A White Flight Tour Up West Florissant Ave. to #Ferguson and North St. Louis County

Roughly an 8 mile stretch of avenue illustrates a chapter of St. Louis history from urban to suburban, from white to black.

Roughly an 8 mile stretch of avenue illustrates a chapter of St. Louis history from urban to suburban, from white to black.

St. Louis is a racist town. Historically and culturally, it is a part of our heritage. Our built environment provides visual proof of this racism. The only thing surprising about the resentful segregation that has boiled over and blown up in Ferguson, Missouri in August 2014 is that it took this long to do so.

west florissant avenue photo by toby weiss

Leave Hwy 70 at West Florissant to head north, and there’s 4-family flats like this, from 1926, overlooking Bellefontaine Cemetery. This stretch of road within the St. Louis City limits had gas streetlights until 1942, when the switch was made to electric.

The Ferguson police killing of Michael Brown is inexcusable and heartbreaking. This piece is inspired by my sorrow over Michael Brown’s tragic fate, and the intense feelings conjured while watching the aftermath unfold on the familiar streets of what was once my home and to those it belongs to now.

historic west Florissant avenue photo by toby weiss

Leading to the North Kingshighway intersection is a row of new in-fill housing built in 2005 next to a remaining 2-family flat built in 1900.

Because it’s what I do, half this piece deals with the topic through photos of our buildings. This architecture tells the story of St. Louis’ northern expansion from urban to suburban, from white to black. It illustrates St. Louis’ White Flight as it traveled north up West Florissant from Highway 70 to New Halls Ferry, with a stop in Ferguson. Sharing our story through buildings is the best way I know how to process all the disturbing feelings I can’t shake in the wake of Michael Brown’s violent and unfair departure.

west florissant and geraldine photo by toby weiss

At Geraldine Avenue, which is the dividing line between Bellefontaine and Calvary (where Dred Scott is buried) Cemetery is this commercial/residential building from 1909. In 1921 it housed a Kroger’s Market and Shields Florist (who remained until 1963).

A WHITE LADY’S CREDENTIALS
I have spent a decade plus documenting the St. Louis built environment in photos and words through this blog. I am a North County (NoCo) native, born and raised in
Jennings – 14 Yr. Old Boy Murdered on Meadowlark
Ferguson – Personal Architecture: 509 Teston in Ferguson, MO
Black Jack – Tear Down Jamestown Mall
before landing in South St. Louis City in 1993.

photo by Toby Weiss At the Union Blvd. intersection is a mixed-use building erected in 1911. It originally housed a drug store and barber, among several other businesses.

At the Union Blvd. intersection is a mixed-use building erected in 1911. It originally housed a drug store and barber, among several other businesses.

Over half of my posts about NoCo brings up St. Louis’ history of White Flight, gently touching on our racism because it’s unavoidable. But it needs to stop being treated as a poorly hidden secret. I no longer wish to be politely genteel about how our racism is determined to destroy North St. Louis County the same way it did North St. Louis City.

photo by Toby Weiss A glance up Arlington Avenue, with homes built from 1922 - 1923. These homes have looked essentially the same and well-maintained as when I first noticed how lovely they were in the 1980s.

A glance up Arlington Avenue, with homes built from 1922 – 1923. These homes have looked essentially the same and well-maintained as when I first noticed how lovely they were in the 1980s.

My immediate and extended family is a classic example of North Siders following the trail up West Florissant to North County, and eventually leaving it completely when it got “too Black.” My family is just a few of the hundreds of thousands of other NoCo Whites who have done exactly the same. I’ve seen why and how it plays it out.

photo by Toby Weiss Between Thrush & Plover Avenues, and across from Calvary Cemetery, are single- and multi-family residences built from 1908 - 1924, capped off by an in-fill apartment building from the mid-1960s.

Between Thrush & Plover Avenues, and across from Calvary Cemetery, are single- and multi-family residences built from 1908 – 1924, capped off by an in-fill apartment building from the mid-1960s.

I love and explore all of St. Louis and spend a lot of time in North County, documenting its history as told through buildings and places. I manufacture any excuse to visit and hang out because I genuinely love North County more today than when I lived there. It feels good; it feels like home, because it is.

photo by Toby Weiss 5760 West Florissant is the Walnut Park branch of the St. Louis public library. The original building moved here in 1971, and was remodeled in the early 2000s.

5760 West Florissant is the Walnut Park branch of the St. Louis public library. The original building moved here in 1971, and was remodeled in the early 2000s.

But where I differ from so many of my White brethren is that I do not resent the Black majority that are now the rightful citizens of NoCo. It is their home the same as it was once mine. They live, love and work there the same as we once did, but with one glaring exception: they have to deal with and work around the systemic and lingering resentment of Whites who willingly fled the area because of them. And that’s a White Problem the NoCo Blacks have had to deal with… until they just couldn’t anymore.

photo by Toby Weiss | This building at 5776 West Florissant was erected in 1927, and from 1930 to 1971 was the Walnut Park library. It was also the home of Fischer & Sons Cleaners, and as an old, painted over sign in the window once revealed, the Wilson Cab Co.

This building at 5776 West Florissant was erected in 1927. Right-side storefront was the Walnut Park branch of the St. Louis public library from 1930-1971. Left side was once Fischer & Sons Cleaners, and as an old, painted over sign in the window once revealed, the Wilson Cab Co.  The in-fill apartment buildings to the right are from 1964.

CREATING ST. LOUIS RACISM

St. Louis has always been a schizophrenic city. It’s the last of the old Eastern cities, and the Gateway to the younger West. That informs its Conservative vs. Progressive spirit. The Civil War Mason-Dixon Line ran right through it, and it’s been a struggle of North vs. South mentality ever since.

The national dominance that the City of St. Louis experienced from post-Civil War to post-Korean War was partially based on the population increase of Blacks from the South. And while it was, by constitutional law, safe for Blacks to come here, powerful White factions have always made sure the new arrivals were segregated into the City’s North Side.

photo by Toby Weiss | A 2-story home built in 1900 must have stood by itself for a decade or so, as the homes next to it are younger. City records shwo this to be saved from the Land Redevelopment Authority in 1998. Excellent!

A 2-story home built in 1900 must have stood by itself for a decade or so, as the homes next to it are younger. City records show this to be saved from the Land Redevelopment Authority in 1998. Excellent!

While White St. Louis has enthusiastically embraced Black St. Louis culture – from music (milestone home of jazz, ragtime, blues and rock & roll) to food (BBQ and soul food are indigenous cuisine) – they made sure Blacks lived in a contained manner.

Before and after the Civil Rights movement, the real estate Red Lining of the 20th century (expertly detailed in the book Mapping Decline) remains a troubling problem barely disguised as predatory lending in the 21st century. While every race and income level has been injured by the housing bubble burst of 2008, in St. Louis the massive foreclosures are most dramatic in the predominantly Black towns of North St. Louis County. It’s Red Lining re-branded for the 21st century.

photo by Toby Weiss | Angelo Lombardo opened a fruit stand at the corner of West Florissant and Riverview in 1934. In 1965 they erected this building as Lombardo's Restaurant. They moved out to the airport in 1993, and this place has been a series of restaurants a banquet hall and church.

Angelo Lombardo opened a fruit stand at the corner of West Florissant and Riverview in 1934.  Pavement ended at this intersection, turning into a 2-lane gravel road that wasn’t paved until 1940ish. In 1965 the Lombardo family erected this building as Lombardo’s Restaurant. They moved out to the airport in 1993, and this place has since been a series of restaurants, a banquet hall and church.

A vintage matchbook from Lombardo's Restaurant in the late 1960s.

A vintage matchbook from Lombardo’s Restaurant in the late 1960s.

CREATING NORTH COUNTY

After World War 2, the Baby Boom created a need for more housing for everyone. With the help of President Eisenhower’s new highways and G.I. loans, people left St. Louis City in all directions for the largely rural County. To the North, West Florissant Avenue became a main corridor to fresh new homes and schools, so commerce built up along it to serve the fast influx of new residents.

Photo by Toby Weiss | Continuing north, the blocks from Hiller to Pamplin Places are retail and religious buildings ranging from 1935 to 1962. Across the street remains multi-family residential built from the 1920-40s.

Continuing north, the blocks from Hiller to Pamplin Places are retail and religious buildings ranging from 1935 to 1962. Across the street remains multi-family residential built from the 1920-40s.

St. Louis families of all races and income levels can trace their rising fortunes by how they leap frogged from one municipality to the next, ever-further away from the City lines. The huge exodus from the City over a 20 year span left the City to rot. This fact earned its own chapter in the 1999 book The Old Neighborhood: What We Lost in the Great Suburban Migration 1966-1999 by Ray Suarez.

Photo by Toby Weiss | At Era Avenue, this is the last bit of residential buildings until just after Goodfellow Blvd. The 2 homes on the left are from 1924, on the right was built 1941.

At Era Avenue, this is the last bit of residential buildings until just after Goodfellow Blvd. The 2 homes on the left are from 1924, on the right was built 1941.

Because the City’s North Side had historically (and uneasily) accepted more Blacks, the migration to North County had more of a salt and pepper flavor than to the west or south. In private, North Side Whites acknowledged the additional motivation of leaving City blocks that got one more black family than they were comfortable living with. And that mentality remained as Whites and Blacks wrote the living history of North St. Louis County in the last half of the 20th century.

At the Goodfellow Blvd. intersection, this building went up in 1928 with retail at street level, doctors and dentists on the 2nd floor. 6324 is the most famous address, starting as the Community Hall in 1930, becoming the Imperial Ballroom in the 1940s & 50s. In the 1960s is when it became the legendary rock and r&b venue, Club Imperial.

At the Goodfellow Blvd. intersection, this building went up in 1928 with retail at street level, doctors and dentists on the 2nd floor. 6324 is the most famous address, starting as the Community Hall in 1930, becoming the Imperial Ballroom in the 1940s & 50s. In the 1960s is when it became the legendary rock and r&b venue, Club Imperial.

Photo by Toby Weiss | Club Imperial Pleasantly surprising that this old building at a major intersection remains relatively unchanged, and still host to an ever-revolving series of business. This photo is from 2003.

Pleasantly surprising that this old building at a major intersection remains relatively unchanged, and still host to an ever-revolving series of business. This photo is from 2003. The border of St. Louis City/County is one block up, at Acme Avenue.

NOT LIKING WHAT WE SEE IN THE MIRROR

St. Louis County is a star pupil in the Suburbanization of Poverty. Here are some informative pieces with great historical reporting that detail how Ferguson got to this point:

In Ferguson, Black Town White Power

The County Map That Explains Ferguson’s Tragic Discord

Photo by Toby Weiss | Now we're in North St. Louis County, and it gets crazy with a patchwork quilt of tiny towns. The house is from 1911, when it was a gravel road in unincorporated St. Louis County. The 2-story McDonough building (developed by a realtor who had his offices under the steel lettering) went up in 1955 in what had become Jennings, MO in 1947.

Now we’re in North St. Louis County, and it gets crazy with a patchwork quilt of tiny towns. The house is from 1911, when it was a gravel road in unincorporated St. Louis County. The 2-story McDonough building (developed by a realtor who had his offices under the steel lettering) went up in 1955 in what had become Jennings, MO in 1947.  The venerable Knoedel’s Bakery remains across the street at 6715 West Florissant, in its 1953 building.

St. Louis is an old industrial city that carried its archaic North vs. South mentality to the new suburbs, clinging to a stark segregation in North County. In the wake of Michael Brown’s death, we are bickering amongst ourselves about how racist we are or aren’t while the global community has learned exactly how racist we are and shakes its head in disbelief.

photo by Toby Weiss | With Jennings booming in the first half of the 1950s, new retail buildings were squeezed between those from the 1920s, like this strip between Helen & Janet Avenues.

