B.E.L.T. is an RFT Best Of!!

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A huge, tears-of-joy sobbing thanks to the Riverfront Times for naming B.E.L.T. the Best Local Website.  And another round of gasping gratitude to all the Facebook friends who broke the news to me on my Wall. That gave me a bigger jolt than the espresso I’d yet finished.

This is especially poignant because I’ve been feeling guilty about not having enough time to post, lately. Plus, I’ve been working on my magnum opus – a mid-century modern study of Hampton Avenue – ALL of Hampton Avenue, which turns out to be much longer and much more cram-packed with MCM goodness than previously known.

I’ve got blisters on my feet from surveying it, the librarians now know me by name from all the City Directory research I’ve been doing, and there’s not enough hours in the day to complete it. And I wonder “WHY do I invest so much time in this avocation?” Then B.E.L.T. gets a nod like this, I feel all Sally Fields-Oscar inside and realize that my love for St. Louis is not a wasted effort.

Deeply, truly – thank you.

Making a Scary Building Friendly?

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I swear I don’t like this building anywhere near as much as it would seem from as much as I write about it. The building actually unnerves me and lots of other folks who grew up in Florissant. Read the original BELT entry about the Halls Ferry Medical Building.

In Summer 2008,  water damage was causing the hat band cornice to crumble and get all gray and yucky, which just added to the building’s macabre allure. Then a tad over a year later, new owners were correcting the problems. Read how the monster building rose from the grave.

Another tad over a year later, and they’ve painted the raised cornice panels a shade of biscuit? Beige? Tan?
Why?

Are they thinking this will make the building seem warmer, more friendly? And does it? This is not a rhetorical question; I have yet to form an opinion other than “paint it all white, maybe?”

They are doing work to the bedraggled parking lot, and had to re-do the original sign to flaunt all their new tenants:

This is nowhere near as cool as the original signage, which was the only friendly thing about the building…

…but I’d rather see a full building than a cool sign on a dead building.

I remain mystified by, and grateful to the new owners who are putting (curious color) thought and money into making this building useful once again. Every new tenant is tax money for Florissant, and I love that they are re-using an existing building (no matter how unnerving) rather than demolishing and building new.  And let’s be frank: to have left this building sitting vacant and rotting would have traumatized a new generation of children in ways far worse than it did us.  So, a round of applause to the new owners, and if they want to take it up a friendlier notch or two and paint the place pink and aqua, I’m on board with it!

Louis Sullivan’s Lions

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705 Olive Street
Downtown St. Louis, MO

St. Louis has an 1893 Louis Sullivan and Dankmar Adler building on the National Register, the Wainwright Building, which ranks as either the first or second (depending on whose counting) skyscraper built. Not as well known (even to my Architectural History & Theory teacher in college!) is that we have a second Sullivan & Adler building that survives to this day. On the northwest corner of 7th & Olive is the building which was designed as the Union Trust Building. Starting in 1902 it began a series of name changes: St. Louis Union Trust, Missouri Trust, Central National Bank, Lincoln Trust, and finally, to the name on its National Historic Landmark plaque, The 705 Building.

It also went through some serious remodeling, including a 1905 addition by Eames & Young on the north end of the building. But the most heinous crime was a 1924 remuddle which scrapped off the exterior of the first two floors. Here’s what it looked like from 1893 to about 1923.

Aside from the circular windows that still survive on the alley side of the building, the upper 13 stories have remained intact, including the lions shown above.

Typically, I dislike parking garages. But when the roof of a parking garage puts me this close to my beloved lions, then I really dig this parking garage, and don’t mind having had to pay $5 to use it!

To the right in the above photo is the Railway Exchange building, where I worked for Famous Barr advertising for 13.5 years. For half that time, we were on the 8th floor, and the Advertising President’s office looked down on these two lions. The the fool sat with his back to them!

When he was out, I’d sneak into his office to gaze lovingly at them; they were both inspirational and a sedative for deadline stress. They also got me in trouble when I was caught hanging out the President’s window with a camera, trying to get a shot without a dirty window between me and the lions.

And now 10 years later, a parking garage that I was forced to use on a Sunday afternoon has given me the closest, clearest access to all the lions. It was the best kind of September Sunday St. Louis Serendipity!

“If I’m feelin’ tomorrow like I feel today…”

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“…I’ll pack up my truck and make my get-away.”

