Why’d Ya Tear It Down?

475 N. Lindbergh
Florissant MO

This building was always a bank, as long as I can remember from growing up in North St. Louis County.  In December of 2001 I snapped this quick picture as I waited in traffic, as a visual reminder to go back and photograph it properly at a later date.  I like round buildings, in general, and I liked how this one’s roundness was composed of blonde brick panels with long, skinny windows between.  It was a low-key but slightly whimsical building.

Since taking this photo, I’d passed the bank many times, but conditions were always wrong for photos.  One brilliant spring day in 2007, I was back in the area and thought, “This is the day to shoot the round bank building!” But no, it was gone.  All that remained was a busted up blacktop parking lot and a round hole where the building was.  This is the only photo I have, the only reminder.

Now here it is, almost 3 years later, and Desco still has a For Sale sign up on an ugly, busted up blacktop property, with a listing price of $1.7 million.

The building was torn down and the property put up for sale well before the real estate meltdown, so that excuse for its vacancy is only 18 months old, at best .  And I’m assuming Desco figured it would be easier to sell property in this dense retail corridor without the building on it.

It’s always been expensive to build new buildings, which is why – in the current financial climate – many companies are happy to convert existing retail/commercial buildings to their needs.  And it has always been expensive to demolish a building of this size, but in happier economic times, realtors could afford to gamble on a bigger gain by clearing a property.

But in this case, the gamble has yet to pay off, and I wonder if Desco had left that unique bank building in place if maybe someone in today’s climate would have been more willing to take it at a reduced price and remodel to suit?

Our recession is teaching everyone a lot about thrift, sustainability, resources and conservation.  It now seems shockingly wasteful to demolish a perfectly serviceable building in hopes of landing a buyer with really deep pockets for acquisition and construction.  Especially in the case of this property, which  – because it has neighbors on all sides – can only accommodate a small-to-medium sized building, much like the one that was once there.

I do miss the building, and do hope that Desco and their ilk contemplate the proverb: Waste Not, Want Not.

A Clip Joint

Natural Bridge Road
Bel Ridge, MO

Great name for a barber shop, isn’t it?

This tiny place, just east of the inner belt, fascinates me.  Built in 1930, it’s only 252 square feet, and appears to have always been a barber shop.

Barber shops, in general, fascinate me because it’s a Guy Place.  Ladies are no more welcome in them than guys are in beauty shops.  Oh sure, anyone’s welcome through the door, but when the opposite sex “invades” one of these places, you can cut uncomfortable with a knife.

When the Clip Joint is open, there always seems to be at least two cars parked around it.  Seems it would only take 3 people for the joint to feel crowded, but that’s probably part of the appeal of this joint.

Wild Safari in Jennings

West Florissant Avenue between
Goodfellow Blvd. & Lucas and Hunt Rd.

The only place I’ve seen such exotic exterior cladding is in a finite section of North St. Louis County, inside the inner-ring suburbs of Flordell Hills and Jennings.   Most of them are on – or not too far away from – West Florissant Avenue, were built in 1940, and range from 850 – 950 square feet, so it’s a safe guess that it’s the work of the same designer/construction company.

The year they were built is of special interest, as it was that brief time period after the Great Depression but before World War 2.  Meaning, this part of the county was already experiencing westward migration a full 5-6 years before the official start of the post-war Baby Boom.

But as a toddler living in Ferguson in the late 1960s, the only thing that made these houses stick out in my mind is that they have giraffe skin!

I first made the connection after seeing an episode of Marlin Perkins‘ Wild Kingdom about giraffes, and then passing by these homes the next day.  Did the original builder take inspiration from dreams of a wild safari in Africa? Or was it an idea cadged from someplace else?  If anyone has any insight or information, please do share.

It’s especially exciting when parts of the giraffe skin survive an exterior remodel.  Adds a bit of pizazz, don’t you think?