With Jennings booming in the first half of the 1950s, new retail buildings were squeezed between those from the 1920s, like this commercial strip between Helen & Janet Avenues.

National reporters puzzled over the statistics and anecdotes about how oblivious a large percentage of St. Louis Whites are about our race problems. Veteran reporter Charles Jaco got to the heart of it in two Twitter posts on August 18, 2014:

“Despite the global focus, most white people in St. Louis this is just Ferguson, willfully blind to race and class issues that cause seething anger. In 19 yrs, discovered white people in StL are kind, considerate and oblivious to racial issues. Like StL BBQ sauce, they’re sweet but thick.”

Photo by Toby Weiss | From Jennings Station Road to College Ave is mostly single-family homes on both sides of West Florissant built in the 1940s. This is the tiny town of Flordell Hills, incorporated in 1945. Even then, it had barely any commercial business to generate revenue. Commerce resumes right after College Ave., when it reverts back to Jennings, MO.

From Jennings Station Road to College Ave is mostly single-family homes like these on both sides of West Florissant, built in the 1940s. This is the tiny town of Flordell Hills, incorporated in 1945. Even then, it had barely any commercial business to generate revenue. Commerce resumes right after College Ave., when it reverts back to Jennings, MO.

Because we have a history of racially insulating our neighborhoods, it’s very easy for White St. Louisans to be completely unaware that Different Rules Apply.  Speaking only from my experiences, native White St. Louisans who are not instinctively racist tend to be those who have traveled and/or lived outside of the region and have experienced places where you can palpably feel the ABSENCE of racial tension. It’s always an eye opener. The lesson learned from it is that it’s easier to accept all people as they are rather than how you want them to be.

Photo by Toby Weiss | Near McLaren Avenue, at 7355 W. Florissant is the last remaining Velvet Freeze, which moved into the 1968 building in 1970. Next door had been a Steak n Shake from 1959 (it is now new credit union building).

Near McLaren Avenue, at 7355 W. Florissant is the last remaining Velvet Freeze, which moved into the 1968 building in 1970. Next door had been a Steak n Shake from 1959 (it is now new credit union building).

Photo by Toby Weiss | A week after Mike Brown's death by a Ferguson cop on August 9, 2014, the Velvet Freeze was boarded up. The paper sign read: "Stay Strong, God Is In Charge, We'll Be Back Soon."

A week after Mike Brown’s death by a Ferguson cop on August 9, 2014, the Velvet Freeze was boarded up. The paper sign read: “Stay Strong, God Is In Charge, We’ll Be Back Soon.”

There’s one trait that most every visitor notices about St. Louis (aside from how clean we are!): we are extremely nice people. We are inherently nice to each other, face to face, no matter the color or culture. But how we develop our towns, evolve our governments and speak in private conveys that White St. Louis has a long-standing problem with Black St. Louis.

This behavior grows more absurd as the world becomes more global and integrated via the internet and social medias that easily recognizes oppressive behavior even when we can’t see it ourselves. People around the globe quickly understood the gravity of #Ferguson and the importance of people standing up against abusive authority. The inequity was easy to understand outside of a large chunk of White St. Louis.

photo by Toby Weiss | Lefholz Hardware was at 7525 West Florissant, just past McClaran Avenue. Company established in 1944, this building is from the late 1950s. They closed shortly after this 2005 photo. It was immediately remodeled and opened as Nu Fashion Beauty. This is one of the few business revenue generators in the small town of Country Club Hills, staking a spot inside Jennings, MO.

Lefholz Hardware was at 7525 West Florissant, just past McClaran Avenue. Company established in 1944, this building is from the late 1950s. They closed shortly after this 2005 photo. It was immediately remodeled and opened as Nu Fashion Beauty. This is one of the few business revenue generators in the town of Country Club Hills, staking a small spot inside Jennings, MO.

RESENTMENT OF BLACK NORTH COUNTY

White Flight is well-documented American process, and a motivating factor in creating St. Louis County. For a lot of White St. Louis, it’s a part of the stories of why your family moved to such and such, and why we live where we do. We talk freely – or in code – about it amongst ourselves, and instinctively seem to know when to not talk about it. And that right there reveals that we do know better but can’t let go of deeply ingrained prejudice.s

photo by Toby Weiss | Across the street is the other strip of Country Club Hills commerce. The green house (from 1941) remains. Lam's Garden Chop Suey began life in 1975 as Church's Chicken. Demolished for a Walgreen's that opened in 2008.

Across the street is the other strip of Country Club Hills commerce. The green house (from 1941) remains. Lam’s Garden Chop Suey began life in 1975 as Church’s Chicken. Demolished for a Walgreen’s that opened in 2008.

Several generations of St. Louis Whites are vocally resentful of having to “give up” North St. Louis and North County to the Blacks. They reveal deep resentment with the language used to describe what has become of the places they left behind.

Part of the White resentment might be because NoCo is such an engaging area of Metro St. Louis. See the Cruizin’ North County books for reasons why it’s such a deeply loved place.  Leaving behind something you love is always bittersweet. If that feeling is coupled with a fear-based decision to move away, it can create contempt for those who took your place.

Northland Shopping Center opened in Jennings, MO August 1955, demolished November 2005. Read an extensive history of Northland.

Northland Shopping Center opened in Jennings, MO August 1955, demolished November 2005. Read an extensive history of Northland.

Do the White ex-pats want it back? Is that why there’s so much White anger toward NoCo Blacks? Because if you want it back, that might make some sense out of the blatant contempt for those who live there now. It doesn’t excuse it; it only provides a psychological understanding of the negative behavior.

1958 aerial map of West Florissant, north of Lucas & Hunt (click to enlarge). And there's NOTHING along what would become a thriving retail district. New homes were up, but Ferguson Avenue had yet to be plotted. Canfield Drive had only just begun. The first building in the spot that becomes QTs erected in 1965. A Pontiac dealership was the first major retail to follow in the shadow of Northland Shopping Center. That building remains as of today as 9020 W. Flor. By 1962, the empty spots were filling in rapidly.

1958 aerial map of West Florissant, north of Lucas & Hunt (click to enlarge). And there’s NOTHING along what would become a thriving retail district. New homes were up, but Ferguson Avenue had yet to be plotted. Canfield Drive had only just begun. The first building in the spot that becomes QTs was erected in 1965. A Pontiac dealership was the first major retail to follow in the shadow of Northland Shopping Center. That building remains as of today as 9020 W. Flor. By 1962, the empty spots were filling in rapidly.

NoCo remains a lovely place. This is what I strive to show on B.E.L.T. over the years (do a fast scroll through this category).

I’ve had countless conversations with former NoCo Whites who swear it’s all gone downhill and just looks bad. Granted, NoCo is an aging area; after 50+ years, everything gets raggedy around the edges. One of the reasons people originally fled St. Louis City is because it was old and worn out, and Urban Renewal bulldozed huge chunks of what they deemed irretrievable eyesores. It took new generations to see the beauty under the grime and exchange demolition for restoration. This is a natural evolution of cities, and renewal will eventually have to come to our Inner Ring suburbs. Just give it time.

Photo by Toby Weiss | In 1968, at 9131 West Florissant in Ferguson, MO was erected the McDonald's Systems Hamburgers chain. This 2008 photo shows the 3rd remodel from the original. The 4th version is the stone facade version seen by the world in the aftermath of Mike Brown's killing, also known as the place where journalists were arrested by Ferguson police.

In 1968, at 9131 West Florissant in Ferguson, MO came the McDonald’s Systems Hamburgers. 2 years later it would be the site of my very first deliberate lie so I could see Mary Poppins a 2nd time. This 2008 photo shows the 3rd remodel from the original. The 4th remodel is the stone facade version seen by the world in the aftermath of Mike Brown’s killing, also known as the place where journalists were arrested by Ferguson police.

Even when I get ex-NoCo whites to begrudgingly admit that their old neighborhood or house  still look pretty good, they genuinely believe the rest of it has gone to shit. I believe they’re looking at it through puce-colored glasses.

Even as I choose to see through rose-colored glasses, I’m not blind to how poverty has ravaged many North County municipalities. Look at the corpses of Kinloch or Wellston to see the ways racism works through legal and illegal channels to exact revenge on those it fears.

photo by Toby Weiss | A Jack-in-the-Box went in at 9240 West Florissant in 1970. Northland Chop Suey - one of the last holdouts at Northland Shopping Center, moved to this location in 2005 during its demolition.

A Jack-in-the-Box went in at 9240 West Florissant in 1970. Northland Chop Suey – one of the last holdouts at Northland Shopping Center, moved to this location in 2005 during its demolition.

photo by Toby Weiss | August 2014, Northland Chop Suey was hurt in the lootings after Mike Brown's shooting. But as with most of the shop owners in this block of West Florissant, they are staying put.

August 2014, Northland Chop Suey was hurt in the lootings after Mike Brown’s shooting. But as with most of the shop owners in this block of West Florissant, they are staying put.

As I’ve spent 10+ years photographing my NoCo homeland, looking at it through the detached lenses of architecture, remodeling, planning and sustainability, I think it’s beautiful. I see past glory, present strengths and future possibility.

photo by Toby Weiss | The 9100 block of West Florissant is made of a trio of these buildings, erected from 1967 - 1969. It is this 2-story building flanked by two matching 1-story buildings with storefronts facing W. Florissant and a row of store front on the sides. hey are distinctive for their white brick and lava rock vertical bands. In 1969 this building housed Big Daddy's Cocktail Lounge, the Razor's Edge barber shop on ground level; upstairs were small businesses like lawyers, graphic artists and a psychologist.

The 9100 block of West Florissant is made of a trio of buildings, erected from 1967 – 1969. It is this 2-story building flanked by two matching 1-story buildings with storefronts facing W. Florissant and a row of store fronts on the sides. They are distinctive for their blonde brick and lava rock vertical bands. In 1969 this building housed, among others, Big Daddy’s Cocktail Lounge, the Razor’s Edge barber shop on ground level; upstairs were small businesses like lawyers, graphic artists and a psychologist.

photo by Toby Weiss | Detail shot of the mod-tastic lobby of the 2-story lava rock building. In the aftermath of the lootings, this building was hit hard, but it was hopeful to note that this entrance remained intact and as sharp as ever.

Detail shot of the mod-tastic lobby of the 2-story lava rock building. In the aftermath of the lootings, this building was hit hard, but it was hopeful to note that this entrance remained intact and as sharp as ever.  My father installed the glass in these buildings and remembers the developer of the buildings as a young man who lived in Northwoods, and went bankrupt at the completion of the 3rd building. 

As I traipse around all of St. Louis with a camera, I’ve been told that police would be called if I didn’t leave, or stared at harshly through screen doors, or glared at with side eye. This is always – without exception – in White parts of town. They ask no questions, they show only anger and distrust toward a White stranger.

It was distressing and heartbreaking to see what transpired in front of these buildings during the protests and police actions. It is disturbing to see familiar surroundings as a backdrop of strife.

It was distressing and heartbreaking to see what transpired in front of these buildings during the protests and police actions. It is disturbing to see familiar surroundings as a backdrop of strife.

photo by Toby Weiss | It has been healing to watch the independent business owners in the lava rock buildings shake it off, carry on and build anew. This is Ferguson.

It has been healing to watch the independent business owners in the lava rock buildings shake it off, carry on and build anew. This is Ferguson.

photo by toby weiss | Less than 3 weeks from the killing of Michael Scott, HealSTL has been started in this lava rock storefront. St. Louis City alderman Antonio French and volunteers strive to teach leadership, register residents to vote and put Ferguson's majority into the civic and political process of their town.

Less than 3 weeks from the killing of Michael Brown, HealSTL has been started in this lava rock storefront. St. Louis City alderman Antonio French and volunteers strive to teach leadership, register residents to vote and put Ferguson’s majority into the civic and political process of their town.

