Harris Armstrong Halloween

Posted on 10/13/2009 by Toby Weiss

True Story:
Today, I passed by two different Harris Armstrong houses and both were totally decked out for Halloween.

The one above is part of a Kirkwood cul-de-sac wherein every house is from the architectural office of Armstrong. I got a peek inside this house when it was for sale, and you can take the tour here.

And this one is in South St. Louis City. Loves the skeleton climbing down the ladder on the 2nd-story chimney. If you’d like to see the inside of this home, take the tour here. And have a Happy Harris Halloween!

2 More Gasometers Coming Down

Posted on 09/27/2009 by Toby Weiss

Interstate 44 near Shrewsbury Exit
St. Louis, MO

As reported by the Webster-Kirkwood Times, the two gasometers that mark the boundary between St. Louis City and County are currently being demolished.

The natural gas storage tanks owned by Laclede Gas were erected in 1925 and 1941, and have been inactive since 1995. They sit on just under 6-acres of land, which was purchased by a development firm that plans to grade and seed the soon-to-be-vacant property so it looks “nice” while trying to attract a new owner to build on the site.

I’d like to know if the property developers even considered selling the property as-is, just in case there’s an entity out there that would like to re-use these iconic and impressive structures for other purposes. Considering the current commercial real estate market, they may be sitting on this property for a bit, so they have some time play with, and could possibly save themselves demolition fees if a buyer wanted the gasometers to remain.

Are there other uses for such unusual structures? Vanishing STL covered the demolition of another gasometer in St. Louis City, and in another post about its history, he shares information about how Vienna, Austria re-purposed four of theirs.

Granted, the highway has locked these gasometers into a remote location surrounded by industrial, so that could limit the scope of new use, but limitations are what inspire some of the most compelling ideas. It’s depressing that, yet again, there is a willful lack of imagination and possibility about high-profile structures that are part of the Greater St. Louis history. And there is one more opportunity to squander our last remaining gasometer near Goodfellow, in North St. Louis City.

I wanted to document how most of us experience these twin towers: sturdy yet delicate-looking guide posts along the highway that change size, color and texture with the distance, time of day or weather. Their absence will matter, and they will be missed.

Tiny Medical Buildings

Posted on 09/06/2009 by Toby Weiss

As a kid, I was always fascinated by this building because it was just my size. It was like a little doll house plopped onto the black top parking lots of the buildings surrounding it on West Florissant in Country Club Hills. When I went back to visit it in 2002 to take the photo above, I was struck by how antiquated the notion of a single doctor working out of a cracker box seems today. For at least the last 30 years, our doctors are bunched together in large office buildings built for just that purpose, and the care within can be just as impersonal and confusing as those buildings.

This 1,152 s.f. building from 1956 was the office of Dr. Hubert S. Pruett (who once played with the St. Louis Browns!). In 1963, the space was labeled The Sheldon Medical Building, as if it were to house more doctors, but it remained the private practice of Dr. Pruett until Dr. Samuel G. Ramirez took over in 1975.

With the Sheldon back in my consciousness, I started noticing the plethora of tiny medical buildings dotting St. Louis. Like the one above, at 9717 Manchester, in Rock Hill. In 1953 it was the office of dentist Albert Thomas. By 1963, chiropractor Elizabeth J. Lochner took over, and took care of patients well into the early 1990s.

There are many intriguing things about these tiny medical buildings. For instance, they tend to be at the far limits of St. Louis City and the inner-ring suburbs, so were built in the mid-century with cars in mind. Private practice doctors followed the population out to St. Louis County, and while their patients were buying bigger homes, the doctors were content with less than 2,000 s.f.

Most interesting of all is that even in the midst of our square foot gluttony, most of these match boxes are still used today, and quite often the use stays in the health care realm.

This office at 9846 Manchester in Rock Hill fits the Tiny Medical Building M.O., but actually opened in 1952 as Woodard Rug Cleaners. But by 1963, the true nature of this building was realized when Alfred W. Moller opened his veterinarian practice. Hey, human or animal, it’s still medical care, right? It became West Side Animal Clinic in 1972, and as you can see, they are still there to this very day.

