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March 2, 2026

St. James Court, Then and Now: The Story That Shaped CFN

Center for Neighborhoods

On a quiet evening in Old Louisville, St. James Court doesn’t feel like a “district.” It feels like a living room for an entire city—gas lamps glowing, the fountain humming, giant porches leaning toward the sidewalk like they want to start a conversation. It’s one of Louisville’s original “walking court” showpieces, and it’s been recognized for that history for decades. (NPGallery)


But here’s the part people forget: this beauty wasn’t inevitable. In the late 20th century—especially by the time the 1980s rolled around—Old Louisville was still working its way back from a long slide that started earlier in the century, when oversized homes became hard to maintain and many were chopped into apartments. (Curbed)


And St. James Court—iconic as it is—was not immune to the basic question that haunts every historic neighborhood: How do you keep the buildings alive when the market can’t carry them?


The moment that created our “why”


Center for Neighborhoods began in 1972 as the Louisville Community Design Center—part of a national wave of community design centers created to help residents overcome barriers like redlining and the damage of urban renewal. The idea was simple and radical: communities deserved professional-grade design help and practical plans, not just opinions from the outside. (GovDelivery)


That origin matters for St. James Court because the neighborhood’s challenge wasn’t abstract. These were big, aging structures with high operating costs. When a mansion can’t find a buyer, it doesn’t “pause.” It deteriorates. And deterioration, in a historic place, becomes a countdown.


So CFN and neighborhood partners did what Louisville needed at that time: they focused on viability. People who were there describe early work that included evaluating a set of large homes and helping chart a path to convert them from single-family houses into multi-family dwellings—an adaptive-reuse move that kept roofs repaired, utilities stable, and the neighborhood occupied.


That kind of work—pragmatic, architectural, survival-focused—helped preserve the physical bones of Old Louisville at a moment when many cities lost theirs forever.


What worked—and why it worked


If you want a clean, visible “proof of concept,” look at what St. James Court still is: a place where architecture, public space, and walkability create real value. The National Register documentation highlights that the courts became a kind of intentional enclave—an early form of urban planning that produced an unusually cohesive pedestrian environment.


And the neighborhood has always attracted creative energy. The National Register materials even note how the courts tended to draw “creative personalities in the arts,” the kind of people who bring vibrancy before the market brings money.

Then the St. James Court Art Show became part of the neighborhood’s self-rescue story—an event launched in the 1950s that grew into a cultural anchor and economic engine. (Spectrum News 1)


For decades, one weekend a year has reminded Louisville what this place is worth.


This is the win: the buildings survived long enough for the neighborhood to become desirable again.  The uncomfortable truth: saving buildings isn’t the same as building a complete neighborhood.


Now for the hard part—the part we can’t romanticize.


Even with all the success, Old Louisville has wrestled for years with day-to-day quality-of-life needs that a thriving neighborhood should have solved. One glaring example: groceries.


In 2019, a major report on Louisville’s closing grocery stores pointed out that a former Kroger at 922 S. Second Street in Old Louisville was purchased for a non-grocery use—and the story quoted local leadership saying plainly that the neighborhood still needed grocery options and that the lack of fresh, affordable food choices was “disheartening.” (USC Center for Health Journalism)


That line lands because it exposes the gap between historic preservation and neighborhood health. A community can have extraordinary architecture and still struggle with basic access.


And that’s the bigger lesson from St. James Court: you can protect the shell and still miss the system.


The neighborhood is changing again—this time in reverse


There’s another twist that would have sounded impossible decades ago: some of those multi-family conversions are now being undone.


A high-profile example sits right on St. James Court—“The Pink Palace.” It’s known today as a single-family home, and the story notes that it was converted and later returned to single-family use. (StyleBlueprint)


This trend isn’t just one quirky house. City planning language in recent years has even referenced conversions back to single-family use as a “current market trend” in the Old Louisville/Limerick area. (Louisville.gov)


Is that success?


Yes—and also, it depends what kind of success you mean.

  • If the goal was preservation and long-term demand, the “reverse conversion” is a signal the neighborhood won.
  • If the goal was durable mixed-income housing and room for “the wanderers,” the reverse conversion raises a warning flag about affordability, displacement pressure, and who gets to stay once a place becomes valuable.


What we would do differently today—and why our work has evolved


This is where CFN’s origin story becomes more than history—it becomes a compass.


CFN has evolved from a design center doing primarily human-centered architecture work into an organization focused on education, engagement, and resident leadership—training and programs that help neighbors define priorities and build power together.


That shift isn’t “mission drift.” It’s maturity.


