Above is a photograph by Abelardo Morell. It is from his Camera Obscura collection.

I was clued into his dramatic and compelling work while reading the current issue of dwell on New Year’s Day. dwell is featuring his Camera Obscura work, reprinting his impressions of:
New York City
Venice, Italy
Jackson Hole, WY
Boston, MA
And St. Louis.
And with each city, he picks the most well-known, iconic architecture.
And in St. Louis, we no longer have one of our iconic structures; a structure that overtly referenced our other iconic structure.

Yes, this is pretty much the beating of a dead horse. But I was so struck by seeing this photo on New Years Day… and has me thinking about a New Year’s Resolution for St. Louis.

For 2007, I wish, hope & pray that those who directly change the landscape of our city will be smarter, more intuitive and more thoughtful about what they destroy and what they put in its place. And these 3 things that I ask of those with that kind of power starts within themselves and radiates out to the communities that they, too, are a part of.

Happy New Year!

The St. Louis Post-Dispatch tells of a new subdivision coming to South St. Louis city.

I’ve long been fascinated with this gigantic plot of land plop in the middle of a sleepy neighborhood. This whole area of town is rather off the radar, as it’s a bit on the newer side as far as city neighborhoods go; lots of 1950s tract and ranch homes that stopped short of crossing the county/city line. Then there was this bucolic oasis in the middle of it all (above).

The above photos were taken in April 2005, because just as they started messing around Grand & Loughborough to make a Lowesville, buildings in this fenced in “city park” started slowly disappearing.

By December 2005 (above) only a few of the buildings in the small village remained.

Seems many people know this place was a nursery that served city public schools. Seems people also knew about the first proposal of what to do with this large tract of land. I wasn’t one of them. I never did any research; guess I preferred the mystery over facts coming to an end. And luckily, that plan was nixed.

I’m going to miss my private park. I always enjoyed pedaling around this compound because it felt so Leave It To Beaver, so civic, so optimistic. Greenhouses, smoke stacks and round-roof metal buildings tend to make me feel that way.

The view along Field Street (the eastern boundary of the property, above) was especially nice. Even though long abandoned, you could still see the stone paths and concrete benches, and the remnants of what had been rather elaborate and loving landscaping.

So, when reading the news of Rowles Homes inserting a new subdivision onto this land, my first thought was, “Please leave the mature trees. Please leave the miniature park.”

On the company website, they don’t yet have drawings of the homes that will grace the area. You can look at their Gaslight Square offerings and get a close idea of what they’ll offer: brick equals city appropriate; city equals vertical rather than horizontal. These models are far from compelling, yet they are not overtly offensive.

They offer a site plan drawing of what the subdivision will look like, but since they didn’t bother to include any identifying street names, I did that for you (above). I sure hope those north & south streets adhere to the street grid already in place. Kind of looks like it in the drawing, but by excluding the context of the neighborhood it’s moving into, can’t be certain.

From what I’ve read and (barely) seen, I’m down with this plan. Yes, it leaves a lot to be desired, but getting what we desire seldom happens. When thoughtless crap is what gets developed in this general area, a plan that appears to be causing no harm is an acceptable solution. Right now, I remain cautiously optimistic as I watch it with a jaundiced eye.

It’s too easy to get sarcastic and nit-picky at Christmas time. There is no sport in shooting fish in barrels or lobbing darts at NASCAR Santa…

And it’s useless to let the continued proliferation of Inflatables get me down.

Spending well over $500 to cram 5 large objects onto a lawn the size of a bread box may actually be less harmful then spending that much on Christmas toys for one child.

Yes, it’s too easy to bag on Christmas, and fighting it brings you no victory. Or to paraphrase a character on The Wire: We try to duck a punch or two rather than lean into every last one. Rather than sulking about it like a 13-year old goth girl hibernating in her bedroom, I’ve learned that making an effort and stepping up to embrace the holiday is much more rewarding than fighting it.

St. Louis Hills has become the Must See Christmas Lights destination, with Candy Cane Lane (above) being the center point. Just behind Ted Drewes, Murdoch Avenue has perfected how to take advantage of old fashioned urban density to create a holiday city within a block. There is music and movement, and on weekends, the residents of the block come out to play Welcome Wagon to the steady line of cars floating through. They roast treats over an open fire, pass out candy canes and…

…dance the hoochie koochie! Light Suit Man (above) graces Candy Cane Lane every weekend in December, and because of his unflagging goodwill and genuine joy, I consider him the Ambassador of It’s Christmas Time in the City.

But right before entering the CCL, a glance to the south, across the schoolyard fence, reveals another festive block, Neosho Avenue.

