Not long ago, I visited my daughter in Dallas and stayed in a neighborhood called Lakewood. It’s a place where tree-lined streets meet urban convenience, a neighborhood with deep roots and a long memory. Or at least – it used to be.
As I walked block after block, I found myself stunned by the transformation. Entire streets of mid-century brick ranchers and original bungalows have been replaced with towering new builds. In some ways, it reminded me of Hershey. Except in Dallas, the pace of change seems faster, more relentless. Another house gone. Another blank slate.
And maybe that’s OK for Dallas, if that’s what the city wants. But here in Central Pennsylvania, we have to ask: Is that what we want?
In Charleston, S.C., the answer has been a clear and resounding no. Charleston enacted one of the first and strongest historic preservation ordinances in the country back in 1931. Their community chose to protect the fabric of the city, knowing that once history is gone, you can’t get it back.
Here in the Harrisburg-Hershey corridor, we’re at a crossroads.
When I moved to Hershey 15 years ago, I remember a contractor telling me that some of the finest remodels on the East Coast happen right here in Central Pa. At the time, preserving a home’s integrity was the norm. People saw value in restoring what was already there – updating kitchens and baths while leaving porches, brickwork and original character intact. Today, that mindset feels like it’s fading.
More often, I see buyers purchase for the lot, not the house. The teardown cost gets absorbed as just another line item on the construction budget. The history of the home, the life lived within its walls, is much harder to quantify.
Sometimes I walk the streets of Hershey late at night when the town is still. I imagine the generations who came before, tending gardens, waving to neighbors, repairing bikes in the driveway. These homes hold stories. They carry a soul.
I recently witnessed a demolition that hit close to home – literally. My neighbor passed away, and his house was sold to a couple who assured everyone on the block they planned to remodel, not demolish. Then one morning, without notice, a wrecking crew arrived.
The sound of machinery roared through the neighborhood. Pets trembled. Windows shook. By the end of the day, the house sat half-demolished like a wounded relic, the east side still clinging to the earth while the south side lay crushed.
There’s a right way and a wrong way to approach change. If a teardown is truly necessary, let it be done with care, respect and communication. After all, the house might be yours now, but the neighborhood belongs to everyone.
That said, I’m not anti-new construction. There’s a time and place for it. I recently helped a large family find a home in downtown Hershey. They wanted to live near schools, the library and the ball fields – a walkable lifestyle. The home they purchased was a new build, and I’m grateful it exists. It allows them to stay close to what matters most.
Here’s the question: Are we headed for a Dallas-style teardown culture, or are we leaning into Charleston’s preservation playbook? Or is there a middle path unique to Central Pa.?
I’d love to hear where you stand.
Drop me a note at eileenvoyles@gmail.com.