Pedaling on a Sunday morning through that woozy boundary line of The Patch and Carondelet neighborhoods, when the sight above made me hit the brakes. It was the embodiment of an old river city, the poetry of mud and W.C. Handy blues.  The metal chair is now all 5 layers of colors, all decades at once; the past is the present and if you think it won’t see much future, they been sayin’ that since I Like Ike.

The CSB has reams of complaints on this ram-shack-le, plenty claim “Derelicts on Private Property.” In the Great Depression he’d have been out-of-working class – how dare the neighbors cast judgment! …Oh, they were vehicular in nature! Not gonna make a Sanford & Son crack, even though Redd Foxx is a St. Louis native.  Just a couple of Canon shots, hopin’ there’s no slingshot through the metal blinds aiming at my head, and slowly pedal away.

Introducing Modern StL

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The Arch is the global icon of modernism, and it is the front door of St. Louis.  We have a glorious collection of mid-century modern buildings and neighborhoods, and we’re overdue in celebrating and protecting these assets.

This is why we have formed a new non-profit group – Modern StL. We strive for the identification, education, preservation and celebration of St. Louis Modernism. We have plans for many different types of events (how would you like a walking tour of Ridgewood with some words by its architect Ralph Fournier?) and seminars, and swag, and on-line forums and… the possibilities are endless.

The group met for the first time in June, and we’ve only recently incorporated with the state of Missouri. So we have a lot of work ahead of us to make everything official – including levels of membership and our first major event – but in the mean time, we invite you to explore our website in progress:

www.modern-stl.com

To stay in the loop, please follow us on Facebook and Twitter. And we look forward to connecting with all St. Louisans who love St. Louis’ fabulous mid-century modern treasures.

Modern StL Founders (l-r): top row - Nathan Wilbur, Lynn Josse, Michael Allen, Neil Chace, Darren Snow, Jeff King & Dan Semar. Bottom row - Amy Burger, Toby Weiss & Michelle Kodner

Mid-Century Modern Subdivision Crestwood Hills

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Crestwood Hills Subdivision
Crestwood, MO

On Watson Road at Sturdy Dr. – between Sappington and Lindbergh – is this crazy pair of mirrored buildings (Dental Centers North & South) from 1974. They’re festooned with every 1960s commercial architecture trick – even lava rocks! – as if they picked up all the litter after the mid-century party was over and fashioned it into a house dress. One day I got curious about the neighborhood behind these wacky buildings, so headed down Sturdy Drive and landed in a small subdivision dotted with houses like the one above.

Crestwood Hills lays out in, roughly, the shape of a pitchfork, with the spikes ending at East Watson Rd (aka, Hwy 66), encompassing only 6 short streets. County property records show that all of them were built between 1955 – 1957, but the wide and unending variety of styles gives it the look of unfolding over a longer period of time.

It’s apparent that a goodly number of the homes still house the people who originally bought them in the mid-50s. Then there’s an encouraging handful of homes (like the one above) that have been bought in the last few years by younger generations who know what they have, were happy to get it for under $175,000 in desirable Crestwood, and are lovingly reviving its mid-century modern ranch beauty.

Drive through this neighborhood and you’ll get whiplash from trying to take in all the different types of homes. So it’s better for your neck if you walk it, but there are no sidewalks. That’s one hallmark of a classic mid-century suburban neighborhood – they more often than not did away with sidewalks. Was that a budgetary decision? Or was the love affair with how the automobile could transform every fiber of daily life raging so hard that they imagined no one would need never walk again?

But I do love how the automobile figured into the layout of these homes. Even a fairly typical traditional ranch home like this got the carport. And it’s not just a place to park the car, but also sports a utility shed under the sloping roof and a flower planter, with both anchoring the open end of the house. I also love how this carport lends transparency, as you’re able to peer straight into the backyard.

And in the spirit of no two Crestwood Hills houses being exactly the same, the developers used the same basic floor plan for this home, but changed out several details and finishes to make it wholly unique. I’m guessing that screening in the carport was a later remodel by the owners, which is cool. Several of the homes have turned the carport into a garage, which is a standard renovation. But it’s astounding how many of the original carports remain in tact.

And we pause from all this atomic age fabulosity for the Smith Sturdy Cemetery. On East Watson, between  Gayle Avenue and Fox Park Drive, this tiny little burial ground with, maybe, 50 tombstones, just pops out of nowhere. It’s both disconcerting and intriguing, and because I can find no solid background information, it remains a mystery.

