Some North County Love

Posted on 10/28/2009 by Toby Weiss

Gone But Not Forgotten: A long-standing icon on Chambers Road in Ferguson, MO.

The inner-ring suburbs of North St. Louis County deserve a little attention. First up, the Ferguson Planning and Development department is buying up small, foreclosed homes for future use. This has long been a “if I had development money” dream of mine because as life gets too expensive to live it out on the fringes, people will start to migrate backwards over the former White Flight paths. This will make inner-ring suburbs desirable locations yet again.

Read the Ferguson land-banking article here.

North County finally has a blog!

NOCO StL is a relatively new venture, and nicely done, especially this poignant reporting on the closing of a Jennings institution.

StL City Q&A

Posted on 10/22/2009 by Toby Weiss

In late September, physician UrbanNexus came to St. Louis for a look see. Prior to a round-table luncheon discussion, viagra they asked a diverse group of us questions about our city like:

What is St. Louis doing right?

Why do you stay?

What is our biggest impediment to progress?

Read our answers here.

I was proud to be a part of this discussion, but even more rewarding was finally being introduced to the magazine Next American City. From content to writing to layout, it is an exceptionally professional and fascinating publication. I look forward to it landing in my mailbox.

Little Things Mean A Lot

Posted on 10/20/2009 by Toby Weiss

Morgan Ford at Poepping Street
South St. Louis City, MO

Subdivision entrance monuments, like the one shown above, are always interesting to observe. They are often the first thing to go up when a new subdivision is developed, and the design and materials chosen either reflect the aesthetic of the subdivision or wind up at great odds with what resulted. But mainly, entrance monuments are about place-marking, a means of declaring to passers-by (and in the early days of development, potential buyers) that “we are a proud and unique community.”

One morning at the end of July, I pass by the entrance to Al-Clare Meadows and see one of the signs down and scattered. I’m assuming it was a car because of the extent of the destruction, and how suddenly it occurred: Tuesday it was standing, Wednesday it was splattered in the neighbor’s yard.

Based on current costs of masonry repair and labor, I naturally assumed this entry marker was eternal toast, that the pieces would be carted off, the homeowners lawn repaired, and Al-Clare would continue unperturbed with a lopsided entry.

I made this assumption because of where it’s located and its age. The small-to-modest size tract homes of Al-Clare Meadows (the name came from combining Alberta and Clarence Dalton, the subdivision developers) are a bit south of the River Des Peres, and a scootch away from the St. Louis City/County line. So it’s in that nebulous part of town that’s not quite city, not quite county; not quite old, not quite new; not really distinct but certainly unoffensive. Honestly, people tend to overlook this unassuming part of town unless they – or someone they know – live there.

It took a couple of months of waiting, but there it is, rebuilt!

(SIDE BAR How odd that the pile of rubble remained undisturbed that entire time… I assumed outsiders would just help themselves to some masonry because that’s what tends to happen in some of the older city neighborhoods. Hell, they even purposely yank down walls to get at it… but that’s another story, right?)

When considering everything that had to transpire for that marker to be rebuilt (patience, funding, protection, masonry craft, etc.), my heart swelled with gratitude for this neighborhood’s pride of place that made it possible. And I was embarrassed by my rash assumptions about the neighborhood and the fate of the sign because it was snobbism, plain and simple. I am humbled by what I don’t know, and I’m thankful that – within the big picture – something so comparatively small really did matter to the people it represented.

So every time City Hall pulls another WTF? out of their trick bag, I think about the resurrected Al-Clare entry monument, because it is things like this that truly reflect and represent what makes St. Louis City so special – the people and their love of place.

The Stone House Lives

Posted on 10/18/2009 by Toby Weiss

Where North Highway 67 ends
North St. Louis County, MO

This is a picture of the very last house on the south side of Hwy 67. It’s past Jamestown Mall, but several yards before the mighty street comes to a whimpering end before a forest. I always thought this little stone house – built in 1948 – was so charming and so intriguing. There’s no front yard, but a little over 2 acres of backyard. But the feature that always caught my imagination was the outdoor terrace created in the space between the house and tiny garage.

I was both fascinated and jealous when passing by and catching someone using that special spot; how lucky were they?

