In my day job, I'm a Realtor. This summer I sold two buildings on my courthouse square for a brilliant man named Mike Kraft. I wanted to say something about Mike in my blog, and finally decided to simply post the letter I wrote to him after we closed the sale.
Mike,
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The Wild Building: 20 N. 9th St. in
Noblesville, Indiana, one of Mike's restorations. |
I want to thank you for allowing me to take you through the
process of handing your Noblesville properties to a new owner. The trust you
and Betsy put in me was humbling and inspiring. Far too often I work with
people for whom the homes and historic buildings are simply houses and
structures. You and I both know your
buildings, and what you did with them have meant much more to Noblesville.
I admire you more than I can say. You were a pioneer on the
courthouse square in Noblesville with those two buildings at the very time I
was struggling to do the same thing in the surrounding residential
neighborhoods, in my own meager way.
In the 1980s most of the locals had given up on the courthouse
square. When some business leaders were urging the county commissioners to
tear down the courthouse to make way for more parking and move county offices to
the highway, you bought and restored those two buildings and nurtured first
class tenants. You inspired others. The money and effort you expended gave
others permission – made them feel it was reasonable to do the same with their
buildings. You inspired a mayor – Mary Sue Rowland, to promote downtown and gave
her a solid example to point to as a model for downtown’s future. And when her
Main Street downtown redevelopment program looked for it’s first office, you
gave them one for $1 a month.
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| The home of Alexander's Ice Cream, Mike's other stunning project at 876 Logan St., Noblesville IN. |
A few days ago my wife and I walked downtown and ate at
Matteo’s, another tenant you nurtured in another building you once owned, and
on Friday night we walked downtown with her 10 year old son to one of the
buildings I just helped you sell, Alexanders, got ice cream and sat out on a
bench. On both of those nights we looked out on the courthouse square – nearly
every parking space taken, people on the sidewalks window shopping, the restaurant
full, music spilled out of the sports bar down the street, trees growing up
around the restored courthouse. Those nights I thought of you and the seeds you
planted.
When I had my first weekly newspaper column in the 1990s,
you sought me out on your trips to Noblesville, just to sit and chat. Do you
remember that? I know you sought me out because I was a lonely voice of
opposition in a town that didn’t care much for opposing views. Your encouragement
meant the world to me and gave me reason to keep writing, erasing some of the
doubts that preyed on me, countering the nasty letters to the editor in
response to my columns. When I was the first Main Street president, fighting to
get the rest of the courthouse square moving in the direction of your example,
while I was being ignored or rebuffed by building and business owners as a
starry-eyed meddler, your notes of support kept me going.
Do you recall 10 years ago you visited town while I was salvaging architectural detail from a house on 10th Street the
city was planning to tear down? It was a house I rented when I first moved to
Noblesville. You told me you had taken piano lessons there as a child and asked
me to find you a memento. In the attic, I found the original ornate screen door
that was once on the front door of the house. There was an old brass bell still
hanging from a wire at the top of the door, a bell that would have rung when you
as a young boy came through the door for your lessons. Made me happy to hand
that tarnished old thing over to you.
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| Mike Kraft, on his recent 80th birthday. |
Your sentimental love for this town blows me away.
The years have taken their toll. I know your feet, your
hands, and your mind are all moving more slowly now. As we worked to sell these
properties it broke my heart a little when I sensed over the phone and through
the emails that you were feeling powerless and of little use to the world around
you. But you have moved mountains in the town where you grew up, the same place
where I’ve made my life and where my own kids grew up, on the same streets you
ran and loved as a child.
In my book, you are a giant.
In my book, you are a giant.