I encourage you to take a drive down this exact stretch of West Florissant and note the harmonious mingling of bungalow residential and mid-century modern commercial buildings.  It’s a compelling and easy-to-read chapter of the post-war development of our Metro St. Louis area, and makes a good case for a return to mixed-use zoning, which always brings variety and energy to any area that still allows such an old-fashioned way of living.

Some North County Love

Gone But Not Forgotten: A long-standing icon on Chambers Road in Ferguson, MO.

The inner-ring suburbs of North St. Louis County deserve a little attention.  First up, the Ferguson Planning and Development department is buying up small, foreclosed homes for future use.  This has long been a “if I had development money” dream of mine because as life gets too expensive to live it out on the fringes, people will start to migrate backwards over the former White Flight paths.  This will make inner-ring suburbs desirable locations yet again.

Read the Ferguson land-banking article here.

North County finally has a blog!

NOCO StL is a relatively new venture, and nicely done, especially this poignant reporting on the closing of a Jennings institution.

The Stone House Lives

Where North Highway 67 ends
North St. Louis County, MO

This is a picture of the very last house on the south side of Hwy 67.  It’s past Jamestown Mall, but several yards before the mighty street comes to a whimpering end before a forest.   I always thought this little stone house – built in 1948 – was so charming and so intriguing.  There’s no front yard, but a little over 2 acres of backyard.  But the feature that always caught my imagination was the outdoor terrace created in the space between the house and tiny garage.

I was both fascinated and jealous when passing by and catching someone using that special spot; how lucky were they?

In 2007, it became apparent the place was empty, and considering how developers were angling to obliterate every inch of greenery for a slight variation on the same retail they had just 15 miles down the road, I figured this place was toast.  But when driving by yesterday, I saw two men working on the house.  They were installing the new fascia you see in these photos.  And then I noticed it was a new roof, as well, and that the LLC who bought the place would only do something like that if they planned to sell it as a viable, 1,389 s.f. home that someone would be happy to live in.

Consider that homes even more substantial and younger than this get sold as teardowns, and understand why my heart burst with happiness over the sight of men fixing this house for its future.  They think it’s perfectly natural to save and re-use this little stone house, those lovable, wacky kids!

Tear Down Jamestown Mall

Christmas Eve 2008, the night Sears closed for good.

Jamestown Mall, Lindbergh & Old Jamestown Road
Florissant, MO

At the end of September 2009, The Urban Land Institute presented some ideas on what to do with a dying mall.  In a pdf of their presentation, they advocate tearing down the existing building and creating a new, mixed-use destination.  This proposal comes after the 2008 idea of turning the southwest (former Dillard’s) portion of the mall into senior housing and office space fell through due to, supposedly, national economic misfortune.

Jamestown Mall originally opened in 1973, shortly after my Mother and I moved into near-by Black Jack.  There were plenty of places to eat, (including a Pope’s cafeteria and a restaurant inside the Walgreens), a movie theater and all the stores my Mother already had credit cards for, so we went there a lot.

I have good memories of the place, like hanging out at the Camelot music store, which  got most of the grade-school and teenager money I had.  There’s also not-so-good memories, like having to pick out clothes in the Pretty Plus department at Sears, which was located right near the mall entrance, so I was in plain sight of high traffic.

There were high school midnight movies where we were so stoned we could barely walk, so I barely remember The Song Remains the Same or Rainbow Bridge.  There were periods of intense longing over toys in KayBee, gag gifts at Spencer’s and boys in my classes that I never thought twice about until I ran into them outside of school at the mall.

But these are all memories that I can conjure at will as I sit at home.  The last few times I stopped at the mall, none of those thoughts went through my head while walking the mall.  Instead, I was taken with the stainless steel and bronze sculptures that have been there since Day One, and meant nothing to me at the time, but now I think they’re beautiful, and I worry what will become of them if the mall is torn down.

Plaster bust of the late Fred Wehrle, property of the downtown Famous-Barr display department, which eventually made its way out to Jamestown Mall.