An early example of what would become the standard of group physicians is shown above, at 2730 Watson in the Clifton Heights neighborhood of South St. Louis City. From 1958 – 1980 it housed multiple physicians and optometrists (for humans), then it became a veterinary clinical laboratory until the mid-1990s. Today, the office facing onto Southwest Avenue belongs to a chiropractor, so it went full circle back to the humans.

These medical offices also highlight the rapidly changing nature of 20th century American medical practice, which is really more the story of health insurance. Up to the 1930s, doctors made house-calls, but with the advent of Blue Cross & Blue Shield insurance from 1930-1940, companies could buy into tax-free policies for their employees, and the need for more doctors increased. With this growth of supply and demand, commercial insurance companies were finally ready to join in, increasing the number of insured from 20,662,000 in 1940 to nearly 142,334,000 in 1950.

These tiny medical offices were built for general practitioners who finally had a chance to make real money and care for their patients with total autonomy. But by 1964, the numbers of doctors going into general practice were dwindling, with the focus moving over to medical specialists. A solution for both general and specialized medicine to financially prosper was enacted in 1973 as the Health Maintenance Organization, and became the large HMO buildings so many of us visit today.

This huge shift in the medical industry to group health care made these tiny medical buildings obsolete for private practice. It’s a deep irony that some of these buildings now house medical specialists, like the office (above) at 3185 Hampton in South St. Louis City. But here’s a spin on this type of building: it was built in 1962 for American National Insurance, who used the building until 1990, when it became the City Spinal Center. So even when the contents start off differently, these mid-century modern cubes just broadcast a medical nature. Or actually, it would be merely a snapshot, as this medical period only lasted roughly 15 years.

I am continually impressed with the adaptive re-use of these tiny buildings; most don’t stay vacant for too long. Then again, depending on where they are, they are also highly vulnerable to demolition. This little gem of concrete, cubist mid-century modernism (above) at 7810 Natural Bridge Road was being prepped for demo when I took this photo in 2005. It started life as a doctor’s office, and by the end of its run, it held a carpenter’s shop and a travel agency. So, the building was still useful, but it was in the area surrounding the University of Missouri-St. Louis, and was taken down for some vague reason still unresolved.

But the majority of tiny medical buildings remain to this day. Shown above is the place built for dentist Conrad J. Zoeller in 1954, at 9300 Gravois Road in Afton, MO. He worked from this 748 s.f. office until the mid-1990s, and it was recently a hearing center until it – or rather its parking lot – found a whole new use as a produce stand!

Today, because of the health insurance industry, the medical profession is in worse shape than its former buildings. Doctors can’t practice as responsibly and freely as they did when in these little stand-alone buildings, while their buildings keep finding a way to help humans and their pets.

Even the little building on West Florissant that first opened my eyes to this short chapter of medical architecture still has a healthy, beating heart. It is now a hair care center, ingeniously divided up as a barber shop through one entrance and a beauty salon through the other. Here’s hoping that in the next couple of years, our health care system can transition into adaptive re-use as flexibly as its former buildings do.

Put On A Happy Face

Posted on 08/28/2009 by Toby Weiss

N. Rock Hill Road
Webster Groves, MO

Painters going in for the second coat of a saturated, perriwinkle purple on a home beside the train tracks. Yeah, the roof needs some attention – structure- and shingle-wise – and replacement windows are overdue. But that type of maintenance costs.

Paint is the cheapest form of instant gratification, and in this case, mood enhancement. The owners are thinking “put on a happy face;” the neighbors may be thinking “send in the clowns.” I think there ought to be clowns.

One thing I love about New Orleans’ neighborhoods is their warm and abundant embrace of vibrant house colors. This purple addition to the yellow neighbor is a mini-recreation of that Big Easy feeling in the Webster Groves hills.
Thank you for doing this.

Bob’s Liquor

Posted on 06/18/2009 by Toby Weiss

I am so happy to have run across this picture I took a couple of years before “Bob” spiffed up his sign.