Contrast that with when I go North. Someone will always walk up and ask what I’m doing – as anyone should, really – and I explain. I have countless conversations with Black residents about what and why I do. They get the sentimental angle if it’s where I’m from, and they are usually intrigued by the architectural angle: “So you like this building? Why?”

photo by toby weiss | When this stretch of road was still in Jennings, MO, this building went up in 1962 at Canfield Dr. The Canfield Apartments were constructed in 1970. It was Village Inn Pancake House until 1974 when it became Jason's Pancake House. This 2009 photo shows that subsequent owners put an ostensibly festive canopy over the mid-century modern roof overhang.

When this stretch of road was still in Jennings, MO, this building went up in 1962 at Canfield Dr. The Canfield Apartments were constructed in 1970. It was Village Inn Pancake House until 1974 when it became Jason’s Pancake House. This 2009 photo shows that subsequent owners put an ostensibly festive canopy over the mid-century modern roof overhang.

Most any architecture geek longs for that question, and a chance to exchange information. All of us long to know the worth of where we came from and where we live now, and it feels good to know it matters. Each of us is concerned about our little piece of the world we live in, and want to be comfortable in it.

photo by toby weiss | The owners of Red BBQ took over the building in 2012, and thankfully removed that awning, letting the beautiful bones of the building back to daylight. Being next door to the QT, Red took a looting hit, and it's parking lot saw a lot of trouble, but they stayed open as much as possible, even setting up pits a bit up the street to feed protesters. They are another Ferguson business who plans to stay put.

The owners of Reds BBQ took over the building in 2012, and thankfully removed that awning, letting the beautiful bones of the building back to daylight. Being next door to the QT, Red BBQ took a looting hit, and it’s parking lot saw a lot of trouble, but they stayed open as much as possible, even setting up pits a bit up the street to feed protesters. They are another Ferguson business who plans to stay put.

The stress of being constantly harassed in your world builds tension. Tension has to be released. NoCo is the logical combustion chamber, because it’s where the 21st century population vs. its government and law enforcement statistics reveal continual oppression by minority Whites over majority Blacks.

In 1965 at 9420 West Florissant and Northwinds Estate Drive was Hellrung Carpet. Behind it they were building an apartment complex. The QT went up in 1989, and as I spent 3 years documenting the demise and demolition of Northland Shopping Center, this place was an oasis of AC and beverages. Every trip NoCo includes a stop here. To see it burn was heartbreaking. To see it become a people's park makes sense. It feels odd for a gas station to have such emotional impact.

In 1965 at 9420 West Florissant and Northwinds Estate Drive was Hellrung Carpet. Behind it they were building an apartment complex. The QT went up in 1989, and as I spent 3 years documenting the demise and demolition of Northland Shopping Center, this place was an oasis of AC and beverages. Every trip to NoCo includes a stop here. 

FERGUSON HAS THE STRENGTH TO CHANGE THE TIDE

When the police continually harass only certain residents who pay taxes, start businesses, spend money at those businesses and keep the town going, those people will eventually rebel. Anyone who’s picked on can only take it for so long.

photo by Toby Weiss | QT scene on August 16, 2014 Michael Brown Peach March. To see it burn was heartbreaking. To have it become a people's park makes sense. It feels odd for a gas station to have such emotional impact. Every trip back to this area, the QT feels like a phantom limb. Considering the QT corporate model of closing old ones when a new mega-mart is built ( like further up W. Florissant) I personally don't see them rebuilding this location. Make it a memorial!

QT scene on August 16, 2014, Michael Brown Peace March. To see it burn was heartbreaking. To have it become a people’s park makes sense. It feels odd for a gas station to have such emotional impact. Every trip back to this area, the site now feels like a phantom limb. Considering the QT corporate model of closing old ones when a new mega-mart is built ( like further up W. Florissant) I personally don’t see them rebuilding this location. Make it a memorial!

The Civil War ended in 1865, but the war of White over Black never did. America repeatedly goes to the legal mat to try and resolve this conflict, but Whites find new loopholes to continue blocking Blacks, with ever diminishing benefits. It’s embarrassing for a modern, post-Civil War society to continue parroting an archaic cultural prejudice that existed before we had electricity in our homes. And it’s disgraceful to willfully set up your fellow man to fail, be it Wall Street sharks or racial profiling.

photo by Toby Weiss | This commerce stretch of W. Florissant is 50% the same, 50% changed. This car wash sign (and its building) have been exactly the same since it went up as Hydro Spray Car Wash in 1972. That sign is so great. I'm slightly embarassed to admit that during the initial unrest and angry destruction, I wondered if the sign (and the building) were intact. I scoured all news footage looking for it. And there it remains, a wonderful advertising anachronism.

This car wash sign (and its building) have been exactly the same since it went up as Hydro Spray Car Wash in 1972. This sign is charmingly retro. I’m slightly embarrassed to admit that during the initial unrest and angry destruction, I wondered if the sign (and the building) were intact. I scoured all news footage looking for it. And there it remains, a wonderful advertising anachronism.

The August 2014 murder of Michael Brown a block east of West Florissant was, finally, the wrong place at the wrong time. The 2-block stretch of West Florissant that has become intimately familiar as the background of Hands Up Don’t Shoot remains as essential today as when it was developed in the late 1950s. The businesses have changed repeatedly over the decades, but its vitality is only slightly diminished.

The image of St. Louis County Police filling the car wash bays to keep an eye on peaceful protesters disturbs me. There's far too many disturbing events and images from August 2014. You can't ever un-see it. It reveals what authorities think of certain Ferguson residents, and those who support them.

The image of St. Louis County Police filling the car wash bays to keep an eye on peaceful protesters disturbs me. There’s far too many disturbing events and images from August 2014. You can’t ever un-see it. It reveals what authorities think of certain Ferguson residents, and those who support them.

This short stretch of West Florissant Avenue remains an important revenue generator in Ferguson economics. That the businesses physically devastated by the upheaval want to rebuild and remain is a testament to that. Money talks, of course, but so does their patrons immediately coming to help clean up after looting. That’s the kind of community you want your business in.

photo by Toby Weiss | Scene from the August 16, 2014 peace march for Michael Brown, up West Florissant at Nesbit Dr. This is the residential section, with still-handsome ranch homes that began springing up in 1956. This is also where police fired tear gas into a backyard.

Scene from the August 16, 2014 peace march for Michael Brown, up West Florissant at Nesbit Dr. This is the residential section, with still-handsome ranch homes that began springing up in 1956. This is also where police fired tear gas into a backyard.

Ferguson has spent the last 10 years reimagining and rebuilding itself for the way we realistically live in the 21st century. This town has become strong enough to push back at decay that knocks at its boundary lines.

photo by Toby Weiss | During the Aug. 16th peace march, with all eyes upon Ferguson, this resident spent 4 hours mowing the tree lawns on both sides of West Florissant from Nesbit to Highmont Drives. This is Ferguson.

During the Aug. 16th peace march, with all eyes upon Ferguson, this resident spent 4 hours mowing the tree lawns on both sides of West Florissant from Nesbit to Highmont Drives. This is Ferguson.

Because all around Ferguson, once-White towns have been left to rot. It’s a precisely repeating pattern from St. Louis City in the 1950s to this very day. You can see the physical downfall of dozens of towns as the race population switches from majority-White to majority-Black. The easy, drive-by response of White St. Louis is to say Blacks just don’t care of their homes, their communities. But you cannot realistically blame things like bad roadways and decomposing sewer lines on the skin color of the people who live there. These are infrastructure issues handled by the local governments that collect their tax dollars.

photo by Toby Weiss | Right before Kappel Dr (see some cool MCM on that street) on West Florissant it turns into Dellwood, MO. At the intersection of Chambers Road, this building went up in 1961 as Schnucks supermarket. They left in 1975, and Peaches Records and Tapes took over in 1977. The building was demolished in 2007. A gas mart is in its place.

Right before Kappel Dr (see some cool MCM on that street) on West Florissant it turns into Dellwood, MO. At the intersection of Chambers Road, this building went up in 1961 as Schnucks supermarket. They left in 1975, and Peaches Records and Tapes took over in 1977. The building was demolished in 2007. A gas mart is in its place.

When, for example, the Jennings, MO street department simply stops repaving its residential streets, it’s clear that the money they’ve collected is not going toward maintaining the roads. Nor is that money going toward maintaining a police department (disbanded in 2011) or a fire department (dissolving January 2015) or bolstering its public school system. This a much bigger problem than which neighbor is not mowing their lawn or patching their roof – it’s about the town you live in falling apart around you.

photo by toby weiss| This strip mall on the northwest corner of Chambers at West Florissant went up in 1961. It's been bustling since then - vacancies fill up fast. This part of Dellwood is very hilly; many of the businesses along this stretch are tucked into the bottom of a hill. This strip mall has a great (and longstanding) brick retaining wall on the left-hand side.

This strip mall on the northwest corner of Chambers at West Florissant went up in 1961. It’s been bustling since then – vacancies fill up fast. This part of Dellwood is very hilly; many of the businesses along this stretch are tucked into the bottom of a hill. This strip mall has a great (and longstanding) brick retaining wall on the left-hand side.

The cause of this repeating pattern is touched on in, again, that book The Old Neighborhood: What We Lost in the Great Suburban Migration 1966-1999 by Ray Suarez. Wherein St. Louis criminologist Rick Rosenfeld says:

photo by Toby Weiss | Past Chambers, West Florissant is a mix of pure retail, residnetial from the 1930s and 40s that converted to mixed-use residential and commercial, and pure subdivision like Ferguson Acres, at Kroeger Dr. Oddly enough, this is in Dellwood, proper. Ferguson picks up again on the north side of this neighborhood.

Past Chambers, West Florissant is a mix of pure retail, residential from the 1930s and 40s that converted to mixed-use residential and commercial, and pure subdivision like Ferguson Acres (built 1951), at Kroeger Dr. Oddly enough, this is in Dellwood, proper. Ferguson picks up again on the north side of this neighborhood.

“What I don’t like about mobility in the United States out of cities into suburbs, and now increasingly from inner suburbs into outer suburbs, is the throwaway attitude that goes along with it. That once you move from a community, the larger metropolitan area or the larger community has no responsibility or not much for what got left behind there. What they leave behind is much worse without them. The tragedy of mobility here is not that people leave the city of St. Louis: it’s that so few resources go into the communities left behind to make them attractive to the families that are one or two cars down the line, who themselves might want to move into that neighborhood. I don’t think mobility is the issue. It’s our unwillingness to do anything about the tragic conditions that occur once people leave.”

photo by Toby Weiss | Back in Ferguson, on West Florissant before the Hudson Road intersection, this 2-story building from 1970 is indicative of how the architecture changed with a new decade. Everything near I-270 (opened in 1964) was building up too fast to invest in thoughtful architecture. This was the last of a certain breed, while heading toward the commercial suburban brick boxes that we've come to know and ignore all too well.

Back in Ferguson, on West Florissant before the Hudson Road intersection, this 2-story building from 1970 is indicative of how the architecture changed with a new decade. Everything near I-270 (opened in 1964) was building up too fast to invest in thoughtful architecture. This was the last of a certain breed, while heading toward the commercial suburban brick boxes that we’ve come to know and ignore all too well.

The curious part is that St. Louis City is in tangible turn-around from the urban decay. The City is becoming a more desirable place to live than its bordering North County townships, where the scorched earth policies are repeating despite decades of lessons on how not to do it. In a nutshell: Don’t let the Whites who abandoned it continue to control it, because history shows they will run it into the ground. Those who actually live there need to steer policy and set the new rules.

Photo by Toby Weiss | From 1966, the former IGA Supermarket at West Florissant and Hudson Rd. It is Dellwood on this east side. It is also the place where my mother bought my Bobby Sherman and partridge Family records on a rack in the frozen food section. On the west side of Hudson was the now-demolished Northland Day Nursery School.