In 2007, it became apparent the place was empty, and considering how developers were angling to obliterate every inch of greenery for a slight variation on the same retail they had just 15 miles down the road, I figured this place was toast. But when driving by yesterday, I saw two men working on the house. They were installing the new fascia you see in these photos. And then I noticed it was a new roof, as well, and that the LLC who bought the place would only do something like that if they planned to sell it as a viable, 1,389 s.f. home that someone would be happy to live in.

Consider that homes even more substantial and younger than this get sold as teardowns, and understand why my heart burst with happiness over the sight of men fixing this house for its future. They think it’s perfectly natural to save and re-use this little stone house, those lovable, wacky kids!

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!

Tear Down Jamestown Mall

Posted on 10/04/2009 by Toby Weiss

Christmas Eve 2008, the night Sears closed for good.

Jamestown Mall, Lindbergh & Old Jamestown Road
Florissant, MO

At the end of September 2009, The Urban Land Institute presented some ideas on what to do with a dying mall. In a pdf of their presentation, they advocate tearing down the existing building and creating a new, mixed-use destination. This proposal comes after the 2008 idea of turning the southwest (former Dillard’s) portion of the mall into senior housing and office space fell through due to, supposedly, national economic misfortune.

Jamestown Mall originally opened in 1973, shortly after my Mother and I moved into near-by Black Jack. There were plenty of places to eat, (including a Pope’s cafeteria and a restaurant inside the Walgreens), a movie theater and all the stores my Mother already had credit cards for, so we went there a lot.

I have good memories of the place, like hanging out at the Camelot music store, which got most of the grade-school and teenager money I had. There’s also not-so-good memories, like having to pick out clothes in the Pretty Plus department at Sears, which was located right near the mall entrance, so I was in plain sight of high traffic.

There were high school midnight movies where we were so stoned we could barely walk, so I barely remember The Song Remains the Same or Rainbow Bridge. There were periods of intense longing over toys in KayBee, gag gifts at Spencer’s and boys in my classes that I never thought twice about until I ran into them outside of school at the mall.

But these are all memories that I can conjure at will as I sit at home. The last few times I stopped at the mall, none of those thoughts went through my head while walking the mall. Instead, I was taken with the stainless steel and bronze sculptures that have been there since Day One, and meant nothing to me at the time, but now I think they’re beautiful, and I worry what will become of them if the mall is torn down.

Plaster bust of the late Fred Wehrle, property of the downtown Famous-Barr display department, which eventually made its way out to Jamestown Mall.

Buildings are historical proof that hold memories , which is one of the reasons people get upset when certain buildings are slated for demolition. In the case of Jamestown Mall, it denotes a distinct period of Boom Town development in far North St. Louis County, and it holds plenty of memories, but the structure itself is unmemorable because it was purposely designed for all the action to be internal, so how it looked from the outside was an afterthought.

I loved everything about re-purposing a portion of it for senior housing, but since they’ve let that useful and innovative idea go, I’m completely on board with them leveling the existing mall and starting anew. But I am completely against the suggested new use for the land.

Take a look at the aerial view of the mall and the surrounding area and note how much green there is around it. Even with decades of new housing going up, this part of North County – out where the mighty Lindbergh Boulevard ends with a lackluster whimper – is still awesomely rural, verdant and never completely tamed. High density retail and residential kind of peters out northeast of the New Halls Ferry & Lindbergh intersection, and large swaths of rolling hills still hold working farms (there’s still a barnyard animal feed and supply across from the mall on Lindbergh because the area needs one). The Bubbleheads thrive out there for a reason – it’s woodsy seclusion sometimes interrupted by suburbia.

A concrete abstract sculpture that stood outside Stix/Dillard’s is now missing. Where did it go to?

It was a weird gamble to put a mall in an area so far off the density grid. For the first 15 years of its existence, the only other non-Lindbergh way to get to the mall was via a winding, hilly back road with dangerous curves and a rickety bridge over a snake-ridden creek that only us locals used. “Over the river and through the woods to Grandmother’s mall we go…”

But it was a successful gamble for awhile, because there was nothing else like it in this remote area. It was truly a shopping destination for St. Louis North Countians and those over the bridge in Alton, Illinois… until they got their own Alton Square. And Northwest Plaza had more of the big stores, and wasn’t all that much further the other way up Lindbergh. And then retail trends changed to several Big Box lots spread throughout a municipality and Jamestown Mall became the remote island of Misfit Stores.

The dead end of Jamestown that was slated for senior housing and office space.