Oh, he respected the essence of it, so it’s still recognizable, and I’m glad he cared enough to invest some money in keeping the signage intact. Just glad to have a momento of it in the seedier days.

So, let’s test your liquor store knowledge…. where exactly is Bob’s Liquor?

ArtSpace at Crestwood Plaza

Posted on 05/02/2009 by Toby Weiss

Crestwood Plaza, Watson Road & Sappington
Crestwood, MO

When’s the last time you went to Crestwood (yes, I know it has a new name but it will always be to me) Plaza? Judging by how dead the place was, I’m guessing “don’t remember” would be a common answer.

Even before Macy’s permanently closed the doors in March 2009, one had to dodge the tumbleweeds blowing through. Walking through the mall made me think of Dawn of the Dead, waiting for zombies to pop out of what used to be Walden’s Books and rip my arm off.

It used to be ultra creepy, now it’s “come in and play” because the owners of this dying mall followed through on some creative thinking, and they may just wind up making more money from this new venture than any attempts to revive it as a retail destination.

ArtSpace just threw a grand opening party, and everything about it was inspiring and delightful. Just to see the parking lots full and people crowding the mall was a minor miracle. That the hubub was for cultural arts rather than vacant consumerism was a major miracle.

I was itching to check out this brilliant adaptive re-use idea during the formative stage, but just never got around to it, as Crestwood Plaza was still creeping me out. So, throwing this party assured there would be live human beings around to keep me safe. Another incentive was to see the photography of Robert “Ferd” Frank (he was John Mellencamp’s bassist back when he was Cougar), whose work is displayed – and for sale – within Design Extra Interiors (photo above).

Yes, there’s a full-service interior design firm in the mall. It just makes so much sense that you have to wonder why this hasn’t happened before!

Remember all the art studios in downtown St. Louis before the loft rehab boom? That same concept in urban vertical has now gone suburban horizontal. All of the empty spaces inside the mall are renting for insanely cheap prices to anyone willing to put their own money and sweat equity into re-purposing dead retail spaces (where – as above – dressing room doors become display space) . That’s insane amounts of square footage already tricked out with everything you need in a setting designed for high traffic with maximum visibility.

Along with all the merriment of the day, I took perverse delight in Structure becoming Three-Legged Productions…

…and Mrs. Fields serving as advertising for the dance hall across the way…

…and Frederick’s of Hollywood goes Chicque.

There’s still a handful of “real” retail in business like Footlocker, Victoria’s Secret and Claire’s Boutique, but on this day those stores were pretty dead because there was too much excitement elsewhere. Actually, “dead” would be a normal day for Claire’s at Crestwood, but that’s the beauty of this venture: any of the retailers who have hung on will certainly reap the benefits of increased traffic.

And because the place is alive with music, and performers and playful shenanigans, it will inspire folks to make spontaneous purchases of arts, crafts and glitter lip gloss and Kenmore appliances.

As I was taking the photo above, a lady walked up to me and said, “When I moved to St. Louis in 1965, this was the place to be. It’s been painful to watch it die. But today, I’m feeling like it can become that again, and I couldn’t be happier.” Then she caught sight of a stilt-walker sauntering by and drifted off with a huge smile on her face.

A Kirkwood Rainbow

Posted on 03/28/2009 by Toby Weiss

E. Clinton & S. Fillmore
Kirkwood, MO

Some remodeling work is being done to typical post-WW2 bungalow in Kirkwood. While vinyl siding can – technically – be painted, it’s usually a short-lived solution. So, I have the feeling the place is being spruced up to go up for sale.

I love that the paint crew left behind this rainbow display, and much like a real rainbow, it was a beautiful but fleeting thing. After a couple of peacock days, the siding is now 100% conservatively beige.

There’s a Crayola box of vinyl siding colors available, but the vast majority go with white, off whites, grays and beiges. Considering that a certain type of new homes (that were) being built are nothing but a tall, plain box encased in vinyl (even the chimney – man that’s unattractive), why not add some much needed interest with multiple colors of vinyl? Imagine it: a white ground with different accent colors, decorative borders and flourishes?