There’s a sub-species of homes in this neighborhood that fascinate me because they have no traditional front door. The designers and/or developers just dispensed with such a quaint notion, and planted a chimney where a front door should be.

And here’s another example of how the main entrance to the home is under the carport. Which underscores the new informality that was middle America in the middle of the 20th century; it was perfectly OK for your guests to squeeze between the cars and the house to knock on the door. Think about how many times you’ve been to someone’s house where they leave the overhead garage door open so you can come through the door that leads into the kitchen, rather than the formal front door. Well, with a house like this, you don’t even have to go through the trouble of opening a garage door and exposing all your junk to the world. It just is!

And because of this odd entrance situation, this may be why so many of the homes similar to this one leave the carport intact, because how else would you get in without going into the backyard?

This home highlights what happens if you decide to mess with the basic floorplan and close up that carport. Follow the fascia line to the right of the chimney and you can tell they added on this covered porch around a new front (well, side entrance, actually) entrance. But the driveway still leads up to what was the carport… so how do they get into their house when they get out of the car?

Every other house in Crestwood Hills is a fairly standard sturdy brick ranch home, which was rather clever of the developers; might as well appeal to the traditional as well as the pioneering and recoup the building money as quickly as possible.  But even with a ranch as traditional as this one, above, they throw in a few modern details that lets it blend nicely with the more adventurous homes around it.

Crestwood was once a boom town, increasing its population from 1,645 to more than 11,000 people between 1950 and 1960. They couldn’t build ’em faster than the folks were moving in, but they tried. This neighborhood went up in 2 years, and I admire the richness of variety and detail that went into such a hasty project.

Of interest is that the more traditional homes tend to have basements (above), while the decidedly modern homes are slab on grade. Though sometimes an unassuming brick and vinyl will also be slab on grade. What made them decide to change it up like that? This makes me think they’re may have been more than one developer/builder mining this neighborhood.  If anyone has any background information on Crestwood Hills, please please fill us in!

Remember the house above that walled in its carport and created a porch on the other side? This is what it most likely looked like before the extensive remodel. And I love how they created a semi-circular drive in the front lawn, an ingenious way to get more cars onto the property while also adding a nice new bit of geometry to the overall look.

Look at the generous screened porch on this one! And how the semi-open porch and the completely open car port are embraced by the sweeping roofline. This 1957 home is 1,344 square feet, but it looks so much larger because of the fine balance of indoors and out.

The square footage of all these homes range from roughly 1,200 to 1,500. Back then, for a family moving from the city, it was a step up in elbow room. Somewhere in the 80s and 90s, it was considered too small. But a little over 50 years later, living in under 2,000 s.f. makes all kinds of sense if you want to pay your utility bills and eat. We’re struggling through a Great Recession, but I call it The Great Reset; we were living too large on money we didn’t really have, but the meter’s been reset and, out of necessity, we’re cycling back down into a more modest and humane way of living. And that’s why homes like these – when they’ve managed to survive unscathed by teardowns – become a great asset: we can afford to live in them and they’re beautiful and well-built. Try getting all 3 things like that in a just-add-water cul-de-sac village in the exurbs!

At 1,924 s.f., this appears to be the largest home in Crestwood Hills, and also the most dramatically modern.  Look at those Neutra-esque bent columns holding up the carport! So cool that it (almost) distracts one from the hideous shutters someone slapped onto the home in later years.

The homes in this neighborhood remain so basically intact 50+ years on that it melts my heart. How did they mange this? Is it because of the wide range of styles? Or that it remained such a stable neighborhood for so many decades? I really need to know! So, again, if any of you grew up in this neighborhood or know anything about it, please share some details.

Everyone Loves the Granite City Steel Building Except Granite City

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Granite City Steel Building
State & 20th Streets, Granite City, IL

Head to the very heart of downtown Granite City, Illinois and you can’t miss this building. It’s impressive in its scale, massing, coloring and dominance in the downtown landscape.

I refer to it as The Arch of Granite City, in that it’s loaded with stainless steel, and because it’s the tallest object downtown, it’s always within eyesight and easy to get your directional bearings based on where you are in conjunction to it.  Going back to the stainless steel,  the main entrance on State Street is a riot of burnished silver metal, bordering on over-the-top.