From 1966, the former IGA Supermarket at West Florissant and Hudson Rd. It is Dellwood on this east side. It is also the place where my mother bought my Bobby Sherman and Partridge Family records on a rack in the frozen food section. Head west on Hudson, in Ferguson, past the former horse ranch on the northwest corner to what was Northland Day Nursery School.

And here’s where Ferguson matters. It has made tangible progress in keeping North County scorched earth creeping crud at bay. The citizens of Ferguson get this, and are the ones investing in new growth. But 6 – 11 shots later, everyone learns that the Ferguson police and government appear to be focused only on the racial aspects of the city, putting their energies into an imbalance that ignores Missouri law and several Constitutional amendments. It’s a myopic view dangerously at odds with its residents, and has caused real harm.

Photo by Toby Weiss | Right before hitting I-270, on the east side of W. Florissant (and still in Ferguson) is the Black Oak subdivision, developed from 1957 - 1960. It is the last of single-family residential on West Florissant. Parts of this neighborhood were threatened with demolition for the new QT a block south. Black Oak residents got schooling on how landlocked, revenue-starved townships are more than willing to boot people for commerce. They won this battle but know another war or two is ahead.

Right before hitting I-270, on the east side of W. Florissant (and still in Ferguson) is the Black Oak subdivision, developed from 1957 – 1960. It is the last of single-family residential on West Florissant. Parts of this neighborhood were threatened with demolition for the new QT a block south. Black Oak residents got schooling on how landlocked, revenue-starved townships are more than willing to boot people for commerce. They won this battle but know another war or two is ahead.

America has a long history of not tolerating those that tread upon them, and as of August 2014, Ferguson, Missouri has upheld that tradition. Because this town has pushed back against the usual markers of built environment and economic decay, it also has the strength to push back against authority that seeks to undermine it.

Ventur photo by Toby Weiss | Once you cross I-270, you're in Florissant, where the mighty avenue will come to an end at New Halls Ferry Road. At West Florissant & Dunn Rd. was - above left - the former 270 Drive-In. Today it is Clocktower Place. Above right, Kmart has taken over the former Venture department store (opened 1971). This is also the beginning of faceless retail boxes, built quickly to try and keep pace with folks rushing every further north, until they ran out of places to leap frog to. That's when they lept over the river into St. Charles County, leaving North St. Louis County behind.

Once you cross I-270, you’re in Florissant, where the mighty avenue comes to an end at New Halls Ferry Road. At West Florissant & Dunn Rd. was the former 270 Drive-In. Today it is Clocktower Place. Kmart has taken over the former Venture department store (opened 1971). This is also the beginning of faceless retail Afshari boxes, built quickly to try and keep pace with folks rushing ever further north, until they ran out of places to leap frog to. That’s when they lept over the river into St. Charles County, leaving North St. Louis County behind.

Ferguson has become a line in the sand of not allowing the same old destructive policies to take their city down. It’s a decisive moment where the new majority can take control and protect what’s good about their town. The energy that refuses to let Michael Brown’s death become another statistic has already strengthened Ferguson. There’s also a sense that Ferguson can teach us to be a more civilized and powerful St. Louis – City AND County, together. It’s one of the reasons these signs are all over Metro St. Louis.

These signs are all across Metro St. Louis. Thank you to those who understand we're all in it together, and if you've ever told others you're "from St. Louis," that includes you, too.

These signs are all across Metro St. Louis. Thank you to those who understand we’re all in it together, and if you’ve ever told others you’re “from St. Louis,” that includes you, too.

2013 RFT Web Award Winner for Best Architecture Blog

I want to extend a warm thank you with a sloppy bear hug to The Riverfront Times‘ judges who voted B.E.L.T. “Best Architecture Blog.” Here’s the kind words they said about this honor, if you scroll down to the last entry on the page.

I’m touched that they referred to me as a storyteller, because it reflects the personal nature of how I cover a building. Architectural academics can turn people off with dense technical talk about the importance of a building. But if you talk from the perspective of how architecture shapes and affects us, it’s more compelling. The people who created and used these buildings reveals why they are important.

And it’s that personal angle that has brought me the most pleasure from blogging (it’ll be 8 years this May). Arriving as comments and private emails, I get to hear personal stories and memories that were triggered by coverage of St. Louis buildings, great and small.

For instance, I’m having email conversation with a woman who grew up in a house in Jennings that was an important part of my childhood. She’s filling me in about the 3 houses shown above, and we’re sharing our memories of the middle house. I only know these new things because she read this post, and left a comment.

St. Louisans are supremely sentimental, which is great for blog comments. I still hear new old memories from people about the impact Northland Shopping Center had on their lives. 29 comments and counting. Possibly the most commented entry is about Top of the Towers, and along with recipes, their deeply personal memories are fabulous.

And lots of ex-pats Google Rossino’s Italian Restaurant, and I become the one who breaks the bad news that it no longer exists. But then they share a memory, and it’s alive again, for just a brief moment.

B.E.L.T. readers are a generous lot. They know what I like and feed my addiction. Along with memories, they sometimes send photos. Like David Aldrich, who is doing his own research about architecturally interesting J.C. Penney stores. He runs across this photo of the Wellston J.C. Penney, and sends it to me:

I hear from the children who grew up in homes that were demolished for a McMansion. Or for a brilliant change of pace, I hear from someone who saved a home from teardown.

It’s pretty cool to have the RFT like on B.E.L.T. They were even kind enough to give it Best Local Website in 2010. So thank you, guys. Especially since it’s the very first trophy I’ve ever earned!

But it’s the people who’ve been reading and sharing for all these years that make it a truly worthwhile pursuit. You have turned what is obsessively personal geekery into something that has historical merit. And that so many of you care so much about these buildings feels like a warm group hug. I am deeply grateful to all of you for taking the time to read along.

 

2012 Review of St. Louis Mid-Century Modern

It was the end of December 2012, cure and I was on the bitingly cold, snow-covered roof of the former State Bank of Wellston. We were there to explore the building in its final days, and discuss how they were going to salvage the neon tower to keep it safe for future use. It was sadness tinged with hope.

Standing atop the building as my feet turned numb from the cold, I thought of the heartbreaking months ahead documenting the Wellston bank’s demolition. But then a thought slapped me upside the head:

There were far more wins than losses when it came to mid-century modern architecture in St. Louis in 2012.

I didn’t yet know it, but the day after Christmas the website Curbed figured it out, citing two major St. Louis MCM wins in their article, Mapping the Biggest Preservation Wins and Losses in 2012. We’re #8 and #9 on the list of winners. We’re used to being on lists of shame for destroying buildings of all eras, and here we are getting a pat on the back for two major victories. And they are both mid-century modern buildings!

The Saucer, by architect Richard Henmi (shown above) is now bustling with caffeinated folks at Starbucks. The other side is still in renovation mode for a new tenant.  The Triple A building (below) by architect Wenceslao Sarmiento stood up to a tear-down threat by CVS.

The efforts to save both of these buildings from extinction are beautifully detailed here, by our city’s own Michael Allen for Next City, another national organization keeping an eye on our preservation wins in 2012.

The fight to Save Our Saucer was, technically, a 2011 campaign that came to a conclusion in 2012. For both of our round Mid Town MCM buildings the amazing fact is that City Hall – specifically, the mayor and certain aldermen – spoke out quickly and emphatically against demolition of either of these buildings. This was a huge policy change from years previous with City Fathers who really didn’t want to deal with saving buildings built after World War 2.

What caused this miraculous and productive change of perspective? I consider the following a major turning point.

It was February 14, 2009 when a large group of St. Louisans came together for a Love In to publicize the threat against the former Hotel Deville, which became a vacant apartment called San Luis. The St. Louis Archdiocese wanted to take it down to make a surface parking lot. After a disastrous Preservation Board review in June 2009, we turned it into a court battle.

The building came down and we lost the court case. We staged multiple events to raise money for our lawyer fees, and it was heartwarming to see so many people support us in this failed battle. Personally, it also created some tense moments with my deeply Catholic family who only saw it as me being part of a group that was suing the Catholic Church. Yikes.

The San Luis Did Not Die In Vain

A battle lost in such a large and public way turned out to be the moment that was needed to make positive changes in the future of mid-century modern architecture preservation. The Save Our Saucer campaign was a successful refinement of the Friends of the San Luis campaign. And the inconsistencies in St. Louis City preservation law were addressed almost immediately after the San Luis came down. The first tangible change was creating the organization ModernSTL (several of the ModStL board members were there at the Valentine’s Day Love-In) so that we had a central location for the education, preservation and celebration of St. Louis modernism.

AUGST 2012 The MCM preservation efforts of ModernSTL made the news several times in 2012, which is recapped here.

DECEMBER 2012 The victory inspired by the demise of the San Luis is the new architecture standards in the Central West End (CWE) purposely put into place to include the protection of mid-century modern buildings. Again, let Michael Allen give you the important details of this new standard.

That residents and alderpersons in these CWE wards realized that post-World War 2 buildings are just as much a part of the area’s history as the original buildings made my heart break with happiness. That they stuck with it to turn it into legal business that prevents senseless destruction like The San Luis in the future is a miracle. This is a major rethink of what constitutes an historic building. I love these folks! Thank you.

March 2012 The City of St. Louis received a $24,600 grant from the State Historic Preservation Office to survey the City’s mid-century modern buildings.  Mayor Francis Slay writes of this award: “This specific research will identify important mid-century modern buildings and should lead toward protection from thoughtless demolition and possible resources for their improvement. Our City is rich in beautiful and significant architecture – and this study will help it remain that way.”

Here’s more details about the survey. It is expected to be complete by the summer of 2013. I am deeply humbled (and a little teary eyed) to learn that many B.E.L.T. entries have been used as part of their research on the city’s MCM stock.  My wish for 2013 is that downtown Clayton, MO will consider doing something similar.

SPRING 2012 Having an article published in Atomic Ranch magazine was a personal highlight. But even better was that it was about Ladue Estates, the first mid-century modern subdivision in Missouri to land on the National Register of Historic Places. The residents who made this MCM preservation milestone possible have become good friends of ModernSTL, and it was a pleasure to stage a second annual open house and tour of their neighborhood in May 2012.

2012 MCM Mind Shift

In general, I have felt, read and seen a huge shift in mid-century modernism appreciation. Both in the private and public realms, people of St. Louis just get it! They get that this era of architecture has significant meaning in our history, and that many of these buildings are flat out gorgeous and worthy of keeping in use.

Two great examples of re-using rather than demolishing MCM in 2012 include:

This Sunset Hills building started life as the Mark Twain Cinema in 1967, and then became the Two Hearts Banquet Center, which closed in 2012. A local labor union bought the building to turn into their new offices. And here’s the kicker – they love the building as is. The renovations they are making are only to make it usable for their needs, not to destroy its essence. Here’s more of the story.

At Spring Avenue and Delor Street in Dutchtown, the Southtowne Village apartment complex, built in 1962, stood vacant and vandalized. When chainlink went up around the bombed out site, I assumed they were being demolished. It was a great to be completely, utterly wrong!

Thank you to 25th Ward alderman Shane Cohn for filling me in. The Regional Housing and Community Development Alliance is redeveloping the site by modernizing most of the existing buildings, and supplementing them with some new buildings better sited in the spaces left after demolition of the back buildings. The aim is more curb appeal and more urban density.

As we can see from the mid-construction photo above, they’re adding some 21st century architectural bling to appeal to new tenants. The mid-century character of the buildings will be buried. But the major point is that instead of automatically tearing down these buildings, they are re-using them! And why not?  We now live in a time of wasted resources and limited means – it makes perfect economic sense to save money and the environment by re-using as much as you can.  Construction-wise, a building from 1962 is just as good  as one from 1862 for renovation, and I applaud the RHCDA for this enlightened way of thinking.