One can drive through other parts of Kirkwood and see wood sided homes with this type of multi-coloring. And this little guy shows how fun it can be in moderation. Plus, the color of the vinyl does not change the price. So, a re-think on how to display vinyl siding would be a welcome sight.

Childhood Memories of a Ladue MCM Teardown

Posted on 03/22/2009 by Toby Weiss

In Spring 2006, I documented the last days of a Ladue mid-century modern home that was tagged for teardown. It was built in 1950 for Louis and Mary Zorensky, and the undeniable beauty of this home, coupled with its sad fate, sparked a lot of posthumous anger and admiration.

See the departed Zorensky Residence here.

Learn more about what replaced it here (scroll down 30%).

A Google aerial shot of the Zorensky Residence.

Recently, one of the daughters of Louis Zorensky found the B.E.L.T. entry about her childhood home, wrote to say she was moved by the photos, and ask if it was possible to have copies of them.

I sent her a photo CD that included the published photos along with many unpublished extras. I consider it a duty to photographically preserve mid-century modern history, and an honor when some of those photos can preserve treasured family memories, as well.

The same space after the Zorensky Residence was torn down for redevelopment.

Irene and her sister Doris were kind enough to share some of their memories of their life inside this dearly departed home, and I now share them with you. What touches me the most is that you can tear down a home, but love keeps it alive beyond the physical plain.

From Doris Zorensky Cheng

My brother, David, let me know about your website and its incredible pictures of our family home. When I pulled up the website, I was amazed at the photographs and how they captured the essence of its wonderful siting, daring 1950’s architecture, wall planes and roofing following the lay of the land and its modern detailing with lots of glass, overhangs and ins and outs.

Thank you so much for the wonderful comments on your website. My father would have hated to see the house demolished but he would have so appreciated those comments. He loved that house that he and Mom built and took such good care of. He also loved the old trees that had been part of a larger parcel of land that was an arboretum for a previous owner. He worked to preserve them. That some people so appreciated his house would have made him so happy.

I was 7 years old when we moved in. My schoolmates would tell me that they had seen our glass house on Warson Road and how different it was. One person actually told me that people living in glass houses should not throw stones.

Another memory is of my brothers, sisters and me playing pretend in the tall pine tree grove at the front of our house. We also had fun rolling down the hill in the back, especially when there was snow. And then there was the fun modern furniture and the quirky details like the circular planter in the entry hall, the wood cabinet bar area and the radiant heated terrazzo floors that we sometimes sat on to get warm.

But as a child, I did not appreciate the house itself as I can now. Your wonderful photographs helped me see it with a fresh eye. I just wish another family that loved 50’s modern architecture could have bought and preserved it. I am grateful for having your pictures. Thank you so much.

From Irene Zorensky Fowle

Growing up in the Mayview home was an interesting experience. My parents always had a great appreciation for modernism, which was reflected not only in their home but in a remarkable contemporary art collection which they were able to showcase in that home. The large walls and high ceilings, the lovely angles of natural light, the neutral colors, and the overall openness of the home allowed the art to breathe and help define the space; there were no ornate moldings and lots of color to detract from the art.

Obviously, the very open floor plan was quite distinctive. My parents gravitated towards very neutral colors and natural materials .They had unpainted cabinets, natural wood doors, cork floors in the back hallway, beautiful earth-colored terrazzo floors (with delicious radiant heat–especially a treat after playing in the snow)–all avant garde then. They had architecturally simple but very high quality matte chrome and nickel hardware – all of this in a time and geographic locale where shiny brass doorknobs and colonial design prevailed (and still does!!).

It looks like the subsequent owners painted one of the living room walls bright red, and obviously they painted the exterior gray-green covering up the natural brick, redwood trim, and rough limestone that my parents worked so hard to preserve.