Actually, the whole building flirts madly with kitsch, from the vibrant turquoise metal panels that define one wing and accent another…

…to the geometric grid overload of the window frames along the 20th Street side (they even tart up the promenade ceiling with the random grid pattern).  It gives one the feeling of walking through a monochromatic Mondrian painting, yet it’s never chaotic, just busy like a young middle-level executive eagerly working his way toward upper management.

Though we made need to rethink the “chaotic” part with the discovery of the original color of these metal panels. As we work our clockwise around the building, you will see these vibrant orange metal panels still intact elsewhere. But it is flabbergasting to realize the original designers of this building went for the unabashed, ultimate 1950s color combo of orange and turquoise writ large, and it’s even more astounding that an ultra-macho industry like steel said yes to the concept! It also makes sense that once the Earth Tone 1970s came along, they felt the need to tamp down the Howard Johnson’s exuberance, and I do admire the color choice they made.

Here’s the money shot for everyone who takes a picture of the Granite City Steel Building, and that’s because it’s irresistibly cool. Even people who are not fans of mid-century modern architecture instinctively understand the geometric allure of this view. All the themes of the building meet at the blond brick tower that uses its lone wolf status as an opportunity to interject another rectangular grid as a vertical bas relief.

Do a quick search on Google or Flickr and you’ll see this view several times. Actually, you’ll find a fair amount of photos of this wonderful building because it fascinates St. Louisans. But try to find any information about it – either historically or currently – and it feels like Granite City doesn’t remember that it exists.

When someone like Rob Powers of Built St. Louis (who has the first and definitive overview of the building) can’t find the build date on this building, something’s really off. Granite City has a good website, with a great timeline of the evolution of their city, and of course the Granite City Steel mill is a major plot point, but nary a mention of the huge-ass, vibrantly colored corporate headquarters it built in the heart of downtown. You do see a small glimpse of it on Slide 2 of a July 2006 “Rediscover Downtown” presentation (click the “Downtown Redevelopment Presentation” link at the very bottom of this web page), but even as they talk of turning the part of downtown where it resides into an Arts & Entertainment district, no mention of a building that was surely a big deal on every imaginable level when it was originally built.

(UPDATE: And here comes Michael Allen to the rescue yet again! The building is from 1958 by Sverdrup & Parcel!)

My guess is that the building dates to 1957. From the choice of materials, bold color combination, simple horizontals crashing into soaring verticals, and designed with the car in mind, it is most definitely a late 1950s concoction. Take a look at a Rob Powers photo of the lobby and try to debate otherwise. By the time the 1960s were underway, architectural design became more about unique massing and creating shapes with natural, sedate materials, whereas the 1950s was just giddy with joy. And even though this building does a good job of conveying strength and masculinity, it is also sexually secure enough to revel in some flaming fruitiness in the heart of an old, work-a-day manufacturing town.

I’m also going with 1957 based on the large expansion of the Granite City Steel mill in 1951, which brought more jobs and more citizens, respectively, thus requiring a large corporate office. Plus, the auto parts manufacturer A.O. Smith opened a new plant nearby in 1954, so there was plenty of positive, economic activity to make the expenditure to build a flashy show pony for Granite City Steel a safe bet.

Facing Edison Street is the main entrance to what has always been a bank (until now because it’s vacant). Here you see the untouched bright orange metal panels above the doors.

Because United States Steel bought the place in the early 20s (and renamed it Granite City Works), the rest of the building is still very much occupied. And they have done a fairly good job of keeping it in good condition (save for allowing deterioration on the bank wing). There are no signs of obvious remuddling, and if any building would have earned the wrath of a good ‘ole 1980s make-down, it would have been this place. So, for over 50 years, this building has survived intact because someone made sure that it did.

While large swaths of Granite City have been torn down or run down since its 1970s population peak, this building remains standing and occupied. As Granite City works on reviving their downtown with TIF districts, streetscape beautification, and even a brand-spanking new 3-screen movie theater nearby, this building casts its Atomic Googitude all over the revival.

Yet the city does not acknowledge it in any way that can be found by hours of internet searching. While it was still relatively new, they touted it in their 150 Year Celebration, but today it’s the 100 Ton Turquoise Elephant in the room?

This may well be a classic case of older generations not appreciating something they watched going up in their lifetime, that it has not yet earned historical merit because it’s still considered “new.” Also, the building is not in danger because it’s still serving its original functions, which is heartening. But it’s still curious as to how something so large, so tall, so beautiful, so dramatic and so productive can be so fully ignored by the fine folks of Granite City.