While certainly attracted to the bodacious charms (and free candy) of The CCL, I prefer this block for both its quiet magic and its “less is more” aesthetic. There aren’t a lot of bells and whistles here (the Inflatables content is rather low), just a lot of lights artfully placed. One of the more striking homes is the one above; by opting for subdued, darker lights they become the comma in a sentence.

My very favorite Neosho home is above. I swear an art director must live in this house, because the toned-down, fine-tuned attention to the placement, palette and mood of the lights just reeks of a Metropolitan Home layout. If this block had their own Light Suit Man, he’d stand in front of this house in an Armani suit with just a single key light on the mistletoe pinned to his lapel.

So, these are some of the things that have made my season bright. If you have a moment, venture over to St. Louis Hills, but as you travel, pay attention to the beauty all around you, and have yourself A Merry Little Christmas.

West Glendale & Brightside Place
Webster Groves, MO
In order to avoid the highway, I take a shortcut through a Webster Groves neighborhood, and run into this little gem. If not for the surviving winter greenery, this cubist stucco dandy could easily be mistaken as sitting among the desert lushness of Palm Springs.

I especially love the handling of the garage; how the mass of the door fits artfully into the ground floor fenestration scheme, and that the space above the garage has been turned into a spacious outdoor terrace. Neutra would approve.

Sure would like to know the name of the architect that designed this home.

County records show this 1,727 s.f. house was built in 1946, with a remodel in 1950 and additions in 1960. The houses that surround it are the typical mixed bag of goodies one pictures when thinking of Webster Groves homes, which is why it sticks out from the crowd. But it also blends beautifully with the neighborhood and its greenery, because it was designed with context and scale in mind. And that’s all that’s required of any architecture, whatever the style.

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Webster Groves, Wood & Plastic

North Lindbergh @ Midland Blvd.
Maryland Heights, MO
It’s a sign made from vinyl, press-on lettering, and the letters are warping due to light and weather conditions. That’s faulty work, and the Sign Maker should be made to re-do it or return the money.

I drive one mile north up Lindbergh, and see another malfunctioning vinyl letter sign. Did these businesses have their signs done by the same shop? And they can’t get this problem resolved because the shop is out of business?

Not even 15 minutes later, 2 miles east of the 2nd sign, and here is the faultiest sign of all. This one is so shoddy that the letters appear to be melting…

I imagine a door-to-door Vinyl Letter Salesman convincing each business that keeping up with The Joneses was “all about virtually maintenance-free vinyl!” Or, to vinyl letters, this part of town is the Bermuda Triangle of unfortunate atmospheric conditions.
No matter the explanation, it is slightly creepy.

South Side, St. Louis, MO

In the wee early hours of the Monday-Friday morning, I leave my backyard and walk several steps to get the paper at the above vending machine. 80% of the time, I have mail to post, as well. So, it’s a 2-bird-1 stone deal.

But sometimes I forget (it is awfully early) to do these chores in my backyard, but never fear. There are plenty of opportunities to take care of business between home and work.

I work in downtown Kirkwood, which is a great place as it’s laid out in the traditional urban grid, with residential and business intermingling. And Kirkwood is just as accommodating with plentiful newspaper boxes as is the city. But Kirkwood has a strange aversion to mailboxes; there’s only one every mile. This is odd, because Kirkwoodians carry on much like South Siders, yet their mail drop opps are severely limited. At least they have newspaper boxes; once you cross the city lines, both mail and news boxes drop off in number. Just start casually paying attention as you drive around, and you’ll see what I’ve noticed.

In the city, there is a newspaper machine every other block, and every 3rd block is a mail box. But I prefer to be expedient and drop mail and get the news in one location. Unlike lovely Kirkwood, there are plenty of these opportunities in South St. Louis. Sometimes they are on opposite corners of an intersection, above.

Or sometimes they are on opposite sides of the sidewalk on the same corner, above.

But the ultimate is when they are right next to each other (above). Drop a letter in the blue box, drop coins in the yellow box, pull the paper, and on my way. It’s a satisfying sense of efficiency, and, in the end, it’s the simple things in life that seem to matter most.

A third title has just been added to my tiny Blogging Empire.

Song Line

The title comes from a Tim Finn song about musical heritage, and is my chronological musical memoir. If you know the songs, and know (something) about the time periods covered, then there’s something to be had from it, even if you don’t know me.

It’s not about the built environment, just the environment I live in. Architecture and music are my religions, so it was time to pray to the musical gods.