A Short Journey to StL MCM Preservation

Urban Renewal of the 1960s is what created the preservation movement, as we know it today. It took well over 25 years to change the perspective of the public and developers so that they would think first of preserving a turn-of-the-20th-century building rather than demolishing it. St. Louis, specifically, has benefited greatly from Historic Tax Credits that put so many of our classic buildings in downtown St. Louis back into service.  All of this is possible because of pioneering preservation efforts.

In May of 2005, I started B.E.L.T. primarily as an outlet for documenting and promoting St. Louis mid-century modern architecture. St. Louis was a major recipient of federal Urban Renewal subsidies, tearing down hundreds of acres of our history to create a better society. When they began systematically tearing down these replacement buildings in the early 2000s, I was grief-stricken.  I literally stood on the rubble of Northland Shopping Center and bawled like a baby.  Something had to be done to update the preservation mindset to include the buildings of the greatest period of modern American progress.

With the help and camaraderie of hundreds of forward-thinking St. Louisans, we have changed the preservation mindset to include mid-century modernism. And whereas it took decades to automatically save post-Victorian buildings, we understand the importance of saving post-WW2 buildings in less than 10 years!

2012 was the year that all of this new mindset became glaringly, lovingly apparent. It bears repeating: There have been more victories than losses.  I’m even optimistic about the plight of Lewis and Clark branch of the St. Louis Count Library. In less than a year, their board has already acknowledged its merit; the story continues into 2013.

From St. Louis City Hall, to activists, to social networks, there are thousands of people who deserve a hearty round of applause for making all of this possible. It also needs to be noted how progressive St. Louis is when it comes to architectural preservation matters. No matter the year it was built, we now know our buildings matter because our history – past, present and future – matters.  It takes great strength and confidence to protect and nurture the things that are worthwhile.

St. Louis, you kick ass!

Atomic Ranches Tucked into Dellwood

Kappel Drive at West Florissant dellwood mo photo by toby weiss

Kappel Drive at West Florissant
Dellwod, MO

On the west side of West Florissant is a short stretch of Kappel Drive, more like a termination of the road from the east side of West Florissant than a full block.  All of the other homes in this immediate area are slight variations on the middle-of-the-road brick ranch built in the first half of the 1950s. But this little tiny block went more atomic.

Kappel Drive at West Florissant dellwood mo photo by toby weiss

A front wall of windows and a carport differentiate these from the rest of the homes. Seemingly tiny differences, but it catches the eye if you glance up the street from West Florissant.

A check of St. Louis County records shows all of these more atomic homes in Westwood Acres were built between 1956 & 1957, 1064 square feet of  3 bedrooms, one bathroom, and a full basement.

Kappel Drive at West Florissant dellwood mo photo by toby weiss

The dividing line between Dellwood and Ferguson may run through the backyard of these homes on the south side of Kappel.  The rest of this neighborhood to the south is called Northland Hills, with homes starting at 1012 s.f. and having an attached garage. Records show the entire area was built up between 1955 – 1957.

Kappel Drive at West Florissant dellwood mo photo by toby weiss

Be it Dellwood or Ferguson, all of these subdivisions along West Florissant, north of Ferguson Avenue, were built in response to the construction of Northland Shopping Center, and the promise it fulfilled of turning farmland into modern neighborhoods.

When my father, Richard, came home from the Korean War in 1954, his father, Arthur, drove him up West Florissant to Chambers Road. At that time, only a few small, new businesses were popping up south of Chambers. This intersection was still widely known as the crossroads where farmers brought their produce to sell, and where you could buy horse and livestock equipment.

Standing at the intersection, Arthur points to the horse field at the northeast corner of Chambers and West Florissant and tells his son, “If you’re smart, you’d buy up property over there.”

Richard looks at his father as if he were insane.
Arthur points back toward Northland under construction, and all the land around it being plotted for housing and says, “We’re all moving north at a rapid clip. This field’s days are numbered. You might as well make some money from it.”

Of course Richard did not buy any of that land. And of course the intersection was completely built up by 1961, and development spread further north every month.

Kappel Drive at West Florissant dellwood mo photo by toby weiss

During those boom years, it looks as if one contractor was responsible for most of the ranch homes around the Dellwood/Ferguson dividing line. But somehow, these airy little numbers snuck into a short stretch of Kappel Drive. Everyone of them is still well under $100,000, in good condition and relatively remuddle-free.

Can Northwest Plaza Be Saved?

northwest-plaza-01

The news that Macy’s is closing its Northwest Plaza store marks the sound of the footsteps of a dead mall walking.  The fate of both the former Famous-Barr department store and Northwest Plaza makes me ultra sad, and even before this news I was always nostalgic for the Northwest Plaza of old.  It once had energy and personality, then someone decided to put a lid on it.  It’s been a slow suffocation ever since.

northwest-plaza-02

My deep fondness for the Famous-Barr at Northwest Plaza stems from one exact moment in time, and it radiates out from there forever more.

November 1978, Olivia Newton-John releases the album Totally Hot.  It was a calculated move to capitalize on her “bad Sandy” from Grease.  The songs were the most rock she’d ever be, and it was matched with a look which was a modern-day continuation of the 1950s black leather look that had ended the movie my friend and I had seen 7 times in the movie theaters that summer.  Some of the songs on this record were more guitar driven, the vocals randy and tough, and to a long-time Livvy fan (Nerd Alert: I belonged to her fan club years before Grease) it was revolutionary.

Just as important as the music (which still sounds just as great today, thanks to the brilliance of producer John Farrar) was the album cover art work.  I had just turned 13, and had been given the go-ahead to wear make-up to school, and this is exactly how I wanted to look!

northwest-plaza-031

A Friday night in December 1978, I was dropped off at Northwest Plaza, and I trudged through the snow to get to the very spot shown above: the Estee Lauder counter at this Famous-Barr.  Where else would a newborn teenage girl go to get that smokey-eyed Livvy look?  I stared down through the glass case at all the eye liner pencils, and my heart pounded with excitement at this whole new world of possibility before me.  Then a sales lady asked how she could help, and my head started pounding with fear because I had no clue what to say, what to do.  I was only used to using the products in my Mother’s make-up drawer, not buying my own!

The sales lady was very kind, and after a swift transaction, I walked away with a fat Estee Lauder eye liner pencil of a deep blue-gray.  It was my first make-up purchase, my first adult thing, and I still remember the smell of the winter air as I walked out of the store, and turning to look back inside at the warm glow of a cosmetics department that had accepted me as one of their own.  Even then, I knew it was a milestone girl-to-woman moment.

As most teenage girls tend to do at the start, I too often left the house looking like a hussy raccoon.  I abused that pencil something fierce, and still never came close to looking like Lovely Livvy.  I do believe that the stub of that inaugural eye pencil still exists in one of my junk piles, holding onto it because that time resonated so deeply.  And so does the place that it happened at.

northwest-plaza-04

Which is why I went there today, to take one last look around, take some photos, and see if the Ghosts of Shopping Past still float under that majestic, astro ceiling.  Today was also a gathering of the Facebook groups I Hung Out at the Northwest Plaza Fountain as a Teenager and Let’s Revitalize Northwest Plaza Now! As a person still grieving from the death of Northland Shopping Center, I had to join both groups and then get a look at the people who were foolhardy enough to try and save a dying mall.

I was there around 1:30, so didn’t get to see what was eventually about 300 people, as reported by NOCO StL.  But Northwest Plaza is so scary dead that seeing the healthy handfuls of people already gathered at the spot where the fountain once lay was heart-warming.

Putting a roof over this outdoor plaza was a bad idea from the start; back in the day, I don’t recall a single soul agreeing that this was just what the place needed.  But this is what the then-owners felt was necessary to keep up with the Retail Joneses, that shoppers want a hermetically sealed environment more than they want personality and ease of access that comes from open-air malls.  With millions of dollars of renovation, they erased the low-slung, mid-century midwest ease that changed with the seasons for a clinical, soulless, Any Town U.S.A. warehouse.

I have a sharp, instinctual sense of direction, but once they put the roof over Northwest Plaza, I got lost (as in “will this be an anxiety attack?” lost) every time.  I’d try to use the anchor stores as place reminders of the old layout, but it was all so tall and bland and disconcerting, that I’d get discombobulated.  The jagged contrast between what it used to be and what it had become was so depressing that I haven’t stepped foot in the place for well over 10 years.  It had nothing to do with crime or location or the types of stores within.  It was about being creeped out about walking over the burial grounds of a once-beloved place.  Oh, how I long to see even the blurriest photo of those lighted deers that graced the Plaza at Christmas time… Northwest Plaza exists only in memories. This mall that has its name is just a tombstone.

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I am so ecstatic to see a passionate group of people wanting to save this place that I can taste it, but there’s also a bitter aftertaste.  There is very little original fiber left to Northwest Plaza, so only a sense of the place we once loved can be revitalized.  Even if future plans do include removing the roof, it still won’t be the Northwest Plaza being honored today, it will just be a new “lifestyle center” hoping to coast off nostalgic momentum.

Today also poked at the mental scab I have about the demolition of Northland Shopping Center, another beloved North St. Louis County place that could instantly transport you back to the golden days of yesteryear because it was still in its original state.  And because of the era in which it was built, Northland was more architecturally significant than Northwest Plaza.  But back in 2002-2003, when news of Northland’s demise was first reported, there was not yet Facebook groups to make people aware of what was happening and spur them into action. And trust that people feel just as passioantely about Northland as they do Northwest; even all these many years on, I still regularly get e-mails from people sharing their Northland memories after they’ve found my cyber memorial.  The St. Louisan sense of place is very strong, and we should be proud of that.

But back in the pre-social network year of 2003, it was just me and a couple of other mourners who documented Northland’s last days.  Even then, I knew trying to save it was a losing game;  acceptance and love of mid-century modern architecture was barely stirring, and the idea of trying to save retail is a brand new concept brought about by the deaths of enclosed malls.

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What was particularly galling was that as the last walls of Northland were being toppled, retail trends were swinging to (or actually, back to) open air plazas.  Wow, and they just killed a great opportunity for a retro open air plaza, which could have been the mack daddy of St. Louis lifestyle shopping destinations.  It was also right around this time that the first rumors of removing the roof swirled around Northwest Plaza.  This double dose of irony was more than I could withstand and I learned to just let go of any efforts or thoughts of preserving retail because it’s just about following the money which is about following the trends, and obviously, no one cares about retail buildings anyway.

Until now.
These hundreds of people who signed up cyberally and then, today, showed up in person are stirring hope in my heart.  Are we ready to embrace sense of place, and ready to expect people-friendly and attractive built environments?  Are we realizing how wasteful it is to keep destroying the places of our past for a future with a short shelf life?  Regardless of what becomes of Northwest Plaza, I’m just relieved to hear others joining this conversation, and am so proud of St. Louis for taking this stand.  You guys rock!

RELATED
Northland Shopping Center
Tear Down Jamestown Mall

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14-Year Old Boy Murdered on Meadowlark

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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.

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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.

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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…

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…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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

Northland Shopping Center Artifacts

Let’s carry the story into 2006, by sharing what I saved from Northland Shopping Center.
Reminder: Should you want it, the entire story is here, and enlarge any photo by clicking on it.

Northland’s main sign (above, left) stood diagonal to the West Florissant and Lucas & Hunt intersection. For decades, it was the community’s bulletin board.
When its demolition date arrived, they obviously didn’t bother to dismantle it; they just crushed and whisked (most of) it away. Broken pieces of the big plastic letters were partially buried in the dirt. The “R” (above, right) was the only letter that remained recognizable. In my backyard, it certainly does look like a haggard “P,” yes.

