Northland Demolition Part 4

Posted on 09/16/2005 by Toby Weiss

July 31, 2005
The last visit was July 26th.

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.

(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.

Demolition debris can’t help but be poetic in its descent. In person, the flow of the plaster and brick (above) was balletic.

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.

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.

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…?

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.

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.

And I wondered if the grocery store would still be there. Pictures I’d taken of it on my last visit are above.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

Buildings Unfolding

Posted on 07/31/2005 by Toby Weiss

3819 South Grand, near Chippewa
St. Louis, MO
We can watch How Buildings Learn if we leave them be, unfolding organically with passing time. A good building will always be useful, if not always aesthetically correct. We’ve all seen atrocious new facades slapped onto old commercial buildings (the cedar shingle craze of the early 1970s is horrifying), but we’re also blessed with graceful re-dos (Vitrolite storefronts in the 1930s & ‘40s) and bold transitions, like the building above.

I wish I knew more about this building than what is apparent. A 3-story turn-of-the-20th house became pregnant with a commercial building. No cheesy attempts to integrate the traditional with the modern were tried; each part was left to be what it needed to be. And the addition is an ultra-modern structure that I love a little too much. Its simple lines are writ large and confident, its textures both radical and respectful of the house it nurses on. Remove it from this spot, plop it anywhere else (Palm Springs) and it would still radiate jet set dentist cool.

The place has been spit shined (though I miss the green vines crawling up the yellow plastic screen wall) and put up for sale. There’s not a chance in hell that this building will remain as it has grown. Should a new owner decide to faithfully rehab the house, the Chevron Charmer is toast. Please let it be for sale for quite a long time.

Five Star Senior Center
2832 Arsenal, St. Louis, MO
Just a scootch east of Gravois is this beauty, an architectural trifecta.
From top to bottom: 1890’s, 1930’s, 1950’s.
It’s an intriguing history of shop owner renovations, with each new layer preserving just enough of the previous to make it an affectionate family scrapbook.

While taking these photos, folks started arriving at the building, and one of them turned out to be the building’s owner, who was genuinely happy to meet someone who got its charm. Michael W. Howard is executive director of Five Star Senior Center, a not-for-profit that provides meals, transportation and social activities. When he bought the building to renovate into Five Star’s new home, the city wanted him to peel it back to its 1890 self. Mr. Howard wanted to keep it as is, and challenged the city to come up with proof of what it once looked like.

At this point I mentally flipped out: This man put up a fuss to keep this building as it grew!? He’s my new hero!
Not only did the city let him be, but he worked with Grubbs & Associates architects to polish up the multiple exteriors and to fully gut and renovate the interior of the ground floor.
Oh, man, he’s architecturally god-like!
I was slightly dazed with awe when he gave me a tour of the inside. It was designed with a strong and tasteful open plan, with gorgeous morning light streaming into the front sitting room and administrative offices. Expansive entry arches and substantial moldings flowed back through to the large dining hall. Upon complimenting him on how thorough and handsome the details are, he said he didn’t want to just slap up drywall and partitions, he wanted to do it properly, which is why he hired an architect (not a contractor, but an architect) to help him with his intent for the place.

And because of this kind of thought about the environment he wanted to create for the seniors, he created a space that felt alive and welcoming, full of self-esteem and smiles. Mr. Howard has added another chapter to the story of this building, allowing it to continue unfolding. Bravo!

Northland Demolition Part 3

Posted on 07/26/2005 by Toby Weiss

Today’s visit to the Northland demolition site was about absence. Review this to see what was once anchoring the middle right portion of the above picture. There are now two loose ends with an enormous gaping hole between them.

On my last visit to the site, this building (above) was still standing. It was originally the post office. Note the cut-out on the left end of the building that was the loading dock, and how the enitre packge is very Neutra in line and execution.

Ignore the absurd cap that was put on its front (above) when it became a Family Dollar, and note the placement of simple geometry to indicate entry, lobby and main body. The area where the handicap parking sign stands now was once a decorative concrete block sunscreen. That was a very popular form of solar protection in the late ’50s/early ’60s, (and is still seen widely in Southern California), and protected the lobby from the harsh sun, at least until central air was installed.

Today, all that’s left of the building is….nothing. Just this shallow hole of dirt in the blacktop. 22 days ago, there was a building, and now there’s nary a tiny remnant. How in the hell did they demolish and clean up so fast? They’re still picking away at the carcass of the Famous-Barr building, while this one just vanished into thin air!

(Above) The last two original outlot buildings (Rapps/Schnucks to the left, Famous-Barr Automotive to the right) can obviously be dispensed of just as quickly as the post office. Considering how quickly they’re now moving, I need to visit the site once a week. But it’s getting harder to get onto the site, as they’ve blocked off all but 2 of the many entries. No matter how or when, something tells me this is the final photo of these buildings.