The ULI proposal recognizes how remote this location is, so logically suggests that it be turned into a bells and whistle mixed-use destination, a place so chock-full of everything and the kitchen sink that folks from all over the region will be itching to go there… until the newness fades away into the next Retail Destination dog and pony show that’s easier to get to.

They also propose that the new use have a Vegas-like reenactment of urban density, which is flat-out silly when you glance at the distinctly rural qualities of the areas surrounding it. Florissant shouldn’t spend millions on a New Town, Part II.

I propose, instead, a totally original mixed-use idea that takes into consideration the area and its flavor and gives people something they can’t get anywhere else so that they are totally willing to come from all over to have a crack at it, repeatedly.

From the current proposal I’d keep the ice hockey pond and the farmer’s market. To stick with the sports theme, let’s go extreme: could someone finally give our area a full-blown skateboard park, please? Also add a bicycle motocross course. Some of the original building foundations could be left in place for both of these items, and because we don’t have anything like this currently, they’d pull a steady stream of people all year long totally willing to pay to play.

If one or both is too radical an idea to consider, maybe pay homage to the horse culture still existent in this part of North County, with something similar to Pere Marquette Stables?

Expand the farmer’s market idea by also creating a pick-your-own vegetable garden. Think Eckert’s apple orchard, with people paying to pick their own local vegetables that they know comes right from the ground. There’s plenty of room for seasonal harvests like strawberries in the spring, pumpkin patches in the fall, and just like Waldbart Nursery nearby (let them sponsor it and support local business), chop your own Christmas tree in the winter.

Right on the Old Jamestown and Lindbergh corner I’d slap down a restaurant that naturally features seasonal food that comes from the gardens, and a cafe for hot or cold beverages and treats, depending on the time of year. And so I don’t have to worry about the fate of the Jamestown Mall sculptures, move them into an outdoor sculpture and water garden for a unique dining-outdoors experience.

Any or all of these ideas would cost far less to develop than what is proposed, and promotes a sustainable, outdoors, healthy agenda that is not dependent on fickle retail trends or just-add-water urban islands inappropriate to the area. Even with our crap economy, they could begin with the gardens on existing empty land while demolition happens on the mall, so that everyone can see innovative progress happen in stages, and even take part in the process.

Are these far-fetched ideas, or is it do-able? Do you think it could pull people from all over the metropolitan area and contribute meaningfully to the area’s tax base? And what are some other uses for the land other than the cliched ideas being proposed?

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.

Berkeley MCM: Frostwood Subdivision

Posted on 09/20/2009 by Toby Weiss

Frostwood Subdivision
Berkeley, Missouri

Even with 20-odd years of living in North County, I never knew about this little gem of a subdivision, so thank you to Jeff and Randy Vines for running across it during a casual drive around our Greater St. Louis, which continually reveals delightful secrets like this.

The inner-ring suburb of Berkeley was incorporated in 1937, and most of the municipality’s western border is occupied by the Lambert Field airport, which built its first terminal in 1933. Around 1954, as architect Minoru Yamasaki’s main airport terminal was being built, so too was Frostwood.

The land Frostwood Subdivision is built on was originally part of Hazelwood Farm, an estate that had been passed from John Mullanphy to his daughter Catherine Graham to son-in-law General Daniel Frost to granddaughter Hattie Fordyce. Fordyce bequeathed it to St. Louis University who then sold it to new home developers Fischer & Frichtel, who platted and built homes on the land from June 1952 to January 1956.

When entering the subdivision from Frost Avenue via Adler Avenue, you see this bizarre scene of mid-century suburban living dwarfed by the mid-century power grid needed to keep Lambert running. Space-age living did require a few sacrifices now and again. But once you get deeper into the winding streets of Frostwood, the scene becomes more sylvan and less ominous.

There are roughly 600 homes in the subdivision, ranging from 1,288 – 1,500 square feet, and most are 3-bedroom and 2 bath that originally sold brand new for $16,000 – $19,000. The area has an informal and casual feel, which is partially due to the way the houses are sited on their lots, as seen in the bird’s eye map below.

The homes do not follow a uniform setback, and by placing each home at a different angle, each one gets a slightly different view, and different opportunities for private vs. public spaces.

A family friend from decades ago bought one of these houses on Red Fir Drive in 1955, and lived happily until about 1970, when he moved his family “because of the blacks,” which was then an all-too- common reason for white people to keep moving further north and west into new homes built by developers who knew how to capitalize on this St. Louis cultural weakness.