Because St. James Court taught Louisville something that community developers have had to learn the hard way: Physical change without people-power is fragile.  It can preserve buildings, but it won’t necessarily produce belonging, stability, or equitable outcomes.


If CFN were doing that same St. James-style work today, the blueprint would be bigger than floorplans:

  • We’d still fight for the buildings—because place matters.
  • But we’d also organize around the systems that decide whether a neighborhood functions: food access, small business vitality, renter protections, wealth-building pathways, civic trust, and resident-led decision-making.
  • And we’d measure success not just by rehabbed facades—but by whether residents can actually build a life there.


Conclusion: the new model is people who can move a city


St. James Court is proof that neighborhoods can come back. It’s also proof that “coming back” doesn’t automatically mean “getting better for everyone.”


CFN’s work today is a new model because it refuses to choose between the two. We help residents build the skills, relationships, and shared plans that turn hope into action—so change isn’t something that happens to a neighborhood, but something neighbors produce together.


We’re not just helping improve blocks; we’re helping people rebuild agency in their own lives, and then scale that agency into collective power.


That’s the real legacy of St. James Court: when people have tools, voice, and a way to act together, they can save what matters—and build what’s been missing.

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Start with Neighbors, Then Follow Their Lead

By Center For Neighborhoods • September 30, 2026
Start with Neighbors, then Follow their lead  Yesterday, Mayor Craig Greenberg stood in Russell and announced 25 new permanently affordable homes on Elliott Avenue. In that presentation, there was one thing not apparent: Russell: A Place of Promise, the neighborhood's community land trust, is leading the project. Its partners include The Housing Partnership, Inc., Louisville Metro Government, which is investing $1.45 million, and the Louisville Affordable Housing Trust Fund, which is adding $1 million. The homes are the part people will see. The part that made them possible started years ago, on front porches, when organizers knocked on doors and asked Russell residents what they wanted for their neighborhood. Then they kept listening, and eventually they handed residents the keys to the process itself. The most important asset is already there Asset Based Community Development starts from a simple idea: the people who live in a neighborhood are its foundation. Residents know which blocks are changing, which elders everyone trusts, and what a new development will mean for the family next door. No consultant can bring that knowledge in from outside. Russell has plenty to build on. It was once a hub of Black-owned businesses that created jobs and a center of Black homeownership. It is also a neighborhood that lived through redlining and urban renewal, and through decades of plans made about Black residents instead of with them. A resident-first approach takes both parts of that history seriously. How Russell did it Two leaders have carried this work from the start. Cassandra Webb and Theresa Zawacki, RPOP's Interim Co-Executive Directors, have led the initiative since its beginning, bringing backgrounds in community organizing and urban planning. That pairing matters. Organizing and planning worked side by side from the first day, instead of planning going first and outreach coming later. Webb has explained that the team chose from the beginning to invest in people first, because community development too often treats people as an afterthought. Zawacki has described the work as building shared decision-making and shared learning with Russell residents. The early work was slow and personal. Since 2018, RPOP has canvassed the neighborhood, held events large and small, and set up neighborhood pop-ups with resources. Those conversations grew into organized groups of residents. In 2020, the Russell for Russell Resident Coalition brought together 26 Black Russell residents between the ages of 22 and 72, and their work produced the Russell Partnership Pledge, a set of shared values that still guides RPOP. Residents didn't only give feedback on someone else's plan. RPOP's structure as a nonprofit community land trust, and its founding board members, came out of a multi-year shared learning process in which Russell residents worked with RPOP to define the organization's future. Today RPOP's board is made up mostly of community members who take part directly in land use planning. A community land trust works like this: residents buy the house while the land stays in trust, which lowers the cost of owning a home and caps resale prices so the home stays affordable for the next family. Residents picked this tool because it answers the question they kept raising. How do we welcome investment without being pushed out by it? What a resident-first process asks of us Russell's path breaks down into four steps. Each one builds on the one before it, and none of them can be skipped. Step 1: Go find people where they are. A meeting notice on a website reaches the people who already come to meetings. Knocking on doors reaches everyone else. In Russell, this meant years of canvassing, pop-ups, and events before anyone talked about a plan. Step 2: Let residents set the priorities. Once people are at the table, ask what matters most to them, and accept the answer even when it differs from what the city or a funder expected. A plan built on residents' priorities is stronger because neighbors will defend it. Step 3: Hand over the lead. Input sessions ask residents what they think. A resident-led process asks residents to decide, then gives them seats on the board that carries out the decision. In Russell, that board is made up mostly of community members. Step 4: Plan for years, and budget for them. RPOP launched in 2018. The homes announced today are breaking ground in 2026. That time was work, not a delay, and funders and the city have to pay for it the same way they pay for construction. Metro already knows how to do this For city leaders, the best news in Russell's story is that Metro helped start it. RPOP launched in 2018 with incubation from Cities United and Louisville Metro Government, and fiscal sponsorship from the Community Foundation of Louisville. Fiscal sponsorship means an established nonprofit handles the money and paperwork so a new effort can get started before it has its own nonprofit status. Metro also lent its own people. Zawacki left her position as Senior Policy Advisor to Louisville Forward to serve as an Executive on Loan to the initiative during its early years. And Metro has committed land: the former American Cigar Company site at 30th and Madison is owned by Louisville Metro Government with a formal commitment to RPOP, and residents plan to make it a mixed commercial and residential campus. Staff time, patient support, public land, and trust in residents' decisions made today's announcement possible. None of those are unusual tools. Metro can offer them to other neighborhoods on purpose. The ask Before Metro funds the next neighborhood plan in Louisville, build the RPOP steps into the contract from the start. Pay for door knocking and years of organizing, not only the final document. Require that residents set the priorities and hold seats on whatever body carries the plan forward. And when public land is on the table, offer it first to the residents who wrote the plan. Russell's neighbors did the hard work of deciding what their neighborhood needs. Twenty-five families on Elliott Avenue will soon live in the result.
Modern storefronts at dusk with lit windows, trees, parked cars, and floating profile icons over the street.