Harris Armstrong For Sale

Posted on 07/20/2005 by Toby Weiss

Harris Armstrong was St. Louis’ most famous modern architect. Some in-tact examples of his work include (above left) a residence in South St. Louis up behind the Donut Drive-In on Chippewa, and a commercial building (above right) on Brentwood, across from Brentwood Square. Some of his remuddled buildings include the U-Haul skyscraper at Kingshighway & Hwy 44, and the former Library Ltd./Borders building at Forsyth & Hanley in downtown Clayton. Should architect Andrew Raimist gets some free time, he will unleash a proper book on the work of Harris Armstrong, which would cover a prolific 4-decade career of residential and commerical Midwest Modernism.

A Harris Armstrong-designed house from 1951 is for sale in Kirkwood. My lovely friend Marla had previously waved her Modern Magic Wand and gave me my first true taste of Lustron; now she graciously allowed me and an interior designer pal to get a peek inside an Armstrong.

It’s the lead house of a cul-de-sac off Woodlawn Avenue, with 3 bedrooms, 1.5 baths, 2-car garage and an asking price of $249,000. From the front, its lines are very spare and the detail of the wood beams under the eave of the roof continuing uninterrupted through a large expanse of glass and into the living room is a nice touch.

The backside of the house severely lacks the subtle drama of the front, and that much brown becomes depressing. I refrained from scratching through some wood planks to find the original paint color, and while Armstrong favored natural colors for private residences, something tells me this brown was not it.

Inside, the entry foyer (above left) packs a bit of suburban ranch punch, though someone added a clumsy plywood guest closet at some point, breaking up the brick lines.
There’s plenty of light spilling into the living and dining room, and the stairs (above right) leading up to the bedroom level politely thrust at a jaunty little angle.

2 original light fixtures remain; one in the living room (above left) and the other above the entrance to the tiny, galley kitchen (above right).

The only true Armstrongian touches are the handsome, floating cabinetry (above left) and a built-in window seat (above right) in the living room. After that, everything about the house was utterly normal and somewhat bland because of years of familiarity with this house type. Even though it’s a good size for a family of three, our current American standards of acceptable square footage makes the house seem small.

The designer pal summed it up best when he said the house looked like Armstrong had made a quick sketch of an idea and then handed it off to a builder. That most of the other houses in this cul-de-sac are slight variations on the theme (see next door neighbor, below), shows the builder ran with the idea, even improved upon it.

So, is the house really worth $249K?
Marla said $210K is about right for the immediate area, so the pedigree jacks up the price.
With a different exterior paint color (or two) and some extensive cleaning,* it would be a sharp, split-level ranch house that Harris Armstrong paid a bit of attention to.

* When a realtor suggests improvements, it’s not to pass judgement, but to make the house attractive to buyers, which makes it sell faster, which then benefits everyone involved. If the realtor should mention taking a quick swipe to yards of cobwebs on the exterior, man, you really should. It’s the least you could do if you want to sell the house for anywhere near the asking price.

Northland Demolition Continued

Posted on 07/08/2005 by Toby Weiss

WHERE IT STOOD ON 6.19.05

Here’s where we left off, and now let’s continue…

On the upper level looking north (above, left) & south (above, right) onto what was and what’s left of Famous-Barr.

(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.

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.

(Above) Against what’s left of the upper level wall, staring down to the lower level.

WHERE IT STOOD ON 6.27.05

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.

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.

(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

(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.

(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?

(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.

Celebrate STL

Posted on 06/21/2005 by Toby Weiss

Original Keller Drugs marquee
Photo by Ken Konchel
In a previous post, helpful commentators filled in the missing info on the Hardt Building, and I finally found the photo of the old sign. It’s from the postcard version of a print by my absolute favorite architectural photographer under the age of 90 (Julius Shulman being my favorite, and he’s about 93), Ken Konchel.
Big bear hugs to Mr. Konchel for gladly allowing me permission to run his photo.

The Royale
South Kingshighway @ Juniata, St. Louis, MO
They installed the coolest bike rack!!!
It’s advertising and public art for the new tavern, and convenient for imbibing urban bikers. All this without being forced to do so by laws we don’t have. Well played, and much appreciated.

James S. McDonnell Planetarium
Forest Park, St. Louis, MO
It’s the first day of summer, and I’m all aquiver with excitement over Mother Nature’s promise, when the one thing that stopped me dead in my tracks was the man-made Planetarium. It’s such a pure shape, elegant in its simplicity.
To my mind, the STL Modern Troika is the Arch, the Planetarium and Busch Stadium. They represent a 5-year period where St. Louis made assured and cultured statements with its civic architecture. For a brief moment, our city was emboldened by the future, and on this gorgeous summer day, I saw this sight (above), and felt the same.