Mid-century modern architecture enthusiasts in St. Louis consider this a destination building, something to be celebrated and admired, especially since all the owners of the building have worked so hard to preserve its mid-century essence. Here’s hoping that Granite City will eventually start throwing some love and pride its way.

Join with City To River on August 18th

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On August 17th, 2010 we get to see the 5 design concepts for The Arch grounds. On Wednesday, August 18th, you should come to the Schlafly Tap Room to see the designs up close and leave your comments.

This event is sponsored by City To River, a grassroots coalition of St. Louis City residents who love our City so much that they are working overtime to make it even better than it already is. This makes me so proud that I get misty eyed. Seriously.

Ray Hartmann was right about City To River when he wrote in the August 2010 issue of St. Louis magazine:

“What’s most amazing about the idea (of removing the highway) is how it’s come forward as the evolving dream of a bunch of heretofore-unknown, regular-guy, not-all-that-connected citizen bloggers. I met with three of them – Rick Bonasch, Paul G. Hohmann and Alex Ihnen – and still can’t tell you who’s in charge. They are as ego-free as any group of activists I’ve met in three decades on the job.”

This Wednesday is your chance to meet these 3 stand-up guys (and all the other wonderful folks in the group), and to see and participate in the future of The Arch grounds and the strengthening of our beloved Matriarch of the Mississippi.

If you’re on Facebook, here’s the invite to the event.

And if all this wasn’t enough to draw you out, there’s also St. Louis Trivia, hosted by Matthew Mourning and Randy Vines!

This is the place to be on Wednesday, August 18th. I’ll see you there!

Mid-Century Fetish: Torch Song

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It is great fortune to have another Joan Crawford film to dissect for its art direction (the previous one being The Best Of Everything), though this film is notorious for soooo many other things that not many notice the details of the scenery being chewed up. In fact, I didn’t notice it the first time I saw this 1953 MGM musical in the 1990s. But much thanks goes to Steve Hayes – the esteemed Tired Old Queen at the Movies – who inspired me to watch this film again.

Here’s Mr. Hayes vivid 3-minute overview of this must-see flick.

The opening credits clue you into the visual delights that will unfold, because the art directors are the justly-legendary Cedric Gibbons and the somewhat forgotten Preston Ames. While Gibbons put a never-to-be-overlooked art deco stamp on MGM movies from the 1930s and 40s, he was contractually given art director credits on all MGM movies until his retirement in 1956. So while he had to approve the look of each film, Torch Song definitely looks like the hand of Ames, who is best known for his collaborations with director Vincenti Minnelli on films such as An American in Paris, GigGi and (to my mind) Bells Are Ringing.

For this overblown Crawford vehicle, it’s as if Ames purposely tried to compensate for the unflagging overwrought plots and performances by grounding the action in sets that looked like catalogs for the best in early 1950s residential modern design. From furniture to lamps to accessories, he found endless ways to upstage Miss Crawford (gasp!) in the hearts of mid-century modern design aficionados.

Miss Crawford’s character Jenny Stewart is a deliciously repugnant battle axe of a Broadway star who obviously makes enough money to afford digs like this. While she prowls and growls at home, the camera takes every opportunity to share the details of her living quarters (where most of the movie takes place), and it is so sumptuous that I often had to rewind to pick up key dialogue that I’d missed.

We do get to see a few other character’s places, like the modest home of Jenny Stewart’s mother, or the traditional-tinged-with modern apartment (above) of Tye Graham (played by Elizabeth Taylors’ then-husband Michael Wilding), the blind pianist who riles up Miss Crawford before (spoiler alert) taming the shrew.

To my mind, the stars of the movie are – in this order – Miss Crawford, Jenny Stewart’s Living Room and Jenny Stewart’s Bedroom. And The Bedroom steals the movie outright for 14 minutes. During this long, unbroken scene with no dialogue, we watch Jenny Stewart deal with her vexation and frustration over Tye while cloistered away in The Bedroom.  She relentlessly paces the floor of muted gray carpet, plows into bed to play with the overhead metal lamp (above), pulling it down, sending it back up and swinging it from side to side.

She goes through a series of cigarettes that are dramatically lit and violently stamped out in glamorous ashtrays atop gorgeous pieces of built-in furniture.