Buildings are historical proof that hold memories , which is one of the reasons people get upset when certain buildings are slated for demolition.  In the case of Jamestown Mall, it denotes a distinct period of Boom Town development in far North St. Louis County, and it holds plenty of memories, but the structure itself is unmemorable because it was purposely designed for all the action to be internal, so how it looked from the outside was an afterthought.

I loved everything about re-purposing a portion of it for senior housing, but since they’ve let that useful and innovative idea go, I’m completely on board with them leveling the existing mall and starting anew.  But I am completely against the suggested new use for the land.

Take a look at the aerial view of the mall and the surrounding area and note how much green there is around it.  Even with decades of new housing going up, this part of North County – out where the mighty Lindbergh Boulevard ends with a lackluster whimper – is still awesomely rural, verdant and never completely tamed.  High density retail and residential kind of peters out northeast of the New Halls Ferry & Lindbergh intersection, and large swaths of rolling hills still hold working farms (there’s still a barnyard animal feed and supply across from the mall on Lindbergh because the area needs one).  The Bubbleheads thrive out there for a reason – it’s woodsy seclusion sometimes interrupted by suburbia.

A concrete abstract sculpture that stood outside Stix/Dillard's is now missing. Where did it go to?

It was a weird gamble to put a mall in an area so far off the density grid.  For the first 15 years of its existence, the only other non-Lindbergh way to get to the mall was via a winding, hilly back road with dangerous curves and a rickety bridge over a snake-ridden creek that only us locals used.   “Over the river and through the woods to Grandmother’s mall we go…”

But it was a successful gamble for awhile, because there was nothing else like it in this remote area.  It was truly a shopping destination for St. Louis North Countians and those over the bridge in Alton, Illinois… until they got their own Alton Square.  And Northwest Plaza had more of the big stores, and wasn’t all that much further the other way up Lindbergh. And then retail trends changed to several Big Box lots spread throughout a municipality and Jamestown Mall became the remote island of Misfit Stores.

The dead end of Jamestown that was slated for senior housing and office space.

The ULI proposal recognizes how remote this location is, so logically suggests that it be turned into a bells and whistle mixed-use destination, a place so chock-full of everything and the kitchen sink that folks from all over the region will be itching to go there… until the newness fades away into the next Retail Destination dog and pony show that’s easier to get to.

They also propose that the new use have a Vegas-like reenactment of urban density, which is flat-out silly when you glance at the distinctly rural qualities of the areas surrounding it.  Florissant shouldn’t spend millions on a New Town, Part II.

I propose, instead, a totally original mixed-use idea that takes into consideration the area and its flavor and gives people something they can’t get anywhere else so that they are totally willing to come from all over to have a crack at it, repeatedly.

From the current proposal I’d keep the ice hockey pond and the farmer’s market.  To stick with the sports theme, let’s go extreme: could someone finally give our area a full-blown skateboard park, please?  Also add a bicycle motocross course.  Some of the original building foundations could be left in place for both of these items, and because we don’t have anything like this currently, they’d pull a steady stream of people all year long totally willing to pay to play.

If one or both is too radical an idea to consider, maybe pay homage to the horse culture still existent in this part of North County, with something similar to Pere Marquette Stables?

Expand the farmer’s market idea by also creating a pick-your-own vegetable garden.  Think Eckert’s apple orchard, with people paying to pick their own local vegetables that they know comes right from the ground.  There’s plenty of room for seasonal harvests like strawberries in the spring, pumpkin patches in the fall, and just like Waldbart Nursery nearby (let them sponsor it and support local business), chop your own Christmas tree in the winter.

Right on the Old Jamestown and Lindbergh corner I’d slap down a restaurant that naturally features seasonal food that comes from the gardens, and a cafe for hot or cold beverages and treats, depending on the time of year.  And so I don’t have to worry about the fate of the Jamestown Mall sculptures, move them into an outdoor sculpture and water garden for a unique dining-outdoors experience.