Northland Shopping Center

Posted on 06/16/2005 by Toby Weiss

Northland Shopping Center
Lucas-Hunt Road & West Florissant, Jennings, MO
Northland is a personal and architectural obsession of mine. If you want back story and photos, go here. An architect pal o’mine understands my obsession, and I thank him for publishing wreckage updates when I couldn’t bear to. In this space, I will visit various aspects of Northland’s demise, but for this moment, some hard news.

Wednesday, June 15th was the Ambassador’s last night of business at Northland. They are still trying to find a new location, and are even contemplating building a new place from scratch since relocating has turned into more of a hassle than anticipated.

As Northland dies and Buzz Westfall’s Plaza on the Boulevard rises from the ashes, Sansone is actively recruiting tenants to fill in the details of what Target and Schnucks will anchor. The Ambassador (and a subsidiary of Spruill’s International Catering) wanted to sign on with the Plaza, which seems like a win/win situation for all parties involved.

But the Ambassador was given a “no thanks.”
London’s Wing House – a successful outlot building nestled right into the West Florissant and Lucas-Hunt corner – must also leave (and this, after the owner dropped a big chunk of change on remodeling).

The Ambassador, Spruill’s and London’s Wing House are privately owned minority businesses with a sizeable and loyal clientele. They kept Northland alive for the last several years. But they are not corporate chains, so they are not welcome at Buzz Westfall’s Plaza on the Boulevard.

Even though this news doesn’t shock me, it still really pisses me off.

To Wellston

Posted on 06/09/2005 by Toby Weiss

Martin Luther King Dr. & North Kinshighway
St. Louis has racial divide in its DNA, and the history of St. Louis County is also the tale of White Flight. After WW2, the new world of tomorrow sprang up, and the architecture was as modern and adventurous as the future promised to be. On both sides of the city/county line, sleek samples of progress ushered folks into the suburban frontier, and all our inner-ring suburbs – especially on the north side – retain amazing examples of that promise because they were abandoned soon after they were built by Whites leapfrogging over Blacks on their way to deep county. Wellston is a perfect example of progress-to-stagnation Caucasian-Modern architecture.

Start with this excellent site, then motor west on Martin Luther King Dr. from downtown. In the mid-1950s, Sherman Park was given some future polish with googie pavillions for the sports field and the Wohl Community Center moved from across the street and into the park proper. The center still features an indoor pool wing, with sliding glass doors at ground level to let in fresh air, and massive expanses of glass block above that. In person, it’s an overwhelming sight.

Martin Luther King Dr. between Hamilton & Hodiamont
Right before the county line at Hodiamont is the remains of the JC Penney’s, which closed around 1975. My father was a glazier, and remembers installing mirrors in the building in 1950, and at that time it was still an old-fashioned department store. So, the “Le Corbu” facade was tacked on sometime in the mid-1950s, at the height of the Wellston Shopping District’s popularity.

This building is still space-age triumphant in its decay, and while photographing it in 2003, I talked with a man who claimed to own it. He said the building was still in good condition, with only minor water damage on the top floor, and he’d like to turn it into a black history museum.

Evergreen & Martin Luther King Dr.
Another case of an old building getting a post-war face lift, in this case a streamlined deco in the late 1940s. This was the first Central Hardware in the county, just a block and a half past the city line. Its last incarnation was as Aalco Plumbing Supply.

Kienlen & Martin Luther King
Right as Skinker becomes Kienlen and city becomes county, banking becomes dramatic.
The advertising tower was there when it was tiny, old-fashioned Sky Bank. In the early 1950s, a brown and black granite facade was added to the (then) Easton side and it became State Bank. Automobiles strangled the street cars, so the glorious turquoise tile drive-thru addition was added in the early 1960s.

I was so smitten with the car-culture aqua-ness of it all, that I didn’t notice the sophisticated geometry of the addition until I shot it in black & white. I adore this building, and it’s at the point where the security guards (it’s now a Regions Bank) ignore me as I document every fine detail of the defunct drive-thru aisles.

And I document this because I know it will all come down. New buildings have been slowly going up around the Wellston Hub, and there is a grand plan. Historic preservation being what it currently is, if any saving gets done, it will be only of buildings retaining any of their pre-WW1 architecture. But this entire district was all about progress and commerce, and the old buildings sporting their mid-century makeovers say more about our former aspirations and dreams than any old wives tales a This Old House rehab would spin. I think it’s important to tell all of the story, and Wellston is a particularly juicy chapter.

B.E.L.T.

Built Environment in Layman's Terms

Category Archives: mid-century modern commercial