And in one of the more spellbinding mimes during this 14-minutes, she ravages this clock, spinning its hands like flicking the spinner in a game of drunken Twister. The clock even gets a 5-second close-up, which robbed valuable time from Miss Crawford. Actually this bit with the clock was so odd and so absorbing that I didn’t understand why (other than it being fabulous) the clock figured so prominently and had to rewind to figure it out.  Which is the case with this entire scene; it felt like Crawford was only a game show model guiding you to the finer points of this bedroom’s high design.

She even dutifully goes to the window and throws back the curtains so you can see the chairs and planter on the balcony! After watching the entire scene again, I realized we were supposed to be concentrating on Crawford’s anguish, and if she had any clue that Ames was stealing her thunder with the complicit approval of director Charles Walters, she’d have fired them both, immediately!

The Living Room comes back for another great scene involving a party Jenny throws to lure blind Tye into her private world. She is the only woman in a sea of white men (and one lone black piano player) who must have been instructed to wear navy blue suits so they would coordinate with the brown tiger wood paneling and the white George Nelson pendant lamps.

Jenny’s fury at (spoiler alert) being stood up by Tye causes her to kick everyone out as she runs back to The Bedroom, and for this scene featuring the silk drapes, Ames also sneaks in a new hanging lamp (upper left) whose orange bulbs echo the burning rage of Jenny.

We now pause from adoring Jenny’s decor to pay homage to the most bizarre scene ever filmed – the musical production for “Two-Faced Woman.”

If you’ve never done psychedelic drugs, this a safe way to experience a scary trip. For those who have done psychedelics, it’s an unwelcome acid flashback.

Back to sobriety, more rooms in Jenny’s apartment are revealed, like her dressing room, all done up in colors a Barbie doll would choose if trying for a sophisticated look.

And the doorbell ringing gives Ames another opportunity to introduce some more new features, like this built-in shelf with abstract sculpture…

…and the Eero Saarinen Womb Chair, which upstages Wilding, who is adhering to the household rule of Men In Navy Suits. This scene also gives new angles on the rest of The Living Room that are so breathtaking that I overlooked the major plot point that Tye only came over to tell Jenny to piss off, which of course….

…sends her running to his place, where she sneaks up on him, accosts him and makes him fall to floor in tears. This, naturally signals a great love and compassion…

…that allows them to neck awkwardly through the closing credit.

I only poke fun at the great Miss Crawford because she can no longer choke a wench! But seriously, she always had fabulously modern tastes for her own homes. Take a look at her New York City apartment from 1957-67. Which highlights the very real possibility that she loved everything about these Preston Ames sets, so didn’t mind how prominently they were featured. Though it takes a strong commitment (and fetish) to mid-century modern design to think they upstaged her.

RELATED
Other movie sets freeze-framed on B.E.L.T.

Save 750 North Taylor in Kirkwood

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750 North Taylor
Kirkwood, MO

The 1884 W.F. Warner home in the heart of historic Kirkwood is listening to the tick-tock of the demolition clock, with hopes of a save before the alarm rings.

On the market since 2008, the price has reduced to $895,000, and a new home builder holds an option on it, pending approval of his plans to create 4 new homes on the almost-2 acres of land it has occupied for 126 years.

Read the in-depth report of 750 North Taylor in The Webster-Kirkwood Times.

The Kirkwood Landmarks Commission is trying to save it, and yard sings all over Kirkwood show solidarity. But the trouble with finding a new owner who won’t tear it down is the prohibitive cost of rehabbing and updating it for 21st century living.

Even as the asking price comes down, the rough estimate of $200k for renovation would exceed the home’s value. This is according to the developer who wants to tear it down. He also believes it needs to be a gut rehab. And of course he’d think that, but it’s not necessarily accurate.

Here’s a photo gallery of the interior of the home.

The Warner mansion qualifies for historic tax credits.  Everything about it is an Old House Journal wet dream. And it feels as if Kirkwood residents are approaching the tipping point of tolerating teardowns – this is not their first rodeo.

If the ideal private residence buyer cannot be found, can other options be explored? Off the top of the head: bed and breakfast, Kirkwood history museum, tea room and meeting space…

Because of the surrounding neighborhood, I’m thinking of lower traffic, money-making ventures that would require a tweak to zoning, but would update and preserve the home to be shared with others in a way that could eventually recoup the costs. Maybe the Kirkwood Landmarks Commission could chip in to make this possible?

There can be a Plan B, C or D for this beautiful home, and since Plan A is not working, let’s hope some inspirational wheels of thought are turning in the minds of those who can make a real difference for the past, present and future of Kirkwood.