The Northland Cinema (above, top) was built in 1967. I took the last pictures in Spring 2002, including the pool-side-fabulous lobby (above, bottom left). Darren Snow and I visited on July 2002, and the cinema had been thoroughly demolished, the last of its remains in a few large trash dumpsters nearby. To which D. pulled his pickup alongside so I could climb atop the roof and get into the trash dumpsters, desperate to get a recognizable souvenir. My only “save” was a single, baby blue ceramic tile (above, bottom right) that was once part of the ladies’ restroom sink backsplash. It’s only 1″ square, inconsequential at best, but simply holding it makes me feel way better than any new age crystals they sell.

On that same day, we waded through the forest of fallen light poles (above, left) that once surrounded the Cinema. The metal parking-place reminders that hung around each pole turned out to be rather huge. Darren was the toolbox-wielding hero (above, middle) who patiently cracked decades of rust and snagged us some parking reminders. “A13” is somewhat heavy and bulky (above, right), but that’s what makes it the perfect sunroom muddy-shoe-holder.

The former Baker’s Shoes storefront (above, top left) yielded a few treasures. The original door pulls (above, bottom left) were long-coveted, and once vandals broke a display window, I was able to get in and take the handles, which had been sitting on the vacant countertop (top red arrow in top left picture) for over 2 years. They are gorgeous.

During a summer 2005 visit, Rob Powers was dead-set on having the Baker’s store address (above, bottom middle). Rightly so, because it’s in that smart Lever House font. I dragged a 6 ft. ladder down from the (now easily accessible) Former Kresge. Darren’s magic toolbox had the right size screwdriver. Rob spent a good 15-minutes of cursing under his breath, and finally dislodged (above, bottom right) the Dirty 30. Since he was so diligent, he deserved to keep it.

I also had to take a brick from Baker’s (above, top right). Special Nerd Note about this photo: the Baker’s brick is sitting atop a limestone brick from the old Cross Keys Shopping Center. It was part of the former Kroger grocery store facade.

Baker’s Shoes eventually became Kingsbury Shoes (above, left) and the hanging promenade sign (above, top right) eventually became mine (above, bottom right) after the wrecking ball smashed this section into dust.

From the Former Famous-Barr (above, top left), I dragged off a stone brick (above, top right). A few days later, Brett Reagan (above, middle right) brought along his pickup truck to help me gather more FB stuff, like a chair (above, bottom right) that came from the FB Human Resources office. I figured out its provenance from there being so many of these desk chairs sitting nearby the Employment Office entrance. Plus, after 13.5 years as a Famous-Barr advertising employee, I was overly familiar with the furniture in the areas where folks filled out employment applications.

The FB door pulls (above, middle left) were something I always longed for, and I now had clear access to removing them, but we had no frickin’ tools! While we stood talking inside the building, we kicked at piles of debris and up popped a solo door pull! The sucker (above, bottom left) easily weighs 10 pounds, and is dashing in its modern simplicity.

More FB fixture finds include a fire alarm (above, left) and a tin placard that Michael Allen pulled from an AC unit (above, right) and was so kind as to let me keep.

I waited a couple of weeks for the sign revealed in the FB window (above, left) to become available. So, it’s large but it’s old foam core, so it shouldn’t have been a problem, right? Oh man, it was brittle, large and awkward (above, right) and was the hardest thing to load into Brett’s truck.

The begrudgingly optimistic sign (above, left) that sat inside the former candy store’s vacant display window was eventually scooped up by me as it fluttered by in a post-demolition wind.

The sign died in the above, left windows, and later I got a patch of the ceramic tile (above, right) that covered the display facade.

The exterior stairwells of the Northland Office Building (above, left) were wings of metal, concrete and Mondrian stained glass (above, top right). During demolition, the glass fell to become candy sprinkles on the sidewalk. I oh-so-carefully carried off some really sharp shards (above, bottom right), and they never fail to remind me of so many moments of sunlit abstract beauty in the stairwells.

The ground floor lobby of the Office Building (above, top left & right) was straightforward linear, with its only organic texture being the tile walls. One had to stand right against it to notice how jet-age loopy the rock pattern was. I later learned a deep appreciation for those rock walls only after I got a chunk of it (above, bottom left). Those are halved pebbles of polished granite embedded in a sand base. My little piece has heft and presence, and the “Made In Italy” stamped on the side (above, bottom right) reveals a high price tag, even back in the mid-50s. Which just highlights how Northland developers and architects never skimped on materials. The construction and the finishes were for important permanent buildings, so they figured the cost was worth it. So, cost pro-rated by 50 years, they probably got their money’s worth…

The former Kresges at Northland was my Xanadu, and while I got a few things, I never got the chance to thoroughly dig through the guts in search of authentic Kresge souvenirs. The wrecking ball and rain got to it before I got a final crack at. But I did get to tear off a piece (above, bottom right) of Kresge’s upper level facade (above, top). Those sheets of coral and red enameled metal were screwed on for eternity, and I even lost my best screwdriver in the fray, but I won the fight (above, bottom left) and took away a valid, solid chunk of S.S. Kresge & Co.

On another day, I was happy to just get an original thermostat cover (above, left & right).

But for me, the most-coveted item in the place was the original Coke-Cola clock (above, top left). Forever it hung on the back wall of the upper floor; when Conine said to meet her by the cash registers in 15 minutes, that clock kept me from losing solo toy browsing privileges. At some point, a cat lover permanently altered the clock face, but I still wanted it bad.

Many times I tried to work up the nerve to walk inside as McCrory Furniture staff cleared out the store, and simply ask if I could have the clock. But if they knew it was important to me, they’d want to sell it for some absurd amount, I’d refuse and they’d keep the clock to spite me. That’s how revved up I was about snagging the clock – imaging fights with furniture storeowners.

I kept a vigilant eye, and finally Powers, Snow and I had unrestricted access and a ladder. Despite repeated attempts, we couldn’t budge the giant, heavy clock from the wall, and my heart was breaking. I was so close, the clock is right here in my hands and I can’t have it! Just cruel.

About a week later, Vince Mattina and I found the clock had been carefully removed from the wall, and sitting on the floor not too far from where it hung (above, middle left). It’s way too big to fit into my car, but what about just taking the clock face? The hands (above, middle right) had to be removed in order to free the face plate, and I failed miserably at it, almost snapping off the hands in anger. Vince was far less emotional about it, and methodically removed the hands (“Now, you have to save these, too. It’s the best part.”) without aid of tools. My hero, Vinceman, freed the clock hands and face, helped me cart out the bounty, and even took my picture (above, bottom) with the hard-won prize. It was a triumphant moment of relief and happiness, certainly the biggest mount in my trophy room (above, top right).

The stairwells at Northland (above, right) were always a visual and physical delight. On one visit, one of the canister lights (above, left) had fallen down onto the stairs. The scale of Northland was so large that all ornament on it seemed normal-sized when seen from the sidewalk. But when finally right up on a piece, it was overwhelmingly large. This canister light was monstrous. So huge that I had to pass on carting it off, and I regret not having made the effort. It would have made a unique and durable trash can.


And here’s the last piece of Northland I own (above). I have no idea exactly which store it came from; it peeked out from a pile of debris on the northern lower level, so I scooped it up. This one square foot ceramic glazed tile summarizes the Northland in my mind. That particular shade of blue is so mid-century modern, so cocktail lounge cool, so New Frontier. It’s the big brother to the little sister Northland Cinema tile. If all my Northland artifacts were in book form, this tile would be the cover.
A warm “thank you” to all the people who helped me cart off “chapters” of the Northland story.

Northland Demolition, Part 5

September 24, 2005
The last visit was September 4th, 2005. The entire chronological saga is compiled here. Also, by clicking on them, all photos enlarge for better viewing.
After a 3 week absence, I was shocked to see the tower (above) still standing. But the demolition crew had moved their Porta Potties, so they were ready to get serious about crushing the southern upper level.

Circling around all sides of the tower (above left & right) was an odd sort of Maypole dance.

In preparation for the final crush, the Walgreen’s sign was uncovered (above, left), and capturing this Mondrian-esque sight (above, right) made me nostalgic for when Walgreen’s had a killer liquor department. It was one of my favorite places for last-minute Christmas stocking stuffers. But in the late 1990s, the Mormons reportedly bought the corporation, and they banned the booze.
7 doors north, all the glass was stripped from the former jewelry store, making it easy to take one last lap around the ravaged space (above, left). It also featured a hatchet edge (above, right) where I could stare straight down into the abyss that was once the Famous-Barr building and the entire north wing, upper & lower levels.

Staring up from the lower level, the same jewlery store can be seen on the far left of the above, left picture. One normally only sees neat sections on building blueprints, but from this view, it was a section plan come to life. It’s a fascinating reveal of how the upper & lower levels worked, and how the wide array of facade materials formed a large, modern mosaic. Down at the West Florissant entrance to the Office Building (above, right), I got one of the last shots of the upper & lower level play of the south wing. With the plexiglass walls gone, it becomes a pure, unobstructed view of the basic, geometric building blocks that was the ingenious premise of Northland.
The Rubble Mountain (above) was getting ever taller. Even though the concept of climbing the busted remains of Northland creeped me out, it was too unusual to let a self-timer photo opp pass.
No, I don’t usually spelunk demo sites in a dress. I’d come straight from work. And in my left hand are pieces of the stained glass from the Office Building (far right in the photo) exterior stairwells that were now available. A Scavenger Sidewalk Sale, of sorts.

Here’s a small collage of uncovered signage and tossed toilets. I finally got an unobstructed shot of the Staten Island Cleaners sign (above, top right). When the dry cleaners vacated, a chop suey joint took over the space. It looks as if when they installed their own sign, they simply knocked the Staten Island sign over onto the roof.

October 9th, 2005

2 weeks later, exactly half of the south wing has disappeared (above). And I zoom in on what the demo crew left behind when the closing bell sounded at Friday quitting time.

As sad as it is, there’s also beauty and grace within demolition scenes. Goethe said “architecture is frozen music,” but when its busted pieces are crashing and fluttering about, it thaws to become a sorrowful, minor key symphony. In the case of the Foxmoor storefront (above, left & right), it also felt like an action sequence that came to a halt when the film reel jammed.
Or a giant’s game of Pick-Up Stix (above). The light poles just barely missed falling into the pit. Also note the 4 round green planters near the top center of the photo.
As the crews have methodically dismantled and cleared each space before crushing it, they carefully move these planters out of the way, rather than obliterating them.

It’s so odd, for the crews have to physically move these planters from place to place. But it’s also comical, because the planters now resemble a Greek chorus traveling behind each new wound, pointing and contributing commentary. These planters have become bookmarks, or a perverse version of Where’s Waldo? as I crane to find them somewhere within each frame.

A close-up view (above) reveals about 5 layers of paint over the years, with the original layer being the light blue that dominated the Northland color scheme. Also, I always assumed the planters were made of concrete, but it’s actually a fiberglass & plastic mixture. This makes them relatively light-weight, and easy for the demolition crew to move about like checkers.
Hmmm…would I be able to move one from the site and into my backyard?
The Northland Office Building was wide open and prepped for the big crush…
…with machinery lined up to attack. So I figured I better get inside for some final detail shots before it was gone for good.
Even more stained glass was missing from the external stairwells (above, left), which left beautiful confetti on the sidewalk below.
Coming in through the south-facing main entrance, I’m surprised at how much of the original finishes remain. There’s the simplistic handles of the glass doors against the space-age shaped mosaic tile (above, left) , and the goblet-shaped metal canister lights (above, right) that were prevalent in many commercial spaces during the late 1950s.
Exit the building from the north-facing side (above, left) and head over for the last look at what remains of the south wing’s lower level (above, right).
I finally got to see what material had comprised the black rectangle (above, left), since they were now scattered on the ground. Each panel was metal covered in porcelain enamel (above, right), which surprised me. That material was recently out of favor for facades, with its heyday being the 1930s and ’40s. For the Northland architects to pick that material for use in a purely decorative manner was a nice touch.

