The Shot Tower. The Washington Monument. The Harborplace pavilions. Two of these are untouchable historic landmarks in Baltimore. Is the third?

Tuesday’s election more or less answered that question. No.

When voters decided to allow residential buildings at the Inner Harbor, they also greenlit an ambitious redevelopment plan that will start with the demolition of those familiar green-roofed pavilions.

Baltimore has rules that protect the old and unique buildings that prompt feelings of nostalgia, invoke fond memories and teach us about our past. Harborplace might tick those boxes, but historic preservation laws are unlikely to save the pavilions, according to historic preservation attorney John C. Murphy.

They’re not quite historic enough, it turns out. The Gen X era buildings are shy of the half-century mark that would help historic preservationists make the case to save them.

Murphy has been arguing historic preservation cases in Baltimore for decades. He has played a role in some of the biggest development fights in Baltimore, pushing back on the use of eminent domain and establishing that the city’s economic development arm is not a private entity, but rather a government agency that must conform to Maryland’s public records laws.

Many of these brawls either originated at or involved the Commission for Historical and Architectural Preservation, or CHAP, a city board established in 1964. CHAP plays a key role in designating historic landmarks in Baltimore, which can save those buildings from demolition.

Baltimore’s guidelines largely mirror federal guidelines. The feds only consider a building historic if it’s at least 50 years old. Harborplace is 44 years old. There are exceptions to this rule, including if a building has achieved “exceptional importance.” But Murphy said that won’t matter in Baltimore.

Landmark designations require a City Council ordinance approved by the mayor, Murphy said, and members of the City Council and Mayor Brandon Scott are almost all in favor of the redevelopment of Harborplace. Enabling legislation sailed through the Baltimore City Council earlier this year, with Scott as one of its biggest champions.

There’s a possibility the federal government could bestow a historical designation on the pavilions, Murphy said, but that, too, is unlikely. It typically requires a nomination by the state, Murphy said, and Gov. Wes Moore also has heralded the redevelopment of Harborplace.

Harborplace was an immediate sensation when it opened in 1980. It drew more visitors than Disney World and inspired a wave of similar waterfront developments in cities across the world. But over time, the “festival marketplace” began to feel like a mall, with more national chains and fewer local stores.

Harborplace was sold, then sold again. Tenants abandoned the pavilions. The structures fell into disrepair and became an eyesore.

Last year, MCB Real Estate bought them for $83 million. The Baltimore-based firm has proposed a radical reimagining of the Inner Harbor. MCB wants to build bigger and taller buildings than currently exist, though its plan also would change the surrounding streetscape, add more parkland and make the area friendlier to pedestrians and cyclists.

In multiple interviews this year, MCB’s co-founder P. David Bramble said the pavilions should be demolished. In recent years, they became “sheds on the water full of crappy tenants,” he said.

“There’s nothing special or iconic about these buildings,” Bramble said in another interview.

It was the people who made Harborplace exceptional and created that festival-like atmosphere, Bramble said, meaning the shoppers, the tourists, the small-business owners and the restaurateurs.

It was also the architecture, Murphy said.

The low-slung pavilions were amenities that added to the Inner Harbor, he said. They didn’t dominate it. Their limited footprint and a 50-foot restriction on height meant the city-owned land at the Inner Harbor would remain an open space for the public, Murphy said, calling it one of Baltimore’s greatest attributes.

It wasn’t always this way.

For much of Baltimore’s history, the Inner Harbor was privately owned by commercial interests, who built atop the marshy shoreline. They extended docks farther into the water and created new land, according to video documentary by Baltimore Heritage and its executive director, Johns Hopkins. Hopkins, a local historian, said the land didn’t become public property until the Great Baltimore Fire of 1904, which decimated downtown.

The city used eminent domain to seize property along the waterfront and rebuild the docks crucial to commerce in the Chesapeake Bay, Hopkins said, while creating a pier solely for public access and recreation. After the construction of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, much of the produce, seafood and goods unloaded from ships in the Inner Harbor started traveling via truck to Baltimore.

Following World War II, Baltimore embarked a decades-long redevelopment of its downtown. The warehouses and industrial buildings along the waterfront were razed, paving the way for attractions like Harborplace.

Murphy said he believes there is a legal case to preserve the Inner Harbor as-is by arguing that Harborplace and the surrounding land is a “charitable trust.” In property law, a charitable trust refers to land that is meant for the enjoyment or use of the public and cannot be altered by future owners.

When voters approved the Harborplace plans via ballot question in 1978, they enacted certain provisions — height restrictions and parkland definitions — that effectively make the Inner Harbor a charitable trust, Murphy said.

A similar argument in 1938 prevented a city plan to put playgrounds in what is today Leakin Park.

When Murphy presented this legal option to a coalition group that opposed the redevelopment of Harborplace, he said they declined to pursue it.

Instead, they filed a lawsuit challenging the language of the ballot question that allowed residential buildings at the Inner Harbor, claiming it was confusingly worded and misleading. The Maryland Supreme Court disagreed, the question stayed on the ballot, and 60% of voters supported it.

Murphy said a charitable trust lawsuit is still possible, but he would need someone to step forward as the plaintiff.

“I’m not going to file a case without a client,” Murphy said.