‘WILL ROGERS never met Harry Reid,” says the sign over the bar at the Santa Fe Saloon in the small town of Goldfield, Nevada.

It’s a reference to the entertainer’s quote that he never met a man he didn’t like.

Reid is a Democratic senator, so no surprise that he has enemies.

But he has received the unusual honour of having his name put over the 140-year-old bar because he wants to save the town from dilapidation.

Goldfield, named for the Gold Rush, used to be the biggest city in the Wild West and Virgil Earp (Wyatt’s brother) was once its deputy-sheriff.

Now, though, its dilapidated buildings make it a near ghost-town.

Reid wants to undo the 86 years of neglect, since a fire in 1923 destroyed much of the town, but its residents aren’t impressed.

“We like the way it is – no rules, no hassle. People don’t care what you wear, what you do or where you live,” one told the local paper.

They’re also worried about giving their town National Park Status, meaning the US government can decree how they should keep their homes – what colours they can paint them, how they should carry out repairs, much like our Listings process in the UK.

So who’s right? Is Senator Reid a heritage pioneer who is saving a town that cannot help itself, or is he an interfering busybody whose plans threaten people’s right to live their lives as they choose?

Are the feelings of Goldfield residents less important than preserving a slice of history for future generations?

It’s a hard call and one that hopefully can reach a compromise.

But it’s an interesting subject, particularly given the ongoing debates about whether to list or not to list that simmer on in our own city.

It’s important to remember the past, but not at the expense of the future – and it can be hard to find a balance.

Not forgetting the point-of-view that, while awarding a building with Listed status protects it from demolition or partial-destruction, it can also limit its uses.

This was one of the arguments used against listing the former Littlewoods building, on Edge Lane, back when there was a campaign to prevent it being knocked down.

And it has a point. What’s the use of keeping a building if no purpose for it can be found?

Should we leave it lying empty just because it’s pretty or has a claim to fame like the Stanley Dock Tobacco Warehouse, which was the world’s largest brick building at the time of its construction?

The most useful advice often comes from the most unlikely places, in this case from the paper conservators at Liverpool’s National Conservation Centre.

I interviewed one a few years ago about restoring Pre-Raphaelite sketches for an exhibition at the Lady Lever.

He revealed that he would not be tackling some elements of damage or ageing, because the technology needed to complete the repair had not been invented yet.

Instead of attempting a semi-decent job of it, the blot would remain.

One day there would be a way to fix the problem and meddling now wouldn’t help their colleagues of the future to carry out their work.

It takes this sort of patience to be a conservator – 10 years of waiting for a new invention is nothing compared to three days of meticulously dabbing tiny fragments of cellulose into a hole on the edge of a sketch.

If the city had been too hasty, St George’s Hall would have been knocked down in the 70s and we’d have lost another treasure to add to the long list that includes the Customs House and Sailors’ Home.

Fortunately, then it was accepted that, just because they didn’t have an idea right then, didn’t mean someone else wouldn’t have one in the future.

READ more of Laura’s columns at liverpooldailypost. co.uk/lauradavis

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