Of course I tried to salvage one of the panels, but like everything at Northland, the pieces wind up being much, much larger than they seem from ground level. This single panel was about 3′ x 2′, and way too heavy for me to carry over a long distance. Since the site was completely closed off and torn up, I had to park at the stand-alone Blockbuster up near the Lucas & Hunt/West Florissant intersection and walk a bit to get to the demolition. While it never seemed like a long walk previously, carrying a 35-pound enamel panel would make it feel like a mile. So, I had to leave it behind. I still regret that, but then, where would I have put it?
Considering how fast the crew moves when they’re cleared for take off, I had a feeling this was my last moments with the tower (above). Actually, I was hoping it would be, because I was worn down by the anticipatory dread. But I was torn between wanting to capture parts of its demise, and just returning to see it completely cleared (like the grocery store) so I wouldn’t have to see such a grim sight.

October 16th, 2005
On this day, I turned 40, while Northland only made it a scootch past 50 years old. I hope there’s no symbolism involved here.
And I caught the last gasping remains of the once-mighty-pretty tower (above). While the crew completely cleared everything immediately around it, they left just this last bit standing, almost as if leaving me a birthday present. Thank you…. I think?
But the Office Building still stands in the background (above). Which made sense when I pondered it; the demo crew is very methodical. They won’t crush the Office Building until they’ve completely cleared the last bits of the mall, proper. Environmental Operations, Inc. have been fabulously meticulous throughout this long, hard process.
The Greek chorus (above, left) moves to the southwest, to sing a final farewell to the tower, while trekking directly north of them, I find a sign (above, right) patiently narrating what all this rubble once was.
Looking west at what was the stairwell to the lower level, the still-standing bank can be seen on the left side of the above, left photo.
Once there was a multitude of stainless steel columns, but now we have the Last Mohican (above, right). I tried my best to salvage any piece of the still-vibrant stainless steel, but the sections were either too long or too large to handle by myself, or were jutting out of piles that could have turned into a massively scary game of Jenga if I pulled incorrectly.

Since the bank will remain open for the duration of the demolition and new construction, I shot one of the drive-up ATM kiosks as a future reference point (above). Once everything is demolished, spatial relations change drastically, and it’s difficult to pin-point what was where. By picking something that will remain, it’s easier to find the phantom spot in the future, should I wish to engage in morbid memories. But so far, I just want this to be over with.
Save for the main one, all identifying signs (above, left) still ring the perimeter of the property. I’d love to get my hands one of those Exit signs, but again, they are really huge. I could get someone to help me cart it off, but then where would I put it? Turn it into a coffee table, maybe?

Above, right, standing in what was the lower level, and shooting through, and past, the iron framework. And it’s still a weird, creepy feeling to be standing on what was a solid building just days ago.
This was the southern lower level shipping and receiving garage, which lead to an entire city’s worth of neighborhoods underground. I never realized just how massive this place was until they dismantled it. The dry cleaners/chop suey joint was to the immediate left in the (above) photo, the stairwell to the right. In the last years, one could always smell urine when walking past this spot. Now it has a brief chance to air out…
Here’s the last of Northland’s 3 stairwells (above), which had been sealed off since at least 2002. And again, we see the plaster not so much falling off, but peeling off to hang like a curtain. It truly is an impressive sight. All that weight hung like that for another 2 weeks or so, which points out – yet again – how tightly and strongly this place was built. And which is why it’s taking so long to tear it down.
Which makes me think about the place that will replace Northland. In about 25-30 years from the date it opens, it will be crushed for some other new development, but at that time, demolition will only take about a month or so. Meaning, the advantage to building cheap, flimsy new buildings is the built-in demolition savings in the future. Very clever, that.

From the lower-level pit, I look up for one final goodbye to The Tower, and then had to split for some birthday merriment. But it felt good to spend a little time with a place that has meant so much to me over these 4 decades of life.

October 24th, 2005
At the very north-eastern of the Northland property (see star on map, above), there was an organic, pedestrian-made foot path that took you from the top of the hill down into Northland, just behind the cinema. Many of us walked to Northland back in the day (I know I walked to more than was ever driven to), and many still do; every time I’ve been at the site, easily 20% of the folks I encountered were on foot.
The new developers have acknowledged that path, and made it official by paving it (above, left). Nice touch, truly, because it shows they’ve acknowledged how people in the community have – and will – use the place. Then I get to the top of new sidewalk, and….

(Above, right). What the piss?! Some well intentioned but dunder-headed street department worker decided to cap off the metal guard rail! You can see how fresh it is, and how it violates the freshly laid concrete sidewalk! What were they thinking?!
Oh, they weren’t thinking, obviously.
Build an official pedestrian path, and then block it off…brilliant, just brilliant.

OK, the young can easily hop over it, but what about the old? And even as I photographed this jerk move, 3 little kids were riding their bikes across the Northland lot. They pedaled up the new sidewalk, and confronted the new roadblock. The 2 boys quickly got off their bikes, picked them up and over onto the outer sidewalk. Then they pedaled off, leaving behind the little girl, who couldn’t pick up her bike as easily.
Putting her bike on its side, she pushed it under the rail, then hopped over to pull it out the rest of the way. During the solid minute that she spent overcoming the obstacle, the boys had long-since disappeared, and she had to frantically pedal off to find them.
Either Sansone (the developer) needs to get over there and remove that end cap, or someone in the neighborhood needs to take a chainsaw to it. Either way, fix it!
Northland was a 65+ acre property, very hilly. My father tells of hunting rabbits on that forest-like property back in the 1940s. The original Northland architects worked with that landscape, creating a multi-level structure. The new development will obviously be one level, on flat ground. Looking north (above, left, and note the Greek Chorus in the distance), see that everything has been filled in. The demolition remains were packed down to form a foundation, and fresh dirt caps it off.

Looking west towards the Office Building (above, right) better shows the line of demarcation. I’m standing on the fresh ground near the border of debris. Construction-wise, earth moving is a budget killer. It’s often wiser – both financially and ecologically – to build with the land then to rearrange it (as in the original 1950s construction). But when “recycling” this property, they recycled parts of the building as their in-fill, and only had to pay for enough new dirt to ice over it. That’s a large budget relief. Plus, it’s also cheaper to build single-level dry wall & brick boxes. So, this does highlight why developers are constantly looking to scoop up previously built-up land for their new enterprises: huge savings.OK, I admit that I was slightly annoyed to see the Office Building still standing. It just prolongs my agony, drags all this out far too long. But the medicine ball had been moved into place (above), so they’d be gettin’ busy on the Office any day now.
Here’s a still-life (above) of newly-yanked Office debris. I call it “Mid-Century Electronica.”
Knowing the ball would be swinging, I went back inside the Office Building to find a souvenir. The lobby (above, left) always had the crazy sophisticate marble mosaic tile, and the chunk that fell off the corner (above, right) was laying there for me to cart off.

And as I gathered loot, a fellow scavenger walked in. Earlier in this visit, I’d noted a man (and his pick-up truck) moving about the large piles of building debris on (what remained of) the upper-level Actually, I’ve seen a lot of these types; they’re probably rooting for copper. Since no one has every truly guarded the site (I’ve stared right at Jennings’ cop cars as they drove past me, and just kept going), so why not retrieve anything of monetary value?

On this day, as I photographed from the pit and he surveyed trash piles above, we visually acknowledged one another, and kept going. Later, as I sifted through the dislodged junk inside the Office Building, I heard him walk in, talking on a cell phone. Again, we made eye contact and casually went about our business, which was an oddly comforting form of corpse communion.
And here’s what (finally) became the very final shot of the Northland Office Building.

November 9th, 2005
Almost 3 weeks later, the Office Building is now thoroughly gone (above).
The bank building finally becomes a stand-alone “out lot.” It’s odd that this building survives; it was the last bit to be tacked onto Northland, and then the Last Mohican. But money talks, and this place remains defiantly open.
From the upper-level (above, top), it’s shocking how much space the bank actually took up within the complex. But when viewed (above, bottom) from the northern-most end of the property (I’m standing on the train tracks for this shot), the bank just looks sad and misshapen when divorced of context.

And my physical work at Northland is basically finished. I’m relieved.
There’ll be 2 more posts about it: the memorabilia I carted off; friends old and new who joined me during this odyssey along with commentary and memories from those who loved the place just as much as me. Until that time…
Miniature Memorial To The Northland Office Building
As a kid, I mentally referred to the place as “The Marcus Welby, M.D. building,” and it always reminds me of Flipper.
To keep me occupied while in the waiting room, Conine bought me a Flipper coloring book, which was purchased at Kresges, on our way to her doctor appointment. I colored in about 3 or 4 pages before asking the receptionist if I could have the key to the restroom. I took the coloring book with me (why?!) , and didn’t realize I’d obviously left it in the bathroom until many hours later.
The Gasaway Pharmacy had been on the 1st floor from the very beginning to the very end, and never once remodeled. Their goodbye note is above (click on photo to read a larger version), and note that it was composed on an old-fashioned typewriter.

Northland Demolition Part 4

July 31, 2005
The last visit was July 26th.
northland shopping center demolition photos by Toby Weiss
And with the former Famous Barr building utterly gone and buried in a massive pit (above, right), the demolition crew got busy on the north arm of Northland.
northland shopping center demolition photos by Toby Weiss
(Above, left) In the foreground, we’re looking down into what remains of the Famous-Barr upper basement as we stand on the upper parking lot. And what are the tree roots growing into? I never comprehended the complexity of Northland’s multi-levels until it was dismantled, and I’m still impressed with the designers’ ingenuity.
(Above, right) The former Baker’s Shoes gets a good medicine ball whack before the crew went home for the weekend.

northland center demolition photos by Toby Weiss
Demolition debris can’t help but be poetic in its descent. In person, the flow of the plaster and brick (above) was balletic.
northland shopping center demolition in jennings mo photos by Toby Weiss
It’s hard for me to watch them take this building down, but tearing it down also reveals the older layers I remember, and hidden layers that the public was never meant to see. The southern next door neighbor of the former Kresge’s was obviously an International Shoe at the time the place was built. This wooden construction plaque (above, right) had been buried behind the original drywall.
The former Kresge itself (above, right) revealed a few hidden treasures, and unwillingly gave up a few more pieces for me to cart off. Kresge’s is such a special and mythical place for me (and some others, too), that I will post a separate farewell entry to Northland’s Kresge’s in the near future.

kinney shoes at northland shopping enter photos by Toby Weiss
As we head down to the lower level, a sign (above, left) still recalls what shops were there right around the time Famous Barr vacated in the very early 1990s.
And Northland was obviously shoe shopping mecca with Kinney (above, right) being one of two stores that permanently marked their footware territory in concrete. The clothing store Worth’s had done the same, and it’s always a thrill to find store logos embedded in entry ways. From small towns to large cities, it was assumed that a shop would always be in that location, so it was no problem to pay a little extra for some sidewalk branding art.

northland shopping center demolition photos by toby weiss
To aid in asbestos removal, the demolition crew blasted a hole into the west wall of the top floor of Kresge (above), and by doing so, they revealed the deep aqua blue tile of the original facade. Actually, all shades of light to medium blues, in concert with all that stainless steel, was the dominate color scheme of Northland. Hmm, wonder where my inbred love of a light blue and silver color combo comes from…?
piles of rubble at northland shopping center photo by toby weiss
Here was a sobering moment.
A rubble mountain had sprung up in the middle of the lower level parking lot (above). At peak, it’s easily 25 feet tall, possibly taller, since I’m lousy at judging height. It’s a rather long ascent, and once at the top it does provide fantastic photographic views. Then it hit me:
These are remains I’m standing on.
All the busted up concrete and plaster they pulled out of the Famous Barr pit made this temporary landmass. And suddenly I was creeped out and ashamed to be standing atop it.

nothland medical building demolition photos by toby weiss
Got a good perspective on how the upper and lower levels of Northland come together on the southernmost end (above, left) by standing in the outdoor utility stairwell of the Northland Office Building. The patchwork of blue glass that makes up the exterior walls of its stairwells (above, right) are pretty banged up, with some panes missing, but it’s still breathtakingly beautiful to my eyes.