Who Owns The Block?

By Center For Neighborhoods • September 28, 2026
How much of the commercial property in a neighborhood is owned by the people who live around it, and how much wealth has that ownership built for them? No one can answer. There is no registry, no reporting standard and no annual number. Capital allocates to what it can see, and this category is nearly invisible.

Louisville Is Rewriting the Rules for What Gets Built Where

By Center For Neighborhoods • September 24, 2026
If you followed this year's fight over data centers in Jefferson County, you've already seen the Land Development Code at work. The packed public hearings, proposed setbacks from homes and schools, and Planning Commission's 5-3 vote in September all came down to rules about what gets built where. The same code that determines how close a 500,000-square-foot server farm can sit to a house also decides whether your street can have a duplex, a corner store, or a sidewalk that leads somewhere. Louisville is now rewriting that code in full for the first time since 2003. The Land Development Code puts the city's comprehensive plan, Plan 2040, into practice. It defines single-family and duplex lots, determines which businesses can open on commercial corridors, and sets rules for subdivision plats, signs, landscaping, and connections to transit. It applies to every neighborhood in Jefferson County outside the 12 independent cities. In 2020, Metro Council passed Resolution 82, directing the Office of Planning to recommend changes that would make development more equitable and inclusive. A HUD grant is funding the full rewrite. The goals are to bring the code up to date, make it easier for residents and applicants to navigate, and use language people can understand without a lawyer. In West and South Louisville, decades of disinvestment have left neighborhoods with walkable streets and small lots that could support duplexes and corner apartment buildings. But the code still limits most of those blocks to single-family homes. Neighbors can't legally rebuild the density that once existed there. The Highlands has nearly identical old streets and mostly allows that housing mix today, which helps explain why it looks the way it does. Farther out, in wealthier, less dense parts of the county, large-lot, single-family-only zoning continues to keep density and diverse neighbors out, just as it was designed to do almost a century ago. An equitable rewrite needs to address those restrictions along with the barriers in West and South Louisville. Neighborhoods that used zoning to stay closed off should be part of the change. For families, the rewrite could change the housing choices available on their block. Across much of the city, single-family-only zoning rules out duplexes, accessory units, and small apartment buildings that help keep neighborhoods affordable for multiple generations of the same family. Small businesses face their own barriers. Rigid commercial zoning can make it hard to open a corner store, restaurant, or home-based business on a street where neighbors already walk and want those services. The new rules will help determine what housing and businesses are possible in your neighborhood for years. CFN's Policy Hub explains how zoning works, what form districts are, and how a text amendment such as the data center rules moves through Metro Council. Its plain-language zoning and planning overview is one of the site's most-visited pages. The update runs through December 2028. Plans call for 12 public meetings in three rounds, with planning staff office hours after each round. There will also be six focus groups, including one for neighborhood organizations, and neighborhood walking tours. Before the first round of meetings, the Office of Planning is holding Community Dinner Conversations for neighborhoods that have historically been left out of planning discussions, including West and South Louisville. No meeting dates are posted yet. Sign up for project updates on Louisville Metro’s LDC Project website to be notified when public meetings and other engagement opportunities are announced. CivicPulse is presented by Center for Neighborhoods as part of our effort to use AI to help distill public information and make civic issues easier to follow. AI can make errors. Please let us know how we’re doing.

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