As downtown Jacksonville courts billions in development deals and the skyline reshapes with every new high-rise, a quieter erosion continues below the surface—one of historic neglect, inconsistent enforcement, and deepening public distrust.

Take 324 N. Broad Street, for example. Built in 1904 and once home to the Black-owned National Mercantile Realty & Improvement Company, the structure was acquired by the City of Jacksonville in 1994. Since then, it has sat in decay—its roof collapsed, its bones rotting, its historical significance quietly fading under city ownership across the street from the $350 million Duval County Courthouse.

Now, more than three decades after acquiring the property, the City is seeking to demolish most of the building, aiming to preserve only the facade, if possible. The Downtown Investment Authority (DIA) approved $195,000 in funding for this partial demolition. But this move raises a troubling question: how did a publicly owned, historically significant building become so unstable in the first place? And why, while the city condemns private owners for similar neglect, has it allowed one of its own assets to deteriorate beyond repair?

The City’s Role in Neglect

The irony is thick. While the city ramps up enforcement on private properties and publicly forecloses on historic icons like the Laura Street Trio for years of neglect, it has let 324 N. Broad Street rot on its own watch. Owned by the city since the mid-90s, this building sits between two private properties in the heart of LaVilla—one of Jacksonville’s most culturally significant and historically Black neighborhoods.

There’s been no indication that the city undertook any serious stabilization work at 324 Broad over the past 30 years. Only after its complete deterioration and risk of collapse has the city moved toward demolition. If this isn’t demolition by neglect, what is?

Collapse on Main Street: A Citywide Pattern?

The March 17 collapse of the Phoenix Art District - Solomon’s Auction House on Main Street only intensifies scrutiny. That structure, privately owned but similarly deteriorated, failed with no warning—though signs of disuse were clearly visible. According to Jacksonville Fire Rescue, the building’s roof was rotted through. The collapse could have killed someone.

This isn’t just about two buildings. It’s about the broader collapse of a coherent, fair, and proactive preservation policy. It’s about a city that’s chasing a modern skyline while its architectural foundations crumble—sometimes literally—beneath it.

The Historic Preservation Commission’s New Role

In 2024, Jacksonville’s Historic Preservation Commission formed a Demolition by Neglect Task Force in response to these growing concerns. Their final report calls for common-sense reforms: identifying high-risk properties, publicizing code violations, and integrating fines into the tax rolls to make them enforceable. Yet the case of 324 N. Broad exposes a fatal flaw: even the city itself isn’t held accountable to those standards.

If private developers can be fined, sued, and publicly shamed for neglect—why can’t the city face similar scrutiny?

A Hypocritical Approach to Redevelopment

Nowhere is this contradiction clearer than with the Laura Street Trio. The city has resumed foreclosure proceedings against SouthEast Development Group for nearly a million dollars in unpaid fines, code violations, and unfulfilled promises. Years of delays, ballooning public incentives, and growing concerns over safety have led to what many see as an overdue crackdown.

But again, the hypocrisy is unavoidable: while the city publicly hammers private developers like Steve Atkins for the exact same neglect, it quietly allows buildings like 324 N. Broad to deteriorate under its own management.

Is there one standard for private owners and another for the city? And how many more buildings must collapse before public safety, not just public image, becomes the priority?

Moving Forward: Policy or Performance?

The demolition of 324 N. Broad—if it proceeds—should not happen in silence. It should be a moment of reckoning. The city must be held to the same standards it demands of others. The Demolition by Neglect Task Force’s recommendations are a step in the right direction, but without real enforcement—even against the city itself—they risk becoming just another document collecting dust.

And the broader public should take note: as millions in incentives are handed out to developers and facades are propped up for press releases, we must demand a preservation policy grounded not in hypocrisy, but in consistency, accountability, and respect for the city's cultural heritage.

324 N. Broad Street didn’t fall into despair overnight. It took three decades of inaction, under city ownership, for it to reach the point of no return.

The question now is: how many more buildings—public or private—will follow?