August 13, 2005
I was going to Northland at least once a week to survey, spelunk and photograph, but it started to weigh heavily upon me. So I let some time slip by, to give myself a break from the emotional burden. But I needed to get back with camera and tools to try and salvage as much of the Kresge as was possible for one girl to cart off. I desperately wanted to find something that said Kresge on it, just to have proof that it really existed.
The moment I got off work on this particular Saturday, the sky erupted into a mad, blazing storm that eventually caused massive wind damage and flash flooding throughout most of the St. Louis area. But I drove on, hoping a storm this wicked would quickly blow over.

northland shopping center grocery store demolition photos by toby weiss
And I wondered if the grocery store would still be there. Pictures I’d taken of it on my last visit are above.
northland shopping center demolition photo by toby weiss
It’s still an incessant downpour when I barge through a “Do Not Enter” gate, only to find this empty void among the debris (above). The grocery store was history, vanished into mud. I had so wanted to rescue one of those obscenely bright glazed tiles, but those had probably been ground into dust about 4 days ago. Now it was part of the oozing paste in the hole that was once a grocery store.
northland shopping center demolition photos by toby weiss
And quickly looking to my right, I see that exactly half of Kresge was sliced off (above, left)!
Now, it’s pouring down rain. I have no rain gear and a digital camera that’s allergic to water. I’m stuck in the car until it stops raining. So, I drive around Jennings and Ferguson for about 30 minutes, wondering who’ll stop the rain?
It never stopped.
In the upper level Aldi’s parking lot, I forlornly stared off into the dreary distance at what was left of Kresge’s (above, right). I couldn’t get to the building and its remains, and even when it stopped raining, it would be a toxic muddy mess. I also contemplated the irony of how Northland was now offically 50 years old, making it eligible for Historic Registry…yeah, whatever.
Water dripped down my windshield and my face; I knew it was over for me and Kresge. This was not how I wanted to say goodbye, but that’s how it ended.
This is all becoming too much of a heartache.

August 21, 2005

I return a week later and immediately notice that the large and elaborate Northland sign that officially greeted everyone at the the Lucas & Hunt/West Florissant intersection had been – literally – smashed into the dirt (above). They hadn’t even bothered to cart away the plastic letters, so what remains of the “R” seen in the foreground is now in the trunk of my car.
northland shopping center demolktion photos by toby weiss
The crew made a broad sweep across the upper parking lot, knocking down rows of light poles (above, left). It looked a bit like a razor had run across a beard, and left a fine layer of broken glass everywhere, like powdered sugar on a lemon bar.
The tower that accents the south arm of Northland (above, right) is still standing tall, but they have prepared the store fronts for the final blow by removing all glass and interior contents.

walgreens at northland shopping center demolition photos by toby weiss
The detritus of demolition has featured many a poignant and/or odd sight (above, left).
And the “opening up” of the former Walgreens (above, right) once again reveals how airy that space had once appeared from the sidewalk. With a footband of blue green tile, topped by panels of smooth stone and bookended by flagstone columns, it was certainly the most sophisticated Walgreens store, materials-wise.

kresges at northland shopping center demolition photos by toby weiss
With heavy heart, I made the trek across the wreckage of the parking lot to where Kresge once stood. On the upper level, it’s northernmost wall still stood (above), reminding me of some ancient ruin as it stood among its fallen parts. I stood for a long while in these remains, but didn’t have the heart to poke around for treasure. I was a bit too numb.
northland shopping center bowling alley demolition photos by toby weiss
So I walked around and down to the lower level. The space that was the Ambassador nightclub was formely a bowling alley, and since they were currently crushing it, long-buried bowling pins (above, left) were scattered among the asbestos-crusted construction shards.
northland shoping center bowling alley demolition ambassador photos by toby weiss
The lower level West arm in the middle of being beaten to the ground (above).

So far, this sections demise has been the most colorful, because these store fronts had retained more of it’s original store fronts, including the coral pink Vitrolite (above).

Here comes another sobering moment.
(Above, left) This area tucked under a “lattice work” stainless steel canopy once housed a popular music store, a cobbler and Worth’s clothing store. To the right of this picture (taken about a month previous) is the lower level Kresge display windows.
(Above, right) Standing in roughly the same position, the tree is still standing and…that’s about it. And here’s exactly where it became too much for me to bear…


As I stood ankle deep in the rubble (above) of what was my beloved Kresge, I literally lost it. I doubled over with stomache pain and cried and wailed with grief. And it surprised me.

I’ve been surverying and photographing Northland since March 2002. Away from the site, the sentimental angle takes over, but while “working the site,” my historical, architectural and photographic eye is in play. I seldom get too too emotional about it because I have documentation work to attend to. But at this very moment, my heart broke into a hundred pieces and tears literally dropped into the dust as I bent over trying to catch my breath. The eternal “goneness” of it all hit me too hard, and at the wrong time. I just lost the strength or the urge to continue on. I just wanted it to be over, because I was tired of smelling, seeing and shooting the corpse. I was numb from attending The Longest Wake.

Maybe ten minutes later, the emotional drama and physical drain subsided and I trudged on. I’d come too far in this self-appointed project to stop now.
And we find Lunch Among the Ruins (above, left), and the Rubble Mountain becoming just as wide as it is tall (above, right).


The lower level of the South arm is also prepped for crushing (above, left & right).
And I marvel yet again at the massing of space and place that is just one of the West Florissant entrances to Northland (below). It literally looks and feels like a section of any downtown city.


September 4, 2005

Oddly enough, the bank (above, left) is still open for business. Obviously, money talks. But how creepy is it for the folks working there?
When we invade the orange plastic fence boundary (above, right)


…to check out the deconstruction details. There is now an unobstructed view from the upper level to the Northland Office Building on the lower level (above, left). And has been their consistent policy, the demolition company places their sign (above, right) on the section that will be crushed next. This tower is the last remaining sign post of the main shopping center. It’s obliteration will be another sore point for me. Not looking forward to it, while also wishing they’d just hurry up and put the horse down…

Where Famous Barr was (above) is now filled in with all its own remains. This area was 3 stories deep. It’s now maybe a half-story deep. And looking across north, it’s just flat ground. It’s depressing. But at least it’s over.

Southernmost lower level “sketch”, above.

The demolition crew was using Office Building as it’s cool zone during the intense heat wave of early August. But now they’ve begun stripping and throwing out the interior of the building, leaving a ring of trash along all sides of its perimeter (above, left). And they’ve begun peeling off the the metal sun screens that gives the building its distinctively modern look (above, right). Paint lines show these panels were once blue green, but I don’t remember that at all. Though the thought of this color in horizontal bands against the white building sounds appealing. Many people mistakenly assume that modern architecture means stark white, and from Le Corbu to Northland, that simply wasn’t the case. Color and texture played a large part in shaping the spaces.

(Above, left) Hauling in the dumpsters also means the medicine ball is coming. I’m positive this is my last moment with Office Building (and a solo entry on it will also be forthcoming). I’m in no hurry to get back to the site because it’s just too large of a brain and heart drain. Almost 3 weeks weeks will pass before I can get back, and this demolition crew is fast and effcient. Everything will be gone by the time I get back. I dread the moment, but I will return.rf

Northland Demolition Continued

WHERE IT STOOD ON 6.19.05
northland shopping center demolition photos by Toby Weiss
Here’s where we left off, and now let’s continue…

northland shopping center demolition photos by Toby Weiss
On the upper level looking north (above, left) & south (above, right) onto what was and what’s left of Famous-Barr.

northland shopping center demolition photos by Toby Weiss

(Above, left) I’m standing “inside” the FB now, about the level of the roof of the sub-basement and looking up at the “Blow Out Sale” store front. Standing in the same spot, I look up to my left and the escalator still strains to take me to the second floor (above, right). I look down to my left and study the massive pile of building debris tumbling into the bottomless dark basements waaay below ground. I swear I see pieces of what I covet dearly: the stainless steel that made up the “Northland” sign. As I start to climb down the pile to investigate further, I realize I’m breaking the very first rule of Demolition Spelunking:

Do Not Do It Alone!
There must be someone else around to at least know you disappeared in the building and alert the authorities.

I’m by myself, crap! But my chances of getting one of those mangled letters is right before me – 70/30% chance of success.
A few more steps down the shifting pile, and I get a vision of the suffocating horror of the 30%, and stop.
Crap! But a letter is right there, I swear it!
I’m supposed to be at my Pop’s Father’s Day BBQ in Brighton, IL in 40 minutes, and I’m not supposed to be getting these clothes dirty (too late), and I probably should also arrive in one piece… I had to let it go.
It still hurts.
So does watching this.

northland shopping center demolition photos by Toby Weiss

Even as the place whittles away, it’s still an architectural love affair. I can’t get over something so modern, sleek and strong (above left) being torn down. And I see the old, whimsical wiring get up (above right), and marvel that the place hasn’t half burnt to the ground.

northland shopping center demolition photos by Toby Weiss
(Above) Against what’s left of the upper level wall, staring down to the lower level.

WHERE IT STOOD ON 6.27.05
northland shopping center demolition photos by Toby Weiss

Letters and stars are history (above right), as the rest of the building now looks like a picked-over Thanksgiving turkey. Upper level at the former Kresge’s/McCrory’s (above right), demolition workers pulled all remaining interior trash out to the curb, which then sprouted an absurdist lawn mower blooming atop the greenery.

northland shopping center demolition photos by Toby Weiss

Most all of the lights still burn at night, which gives the place a submarine feel, an underwater eeriness. On the north side of the lower level, I get to see interiors that I could only half make out during daylight (above left, former Worth’s/Studio 150). And the promenade towards what was Famous-Barr (above right) features perfectly lit destruction.

northland shopping center demolition photos by Toby Weiss

(Above left) Lower level south side, looking at the rounded bank and a (long-blocked) stairwell up to the top level. It was an aresting sight, especially the light on inside the utility area to the left of the stairs, which felt oddly warm and inviting.

(Above right) Man, I so want this in my backyard!

WHERE IT STOOD 7.04.05
northland shopping center demolition photos by Toby Weiss

(Above right) The Northland Bowl sign reappears!
The (now-vacated) Ambassador took down one of their signs, and unearthed both the original name and function of the building that was attached to Northland’s lower level north side in 1967.

northland shopping center demolition photos by Toby Weiss

(Above left) Upper level north next to what was the FB, the former Baker’s Shoes/Kingsbury’s Shoes literally stands at the edge of the abyss.
(Above right), standing in the FB pit and looking up at the same store.

Even though I’m painfully sad over this loss, it’s been fascinating and absorbing to see the physical bones of the place, construction details, how damn solid it is…was. I wonder if any of the men who helped build the place 49-50 years ago have come out to watch it be taken apart?

northland shopping center demolition photos by Toby Weiss

(Above left) Lower level of the former Kresge’s, and I never run into anyone inside these buildings while I’m there during the day. They must only come out at night. But no one cares about this site, so they could very well spray paint freely while the crews are at lunch…
And it’s getting hard to travel Northland by car because they have closed off most all of the entrances and roads (above right) around this massive place. Also note the big, beautiful 50-year old tree. Sorry, goodbye.

Here’s some thoughts from other people about Northland. I’ve also received some wonderful notes from folks who grew up in the area, and are now watching it leave via my photos and/or their special Goodbye Treks to the place. Thanks for sharing how much you loved the place, too.
More to come.