Lindenwood Drug
Lansdowne & Jamieson, South St. Louis, MO

While aging, I’m learning to just float down the river of life. Rather than doing a lot of rowing, I prefer seeing where the current takes me. But there’s one thing I can never “get Tao” with: fall & winter.

The cold frightens me, and at the first hint of chill in the air (anything under 60 degrees), I freak out and drag out the electric blanket. I can be accepting of traffic jams, but I can’t accept the changing season? Like my moaning will change Mother Nature’s plan? I’ve picked the silliest topic to get upset about.

But I did manage to find some beauty in the drudgery of driving to work in the dark before Daylight Savings kicks in. Home lights glowing warm under cold navy blue skies is a comforting sight, and then there’s the cinematic sight of Lindenwood Drug at rest.

White lights, white door, gigantic globes of white mums shining out of the black. I’ve begun looking forward to seeing this site, a beacon in the dark. I chose this particular morning – our coldest one so far – to make peace with the cold and hop out of the warm car to capture this scene. I was so entranced to finally stand in the scene that I didn’t even feel the chill.

Home Near Fyler & Jamieson
Each morning, I also enjoy the sight of this basement side door illuminated by one light bulb. Not exactly sure why; it must be triggering a subconscious sentimental memory. Since I’d willingly plunged into the cold several blocks back, might as well capture this one, too. So I did.

St. Louis Centre
Downtown St. Louis, MO

Architects for the reconfiguration of St. Louis Centre have been picked, along with a name change to 600 Washington. A rendering of the new facade is above (courtesy of the St. Louis Business Journal), and I like it. Anything would be an improvement to a building that was hideous and outdated on opening day in 1985. I appreciate the lower level retail being open to the street, and I like the thoroughly, unabashedly modern look of it.

It’s also a bugle call for what I think is sorely missing from the Downtown Renaissance: brand new, modern buildings.

It is criminal and inexcusable to tear down historically worthy buildings, and both the marketplace and public knowledge has progressed so far as to make that concept nearly past tense. I’m proud that St. Louis finally gets it, and embraces the financial and cultural benefits of restoring and reusing our urban past.

In the early 1990s, I was so fearful of how dead and dying downtown was that I began photographically documenting most all of the historic buildings between Memorial Drive and 14th Street. I’d rummage through the vacant ones that revealed a secret way in, and kept track of the ones under contention for destruction.

Then a rare miracle was granted by Jefferson City: They resumed the historic tax credits! I closely watched the press and the construction crews as, one by one, long-ignored buildings were coaxed back to life. And even though there was discernible progress, I still worried about some of my very favorites:

The Board of Education Building was near the path of the Century/parking garage debacle, but the Roberts Brothers have it under control.

The Mallinckrodt Building stood forlornly overlooked while the Lenox and the Statler were restored to prosperous activity. Were they going to also tear it down for even more parking? But Pyramid has it under control, and I’m both relieved and delighted.

Now that rehab activity is rapidly spreading to “Downtown West” (the modern term for everything west of 14th street), I no longer feel the need to worry about Downtown’s stock of historic buildings. Instead, the Big Picture view of the Downtown Renaissance shows a lack of brand new construction, which is a positive sign of a financial confidence.

Again, I’m not advocating the tearing down of any existing buildings. If you tour Downtown West, block by block, you’ll see plenty of vacant land memorializing what was already torn down during that last, fetid blast of Civic Progress in the 1980s. And those plots – usually half a block large – are crying out for vital re-use.

But to build something new that does a piss-poor job of aping its surviving neighbors would be an embarrassing and unworthy endeavor. It’s time to come up with thoughtfully modern and fresh, multi-story buildings – both residential and commercial – that will fit in with the scope and scale of its neighbors, but also herald a new plateau of downtown progress.

Earlier this year, I talked with a developer who has this same thought. The project – and its location – is being kept under wraps for many reasons, including that it will most likely be viewed as unacceptably radical to introduce a proudly modern high-rise residential building into the area. When was the last time Downtown St. Louis was receptive to that idea? Maybe the Mansion House in the 1960s?

Mid Town embraced new, modern architecture for that area (the Pulitzer and the Contemporary Art Museum), and the global architecture/design communities gave it more glowing press than did our hometown. I’m all for seeing a truly talented and site-sensitive global architect doing something similar on already vacant land in Downtown proper. I’d expect the planning and supervision of such projects to be just as strict and thoughtful as the Historic Tax Credit regulations. And I’d expect residential consumer response to be just as receptive to a new building as it is to the restored ones.

There’s room – and a need – to liven up the colors in the patchwork quilt of downtown. If the reconfiguration of St. Louis Centre works as well as expected, then we all might be more receptive to a new era of the old and new co-existing peacefully. I remain hopeful for the future of Downtown.

