TIME: Almanac 1990/1990 Time Magazine Compact Almanac, The (1991)(Time).iso/time/052989/05298900.019

Text File | 1990-09-22 | 6.3 KB | 114 lines

SCIENCE, Page 64

To Build or Not to Build

That is the question that riles London's preservationists


    "Thus far into the bowels of the land we march'd on without
impediment."

    In Richard III, Shakespeare wrote of armies tramping across
medieval England, but the words could equally apply to the hordes
of developers who in recent times have swept over London. Their
relentless building has gone largely unopposed, even when it has
demolished rich portions of the city's heritage. But for the past
few weeks all of London has been in an uproar over the scheduled
destruction of two of the city's recently discovered archaeological
treasures: the ruins of a Roman bath complex that dates back 2,000
years and the underground remains of the Rose, the Elizabethan
theater where Shakespeare may have premiered Titus Andronicus and
Henry VI and even trod the stage.

    Protesters have besieged the British government with pleas to
save the sites. They have written letters, staged marches and held
all-night vigils. Among the petitioners: Laurence Olivier, Dame
Peggy Ashcroft, Dustin Hoffman and Princes Charles and Edward.
Declared Tony Banks, a Labor Member of Parliament: "The destruction
of these sites would represent the archaeological equivalent of
destroying the rain forests. Once they are gone, they can never be
reinstated." Last week both landmarks received last-minute
reprieves. Developers of the Roman site announced that they will
revise their plans and save the remains. And the government
declared a one-month stay of execution for the Rose to allow
developers and officials time to explore ways to preserve the
theater.

    To preservationists, the furor points up the need to strengthen
the laws protecting archaeological finds. Since 1973, London's
monuments have been safeguarded largely through officially
sanctioned voluntary pacts between developers and archaeologists.
The agreements basically give scientific teams time to investigate
all sites exposed by the digging of construction crews. The costs
are borne by the developers, who have been quick to see the public
relations advantage. Last year they provided $9 million for
explorations at 162 sites in the London area. But the effort
amounts mostly to a delay in construction. After archaeologists
record their findings and salvage some artifacts, most sites are
leveled. More than 80% of the city's archaeological heritage,
including medieval marketplaces and remains of the Roman city known
as Londinium, have already been lost to modern office buildings and
underground garages.

    Londoners have feared that the same fate would befall the two
newest finds. The remains of the Rose were unexpectedly discovered
last February after an office building was demolished on the south
bank of the Thames in preparation for the erection of a new
nine-story complex. The archaeological team sent to the site knew
the area had been the Elizabethan theater district, but no one
expected to find vestiges of the Rose, which was built in 1587. The
team stumbled onto chalk foundations, sloped mortar flooring and,
most astonishingly, the base of the stage 6 ft. below the ground.
From the debris, scientists have determined that the Rose was a
small polygon-shaped theater, just 43 ft. in diameter, with plaster
walls and a thatched roof. Viewers sat in tiered galleries or stood
in a pit in front of the stage. Among the rubble was a layer of
hazelnut shells, possibly the medieval audience's version of
popcorn.

    The discovery of well-preserved Roman ruins just across the
Thames at Huggin Hill was equally serendipitous. Excavations in
1964 had revealed extensive baths on the enormous site, which
measures 20,000 sq. ft. Experts are unsure whether the remains are
part of the palace of Julius Agricola, the Governor of Britain in
the latter half of the first century, or public baths built for the
citizenry.

    The Huggin Hill Baths were designated a protected
archaeological site by the government years ago. But in 1988 the
Department of the Environment granted a development company
permission to build a seven-story office complex on the west end
of the ruins. The government believed the site had already been
irretrievably damaged by construction in the 1960s. But last
January the archaeological team discovered a large room with
central heating, vaulted semicircular recesses and a mosaic floor.

    Few doubt the archaeological value of either the Rose or the
Roman baths. But the stumbling block in preservation efforts is
money. In granting a temporary reprieve to the Rose, the government
had to pledge as much as $1.65 million to the building's developers
to cover the costs of delays in construction. And officials admit
that revoking permission to build at Huggin Hill could run the
government's liability as high as $40 million.

    The cheapest answer to protecting the sites is to rebury the
remains and proceed with construction; future generations could
re-excavate the ruins when the new buildings are knocked down. That
is exactly what developers have decided to do at Huggin Hill.
Stacks of tiles from the 2,000-year-old central-heating system will
be covered with foam and wood before the whole site is filled in
with sand; a planned two-story basement will be built at another
location so that only a small section of a Roman retaining wall
will need to be destroyed. Developers of the Rose site have also
proposed re-covering the remains. But critics say the theater
fragments are too fragile for such treatment. Moreover,
construction plans still call for 20 concrete piles, some of which
would be driven through what is left of the theater.

    Worst of all, both historical sites would stay out of public
view. One solution still being considered for the Rose is to
incorporate the remains into the new building. London has used that
remedy successfully several times. For example, a 12-ft.-high
portion of the Roman wall that once encircled Londinium forms part
of the basement wall of a new office building; pedestrians peek in
through sidewalk windows. Allowing the Rose, the only Elizabethan
theater ever discovered, to disappear once again sounds like the
stuff of a Shakespearean tragedy. "Replicas of Elizabethan theaters
are being built everywhere," observes actor Ian McKellen, "but this
is the real thing, and you don't throw away the real thing."