Any or all of these ideas would cost far less to develop than what is proposed, and promotes a sustainable, outdoors, healthy agenda that is not dependent on fickle retail trends or just-add-water urban islands inappropriate to the area.  Even with our crap economy, they could begin with the gardens on existing empty land while demolition happens on the mall, so that everyone can see innovative progress happen in stages, and even take part in the process.

Are these far-fetched ideas, or is it do-able?  Do you think it could pull people from all over the metropolitan area and contribute meaningfully to the area’s tax base?  And what are some other uses for the land other than the cliched ideas being proposed?

14-Year Old Boy Murdered on Meadowlark

2800 Block of Meadowlark Drive
Jennings, MO

The headline on July 4, 2009 read, “14-year old shot and killed in Jennings.” The second paragraph reported that it happened in the 2800 block of Meadowlark, and my heart sank. It’s too sad for comprehension when a young boy is riddled full of drive-by bullets. That I intimately know the street where he took his last steps kept haunting me.

So I had to take a drive to the old neighborhood; I needed to know where it happened. It was easy to spot the memorial at the bottom of the steep hill on Meadowlark. The stuffed animals underscored just how young he was. I saw ghost images of my kid-self walking past that spot hundreds of times, right past the house of the neighbor lady who ran out to administer CPR to the boy as he died. Tears welled up, and I got lost in remembering Meadowlark.

I was born one street south of Meadowlark, and when maternity leave was up, my mother had to find a babysitter. A neighbor said a woman on Meadowlark babysat in her home, and to give her a call. So my mother called Mildred Conine, who told her that she had recently stopped with full-time babysitting. My mother was desperate, and asked if Mildred could just watch me for a week while searching for another solution, and she agreed. After one week of taking care of me, she told my mother she would take the full time gig because I was such a quiet and sweet baby. Conine (I called her that because I couldn’t master the first name) and I were together for 12 years. She saw me take my first steps. She was my Other Mother.

The picture above is from May 1973. That’s me on the left, with Conine’s step-grandaughter, Debbie, on the front porch of her home at 2845 Meadowlark. The house was 600 square feet, built in 1939, with a full basement, a detahced garage that always smelled of the sawdust her husband Ray created, and a gloriously huge backyard for 2 dogs and a most wonderous vegetable garden.

I think about that house as much as I do Conine. After my parents divorced in 1973, she and the house were the only sense of normal I had left. It was a safe and happy place offering up endless adventure.

The last time I visited with her was Christmas 1978. Then puberty came and my life went selfishly beserk, as teenage girls usually go. Conine died in 1988, Ray a few years after that. Over the years, I kept regular tabs on the house, noticing when the asbestos shingles were covered with vinyl, and that the garage was starting to cave in on itself. But everything else about it – and the street – was still so much the same that it was always a special “return to those thrilling days of yesteryear.” Always a treat until…

…the spring of 2005, when I found boards on the windows and a condemnation notice on the front door. I stood on the front porch and broke into hard, devastated tears.

The picture above is a view from Conine’s front porch. That large building in the distance is Northland Shopping Center. Conine (who never had a driver’s license) and I knew about 7 different routes to walk to Northland, and did so at least twice a week. We’d see $1 movies, get groceries at Schnucks and each trip usually included a stop in at Kresges, where the toy aisles babysat me while Conine shopped. Conine and Northland are forever linked in my sense memory.

And in the spring of 2005, crews had begun swinging the wrecking balls and dismantling Northland, which was already disturbing me. Then to swing by here and see Conine’s house vacated and condemned? It was too symbolic, too unfair and hurt deeply. So I just sat on the porch and cried for the past, the present and no future.

Northland disappeared, but Conine’s house got a reprieve. Someone bought it, fixed it up and sold it! It’s still occupied to this day. That was an optimistic turn of events for 2845 Meadowlark. But over the following years I’ve noticed something odd about this block.

