In the early 1980s, the old Issaquah train station depot was a shell of a building, in disrepair and in real danger of crumbling to the earth, to be lost forever as a connection to the city’s history.

Greg Spranger had seen first hand just how real the threat was that these vital artifacts could be destroyed and erased.

He had watched that very thing happen in the lands of the “Orange Empire,” in Orange County, Calif., where he grew up.

Developers, with no incentive to preserve or protect the plantation-style homes that sprouted up like mansions among the orchards and groves, pulled them down or just let them disintegrate.

They became the victims of a philosophy of transience that historian and novelist Wallace Stegner said was the hallmark of the West.

“Our migratoriness has robbed us of the gods that make places holy,” Stegner wrote.

Determined that history wouldn’t repeat itself in his adopted Washington, Stranger led the drive of the Issaquah History Museums to restore the depot.

In doing so the group of volunteers not only remembered and treasured what could have been forgotten, but have also provided the city of Issaquah with a tourist focal point, an attraction, and a resource of learning.

“I arrived in Issaquah in 1983, and at that time the main street was really a tired place,” he said. “The depot was a boarded up old warehouse, and the museum at the old Gilman Town Hall was about to close. It was run by just six or so volunteers, tying to do the best with what they had, which wasn’t much.”

Fast-forward to 2009, and the Issaquah Depot is now on the National Register of Historic Places in Washington, and one of the city’s main attractions. It seems unthinkable that the city could have progressed without it.

Up on the Plateau, the City of Sammamish is now contemplating a similar crisis of the past — the fate of Freed House, a pioneer farmhouse built in the 1890s.

The City Council is currently considering whether or not to pay for the house, probably the oldest structure of its kind in the city limits, to be moved from its current temporary home beside 212th Avenue Southeast, to a new home on the Sammamish Commons.

The relocation cost is estimated at about $300,000, which does not include any renovations.

The home was first occupied by Jacob D. Reard and his wife Emma. They purchased the property on which the house is located around 1890.

The 80 acres was purchased from the Northern Pacific Railroad Company for the sum of $380.

Oscar Freed acquired the property in about 1930, and his family raised chickens and Hereford cattle there. Freed later became the district’s first water commissioner.

Council members are divided over the fiscal responsibility of moving and restoring the house.

Mayor Don Gerend told The Reporter this week that the Sammamish Heritage Society had presented a thoughtful and compelling case for the preservation of Freed House.

“This house is over 100 years old, and we don’t have much in the way of heritage in this city,” he said. Though he recognized the importance of the building in preserving the history of the area, he, like some of the other councillors, would prefer that the city wasn’t solely responsible for paying for the relocation and restoration.

“This could be a good opportunity for civilian groups to get involved,” he said, echoing the sentiments of council member Jack Barry.

Barry said on Tuesday that he could envision a partnership where the city paid for, say, half of the project, with the rest being provided by the volunteer labor of invested groups.

City Manager Ben Yazici said that although the house was a significant structure, “the council and city staff are struggling with the financial constraints we’ve been placed under.”

He said he would be interested to see what suggestions the Heritage Society could offer come June 2, when the council will meet again to decide the fate of the house.

Council member Nancy Whitten was less conciliatory, saying that she was disappointed in the fundraising efforts of those groups who had lobbied for the restoration.

“It was my understanding that these groups would have a look at what grants were available, and do some sort of fundraising, but it doesn’t look like they’ve done anything,” she said. “I’m concerned that this could be the big hole, that we will spend the $300,000 or so to move it, and then there won’t be any funding for the renovation.”

“I’m not interested in moving it without a commitment from somewhere to fund the renovation.”

Whitten said her preference would be to leave the house where it is for a year, during which time interested groups could do the necessary fundraising.