347 Ries Bend Road
Ballwin, MO
On the very same day that the St. Louis Post-Dispatch put the topic of Suburban Teardowns on the top half of the front page, I ran across this unassuming little house in Ballwin (above).

It’s a cute little house, well-maintained and added to over the years. A satisfying home life is evident all over the house and property, and makes me nostalgic for a history I know nothing about. There’s really nothing terribly compelling about it to advocate saving it; moot point, anyhow. It just happened to be a perfect example of why the Teardown topic finally even made it onto the front page of the P-D.

Public records from the county* inform that the house was built in 1952, 1,254 square feet on slab. It may well have been one of the original new houses built in this area, as the remaining original houses neighboring it lean towards mid-60s ranch style.

Lucille Fink sold the house and land in August 2005 to an unspecified buyer. The sign out front informs that Belcher Homes plans to build 5 new homes on this plot. They were supposed to start this past spring, but obviously they didn’t, and neither Belcher nor the real estate agent listed offer any further information about the proposed development.

This plot is like high-potency catnip to home builders because it’s huge. A shot of the backyard (above) only captures a tiny piece of the vastness of the property. The buyer only has to contend with one homeowner/seller in a desirable location, and can then cram 5 new homes onto the parcel. From their perspective, it’s a sweet, sweet deal, and I’m shocked that they haven’t begun any serious work on it other than marking trees to be cut down. Would the home building bubble leaking be a reason for the delay?

Across the nation, Teardown conversation is building to a constant hum. Even in St. Louis County, landlocked, tax-dependent municipal governments have been spurred to address the topic during 2006. That is a valid indicator that it goes beyond the trauma of bleeding heart preservation advocates; the Average Joe Homeowner in these neighborhoods had to make an effort to introduce the topic to their City Hall, and City Hall had to respond.

Webster Groves is the latest municipality to address the topic, and they’re doing so in a conscientious manner. Of great interest is the logically brilliant idea presented by Jeanne Kirkton, who “suggested the possibility of sending a questionnaire to neighborhood residents. She said regulations should not stifle creativity but should maintain neighborhood integrity.”
Yesss!

Money talks, but so do the neighbors.
It’s an interesting struggle between City Halls’ needing the extra tax dollars that in-fill home builders’ can deliver vs. the area residents who vote for the folks in City Hall. Financial clout usually wins, but there’s been enough of a grassroots slapback to slow down the process.

Oddly enough, aesthetic considerations are only one part of the civic conversations; environmental impact, unrealistic property tax increases and destroying the stock of affordable housing are just as important to neighbors. Sure, the entire point is moot if individuals keep “selling out,” but these conversations conjure some form of conscious upon those now contemplating selling to the developers, and may conjure some form of moderation upon those wanting to cram inappropriately large house into the spot. By paying attention to Boomer Aging and the momentum of the energy crises, the safety net under obscenely large houses has a nasty tear in it. Responsibility to the environment may be forced upon as via pocketbook considerations. These are the right talks to be having at the right time; I feel less helpless about the situation, both locally and nationally.

Anyway, back to Ries Bend…
Next door to the unassuming Fink House is a new street with houses built in the late 1990s (above). As go McMansions, these are much nicer than most models. They have a bit more character, as if aspiring to be worthy of a Norman Rockwell painting. Considering the soullessness of so many developments, “Norman Rockwell” really is a compliment. Maybe something similar will eventually fill in the open land of the Fink Lot.

At the entrance to this street is a Disneyfied version of a carriage house, complete with an actual carriage. I’ve noticed this same motif at the entrance of several new neighborhoods in this general area. Is this the “logo” of a particular builder, or Ballwin City Halls’ requested nod to the heritage of the area?

About 200 yards from this tasteful theme park entrance, an old, rusted 1940s pickup truck rests just off the Fink’s carport (below). It speaks more accurately of this area’s 20th century history, but abandoned pickups don’t sell new housing developments as well as bucolic allusions of equestrian gentry. The added irony of the horse carriage is that the Fink’s could have housed about 5 horses in their backyard, but eventually it will hold 5 houses.

*Because of threatened legal action, I was forced to remove an entry about a Sunset Hills teardown property. Once the hint of danger to peoples’ livelihoods has passed, the rights and legalities of the subject will be researched so as to be better prepared should it happen again. And it probably will. Lots of people are making lots of money on properties marketed solely as teardowns, and anything that seems a stick jammed in their bike spokes is perceived as a threat. But it’s a free market with plenty of access to public information, and that works both ways. So, the topic (and the entry) is not dead, just resting and gathering strength.