On the map above, “A” marks the spot of the memorial, “B” is the Conine house and the blue outline highlights all the houses on the opposite side of the street that are now vacant and condemned. In 2006, only one house was empty, and since Conine’s place got a second chance, I figured so would the one across the street. But as of July 4, 2009, 8 houses in a row are dead.

While Conine’s side of the street (above) is intact and occupied, the other side is an overgrown, sad mess of decay. It’s the kind of mass decay that breeds trouble and makes uneasy neighbors. The news will probably not follow up on why the 14-year old was gunned down in a drive-by, but certain assumptions can be made when you see desolation row across the street. It happens all too often, and it will never not hurt for the people who once lived there, and the people who live there now.

I got back in my car and sadly, slowly drove up the street, seeing both the past and the present. And then why this death was bothering me so finally hit me: A young life was violently stamped out and he was the symbol of the present state of this block. He has no future. Does Meadowlark?

UPDATE
Follow-up information about the shooting.

North County MCM: Independent Congregational Church

Old Halls Ferry & Redman Roads
North St. Louis County, MO

The abstract modern mountain peaks that make up the roof of this church are an iconic North County sight.  Those of us who grew up in the Black Jack/Florissant area thought of them as a normal part of the landscape that became especially cool during the Christmas season.  That’s when the peaks were alternately colored red and green by flood lights, and for a few summers, they even did red, white and blue for the 4th of July.  If anyone has photos of that 1970s-80s holiday phenomenon, please please pass me a copy.

So, this was a normal part of the suburban landscape of North St. Louis County, Missouri, and I never thought of them as special until I saw this photo by Ken Konchel in 2000.  It took the eyes of a superb architectural photographer to make me see just how special that roof was, and how unique the entire building was, in general.

I’ve heard firsthand how many of us St. Louisans have had the same kind of awakening about The Arch; it’s always been there, yeah of course it’s cool, but then one day you see it in a detached, abstract manner and you realize what a glorious and unusual beauty it is.  And so it was for me with the Independent Congregational Church.

The church began in 1856 in near North St. Louis, moving to the west side of Fairgrounds Park in 1917 and then moving to the ‘burbs in 1959 to this building by architect Walter Manske.  The building blissfully retains most all (more on that in a minute) of its original pieces…

…like these slanting rectangle hand rails leading from the lower level parking lot on the south side of the building.

This is the 2-story rear of the building, as seen from the south parking lot.  Upstairs is a small chapel and administrative offices with stained glass fenestration.  Below are light-filled classrooms and a small auditorium.

It was in the summer of 2006 that I went inside the building for the first time.  See more photos of that excursion here.  Once inside, the magnificence of the roof turned into awe over how the exterior structure dictated the interior.

The holy, blinding white of the serrated exterior peaks transform into a wooden plank lining of unvarnished red wood, which lends this massive vertical space a reverent hush.  The cables suspending the metal can lights are a reverse echo of the triangles reaching toward the heavens.  The sheer, upward lift of the space truly does inspire one to think lofty, spiritual thoughts, which is the point of ecclesiastical architecture.

I have always been intrigued at how willing American religious parishes have always been to embrace the latest architectural styles and concepts.  The other-worldy goals of religious enlightenment must make them more responsive to grand architectural gestures, and I’ve always loved how the spare lines and expansive geometry of modern architecture – rather than feeling alien to them – gave them a whole new vocabulary of expression.  Quite often, it was a church that introduced modernism to a fledgling mid-century suburban community, setting a tone for the commercial and residential buildings around it.  God bless ‘em!

Blonde, Danish modern fixtures are carried throughout the lobby and auditorium of the church. The angles of this podium on the alter are gravity-defying and maddeningly cool.

Here is a configuration of pews behind the main alter. To have those filled with white robes must be a breathtaking sight.

In the lobby, above the original metal coat and hat racks, remains a pictorial history of parishioners (and their sports trophies). Above we see what looks the folks from the 1930s-40s, and below…

…we come to the end of the picture-taking line, somewhere in the 1990s.  The pictures go from lily white to a mix of black and white folks, and it neatly tells the story of this church from inception to name change in 1998, when it became Christ The King Church.