My parents had window coverings and curtains that were frequently left wide open to allow the vistas of the trees and landscape to add color and definition to the home. The large, expansive windows also contributed to this openness – my Dad loved the outdoors, both working in his yard and enjoying the views from the house. The land had been an arboretum when my Dad bought it, so most of the large, incredible trees (many of them removed, sadly, for the new house) were there when he bought the land and throughout the 40-plus years my parents lived there . As one of five kids, the three acres were great growing up as we had lots of space to run and sled on the magnificent hill and have hideouts under the great trees.

It was interesting growing up in that house. I always felt different from my friends with their traditional cozier homes, but there was also an inherent pride in that differentness. My mother kept the house spotless and in magnificent condition, and you captured in your blog the found items that revealed my Dad’s habit of never throwing anything away. He kept so many of the original materials from the construction of the house. The archaeological finds you detail – bits of wallpaper, hardware, keys – was so characteristic of my dad. Also, he participated in the architectural design of the home; as a real estate developer, he was also a frustrated architect and a part-time artist. He had a real vision in a time when it was rare to approach home design with such inherent purity and a sense of symbiosis with the land. Your touching photos really capture this! It sounds like the original bathrooms and the kitchen with its meticulous metal cabinets were there to the end, even with the 50’s colors of ceramic tile, etc. in tact.

Also, very striking was the lovely proportion of the house, not only in scale with the lot and the sweep of the land, but also relative to the lovely house across from it–I hope that home does not have the same demise!

I am so grateful that you captured the house. I thought about going in before it was torn down, but I was worried about what the subsequent owners might have done to change the house that was my home, and also, afraid of how painful it might be. Your photo dialogue has really been a great gift to me and my siblings. I wish my mother were well enough to share it with her – she would be very honored and touched. You have made my late dad proud!!!

North County MCM: Halls Ferry Road

Posted on 03/11/2009 by Toby Weiss

Head north on Halls Ferry Road, and on the western side of the unincorporated portion between Jennings and Dellwood, Missouri you will find a large stash of choice mid-century modern homes tucked into the rolling hills. But stay on Halls Ferry, and pay attention to three homes that straddle Hudson Road, like this one, above.

Built in 1958, the 1,607 s.f. home sits on nearly an acre of land. It is unabashedly modern with its multi-levels of flat roofs and large expanses of glass to peer down the steep hill in the front yard. Every time I pass by with a camera, the newest owner is out on his riding mower, and I’m working up the courage to ask him if I can get closer, maybe take some pictures inside.

Two houses down, the original owners are still on the books for this place. Built in 1953, it is the definition of sprawling, clocking in at 2,438 s.f.

The last time I happened by, there was a large dumpster in the driveway, lending the impression of kids clearing out decades of living, though no for sale sign has yet popped up. Recent real estate transactions show that homes in this very immediate area go for insanely cheap rates of $90 – $115,000.

Right next door is a light blue ranch with a full butterfly roof. It went up in 1955 with 1,924 s.f. of space, and again, it appears the original owners may still be in residence.

All of the homes along this stretch have gigantic yards, so many mature trees that I’d worry in a wind storm, and exteriors that show little remuddling damage. While growing up in this part of town, we considered these to be the homes of “rich people.” I’m thinking it was a psychological reaction to the houses sitting so far up from the street atop steep hills. But even today, they are rather luxurious examples of suburban mid-century modern architecture.

My Favorite Walgreens

Posted on 02/08/2009 by Toby Weiss

My favorite Walgreens no longer exists, and this is a highly ironic story.

In South St. Louis City, we’re used to them tearing down bowling alleys so they can build a Walgreens. But in this case, in 2003, they tore down a Walgreens to build another Walgreens! It’s all true.

This mid-century fabulous Walgreens was on Watson, just a scootch east of the intersection of Rock Hill/Elm. This one stayed open while they built a brand new one right at the intersection proper. Once it opened, they tore this one down, and now a short strip mall with a Blockbuster Video stands in its place.

To this day, I still see a phantom image of it as I pass by. It’s roof reminded me of the Flying Nun’s head gear as she was airborn. And it’s still a weird feeling to miss a Walgreens… know what I mean?

B.E.L.T.

Built Environment in Layman's Terms

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