The Giant Paint Can: A Quirky Landmark or a Burden?
There’s something undeniably charming about a giant paint can perched atop a building. It’s the kind of thing that makes you do a double-take, smile, and maybe even snap a photo. But in Rochester, Minnesota, this quirky icon is at the center of a debate that goes far beyond its whimsical appearance. Struve’s Paint and Decorating, a local institution since 1948, is under consideration for landmark status—and its most recognizable feature, the rooftop paint can, is the star of the show.
What makes this particularly fascinating is how a seemingly trivial object can spark such intense discussion. On the surface, it’s just a big paint can. But dig deeper, and you’ll find questions about community identity, historic preservation, and the tension between nostalgia and progress. Personally, I think this debate is a microcosm of a much larger conversation happening in cities across America: how do we honor the past without stifling the future?
The Symbolism of the Paint Can
The paint can isn’t just a sign—it’s a symbol. For many, it’s a nostalgic landmark, a quirky piece of local history that defines the neighborhood. Commission member Aleida Koestler called it a “quirky little historical piece,” and I couldn’t agree more. It’s the kind of thing that makes a place feel unique, a marker of identity in a world increasingly dominated by chain stores and generic architecture.
But here’s where it gets interesting: the paint can’s history is murkier than you’d think. Molly Patterson-Lungren, the city’s heritage preservation coordinator, pointed out that the can was likely added years after the store’s iconic clock, which was featured in a 1957 ad. This raises a deeper question: does the can’s significance lie in its age, or in the role it’s played in the community’s memory?
In my opinion, the paint can’s value isn’t in its historical accuracy but in its cultural resonance. It’s become a shared reference point, a piece of local folklore. Remember the story about drivers missing their turns when the can blew down in a windstorm? That’s the kind of anecdote that turns an object into a legend.
The Landmark Debate: Preservation vs. Progress
The push to designate Struve’s as a landmark isn’t just about the paint can—it’s about preserving a piece of Rochester’s identity. But not everyone is on board. Some commission members, like Jennifer Shabel, questioned whether the can holds enough broader significance to warrant landmark status. “Does it mean something to the broader community?” she asked.
From my perspective, this is where the debate gets tricky. Landmark status isn’t just a badge of honor—it comes with restrictions. Future owners would be limited in how they can alter the property, which could deter buyers or increase costs. Bruce Struve, the current owner, seems unfazed, especially since he’s in talks to sell the building to Nels and Nicole Pierson, who plan to keep the can. But what if the next owner isn’t so enthusiastic?
One thing that immediately stands out is the financial implications. Nels Pierson, who’s experienced this firsthand with the North Broadway Dairy Queen, pointed out that landmark designation can devalue a property. “The seller could have got more money for it if it wasn’t devalued,” he said. This raises a critical issue: how do we balance preservation with economic viability?
What many people don’t realize is that historic preservation isn’t just about saving old buildings—it’s about creating incentives that make it worthwhile. Pierson hit the nail on the head when he said, “I think historic preservation designation is fantastic when there are incentives that make owning those buildings more attractive.” Without community investment or tax breaks, landmark status can feel like a burden rather than an honor.
The Broader Implications: What’s at Stake?
If you take a step back and think about it, the paint can debate is about more than just one building. It’s about how we define and protect our cultural heritage in an era of rapid change. Rochester, like many cities, is facing development pressures, and landmarks like Struve’s can serve as anchors of continuity.
A detail that I find especially interesting is the role of informal landmarks. The paint can has been a de facto icon for decades, even without official designation. This suggests that communities often decide what’s worth preserving long before any commission gets involved.
What this really suggests is that preservation isn’t just a bureaucratic process—it’s a deeply human one. It’s about the stories we tell ourselves, the places we cherish, and the things that make us say, “This is home.”
The Future of the Paint Can
So, what’s next for the giant paint can? The Heritage Preservation Commission’s decision to study the property is just the first step. Even if it’s designated a landmark, the can’s future will depend on the community’s willingness to support it.
Personally, I think the paint can deserves to stay. It’s more than just a sign—it’s a piece of Rochester’s soul. But I also recognize the challenges. Landmark status shouldn’t be a one-size-fits-all solution. It needs to come with support systems that make preservation feasible for owners and beneficial for the community.
If you take a step back and think about it, the paint can debate is a reminder that history isn’t just about the past—it’s about the choices we make today. Will we prioritize quirky, beloved landmarks like the paint can, or will we let them fade into memory? The answer says a lot about who we are and what we value.
In the end, the giant paint can isn’t just a relic of the past—it’s a question for the future. And how we answer it will shape the Rochester we leave behind for generations to come.