From its various locations to the changing flesh tones of the photos, one gets the distinct impression that this parish may have followed the St. Louis pattern of White Flight.  My mother and I moved into Black Jack at the point in time when race became an issue for this community.  But it was also the town where I first lived, played and went to school with non-white kids, and it did much to debunk the myths of prejudice I heard all around me.  The current congregation is African-American, and pastor Andre D’Arden is the gentleman who let us roam freely through a building they are rightly proud to be in.

I love that they have not changed much of the building, proving that a beautiful setting – no matter the vintage – allows the users to carry on their business with a sense of higher purpose.

But there are some troubling aspects with the upkeep of this building.  Above is a photo from 2003 documenting the last of the globe lightstands in the upper north parking lot. As can be seen from this shot, people were taking pot shots at the glass.

The globe lightstands traded off with these “U.F.O. hat” lightstands.  in 2009, all of them have finally bitten the dust, as well.

And then there’s that roof.  During the time I lived in the area, it was always a blinding white, and I assumed it was made of cast concrete.  By 2006, normal wear and tear revealed circular plugs in the roof.  Simply placing a hand on the portion of the roof that swoops down to the sidewalk revealed it’s not concrete, but a textured, rubber membrane. And a rubber membrane in great need of a new coat of paint.

In the summer of 2006, I asked Pastor D’Arden about this. He noted the extensive construction work then going on to widen Old Halls Ferry Road, and that all of the dust and debris had really done a job on the roof.  It wasn’t a good idea to tackle a re-paint of the roof until the construction was done, and that made complete sense.

Contrast the above photo from May 2009 with the first photo of this entry (from 2003), and you can see the onset of a deterioration that placed this church on the St. Louis County list of Mid-Century Modern Architecture Worthy of Preservation.

I can understand the garagantuan expense of materials and labor to prep and paint that roof being a deterrant. If you have limited funds, people would come before building. But maybe a special fundraiser and some volunteer painters? If they were to undertake such a project, I’d certainly donate money and would be first in line for a chance to scale that roof!

See more photos of the exterior and interior of this church here.

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Dellwood MCM: One Perfect Moment

New Halls Ferry Road & 270
Dellwood, MO

I took this photo in the town of Dellwood in North St. Louis County in the early fall of 2003.  As a kid, I mentally referred to it as The Flying Building.  I chanced upon it right as they turned on the lights, which made it look even more so like it was launching into flight.

It was a quick moment, and I made mental note to come back and further explore this building with a camera. Upon returning for that purpose, it was clear the moment had passed. They had knocked down the original Buick sign and junked it up with a bunch more vinyl banners. But at least they haven’t torn down the building.

Yep, I probably just jinxed it.

Jennings Bank: In Plain Sight

Jennings Station Road and Lewis & Clark Blvd.
Jennings, MO

Built in 1967, this building has always been a bank.  It is located in a nebulous part of North St. Louis County, where you move a block it’s Jennings, move a few blocks over it’s Bellefontaine Neighbors, though a bit of Moline Acres sneaks into a crack.  The bank that now occupies the building uses Jennings as their mailing address, so Jennings it is.

My paternal grandmother lived a few blocks away from here (with a Bellefontaine Neighbors mailing address), so I grew up with this bank as a normal part of daily life.  Back in the day, the concrete roof and columns were bright white, but the new beige does not diminish the dramatic tension of a delicate band of clerestory trapped between heavy concrete and solid brick.  Though the vertical blinds in the glass wall bump out do slightly mar the sense of floating.

But drive by at night to get a better sense of light vs. heavy.  Do you notice something odd between night and day?

At night, the virile and industrial bank vault is left exposed, but during the day, those vertical blinds keep it hidden.  Back in the day, it was always exposed.  If anyone knows why the current inhabitants keep this curious blind parting schedule, please do share.