PHLF consultant who researched and wrote the nomination didn’t have to go to all the trouble tracking down legal records, etc. to learn where Ada Harris died. She could have read Ada Harris’s front-page obituary published Nov. 18, 1972, in the New Pittsburgh Courier: “Mrs. Harris, whose husband amassed great wealth as a business man in the Hill District … died at their home, 7101 Apple St.”

The New Pittsburgh Courier, Nov. 18, 1972.

Of course, my op-ed is about much more than bad facts and omissions. It’s also about exclusion and an obsolete approach to historic preservation (and public history). As one of my collaborators told me, “That’s part of my family history … It affects people I know.” Perhaps that’s something that preservationists should keep in mind when writing about real people.

©2023 D.S. Rotenstein