So on the day I was taking these photographs, it was karmic relief to be stopped by a 43-year old black woman who moved into this neighborhood in 1968, and whose mother still lives in the very same house to this day. She said Frostwood was a great place to grow up, with lots of friends across the entire subdivision and lots of activities. She also pointed out that the southern half of the subdivision houses have basements, while the northern half are built on concrete slabs with no basements.

Many of the homes, like the yellow version shown above, have a delicate way of handling car parking, running the carport parallel to the house so that the walls – rather than the entry – face the street.

This system worked well for the versions that have a garage, too. With both models, it creates the opportunity for a curving driveway that adds whimsy and informality to the site.

Since these houses are all now over 50 years old, there has, of course, been many alterations made to them. A common remodel, as shown above, is converting the garage into a room, which adds square footage to the living area, and when done correctly is actually very cool.

On this different model above, that has a formal, front-facing garage, I’m not sure if that end cap fascia is original or a modification, but either way, it’s a nice stylistic touch to an other-wise ordinary ranch design. A small handful of homeowners have opted to turn their mid-century ranch into Colonial knocks-offs that sit uncomfortably in context with their neighbors. But the vast majority of the neighborhood has – blessedly – retained the original exterior aesthetic.

Midwood Avenue is the only straight-forward thoroughfare in the Frostwood Subdivision, and it has a curious concrete ditch (above) running down the middle, taking up a lot of room. I assumed it was once a creek surrounded by grass, making for a nice place to walk and play. But turns out it has always been like this, a drainage ditch (so a “sometimes creek” during heavy rains, I suppose). It looks awful, but luckily the people who live along it have not transferred this dire scene to their homes.

Even the city of Berkeley has admitted how ugly this is, acknowledging in a September 2008 Planning Consideration that it “presents poor visual image,” and are proposing “common-themed residential streetscape design” along Frostwood and Midwood Avenues. If the money ever materializes for this project, I hope it remains true to the original design aesthetic.

The foreclosure tidal wave has hit Frostwood, with some houses now available for under $20,000, but this does not reflect the quality and beauty of this neighborhood, only the condoned irresponsibility of the American financial system. Rather, it’s a chance to get some nicely preserved mid-century modern at a great price.

The South Grand Driving Test

Posted on 09/18/2009 by Toby Weiss

I usually avoid driving through Grand Boulevard between Arsenal and Chippewa because it’s sluggish and congested. News of the Great Streets Initiative taking it down to 2 lanes with a center turn lane from Arsenal to Utah caused instinctive cringe and a double-down on “must to avoid.”

Steve Patterson’s thoughts on the Grand Test made sense; why do it for only 6 blocks? I only use South Grand south of Chippewa, which is 2 lanes all the way with no center turn lane. Then again, it’s an even mix of residential and commercial, so not the same kind of traffic nightmares as in Grand Loop, proper.

But what’s the point of conjecture when I could just test drive the test lanes? And so I did on Thursday afternoon, at 4:30-ish. I exited Hwy 44 at Grand, headed south towards home, and began filming at 4-lane Magnolia Avenue, ending just past Chippewa Street, where it remains 2-lanes until it ends at Carondelet Park:

I like it! It took only 3:58 minutes (or 1.5 Beatles tunes) to get from Magnolia to Chippewa during the start of rush hour traffic. The center turn lane in the heart of the South Grand Loop eliminated the obstacles that stop traffic or have us swinging fast, erratic lane changes to avoid stopping. Other than the one red light I ran, it was my smoothest and most care-free tool down this stretch that I have ever experienced.

It was actually rather distracting when it resumed 4-lanes past Utah, especially since I knew the wonky change back to 2 lanes at Chippewa was imminent. If they’re serious about enacting real change, I want them to commit to 2-lanes all the way from Arsenal to where Grand ends at Carondelet Park.

I took their survey, which has interesting questions, but sometimes seems manipulative to a forgone conclusion. And they do not allow for comments like, “commit to 2-lanes all the way from Arsenal to where Grand ends at Carondelet Park.” But I applaud their effort, look forward to the results, and urge you to experiment with it while it lasts.

Mid-Century Fetish: The Best Of Everything

Posted on 09/13/2009 by Toby Weiss

The Best of Everything is a rich chocolate sundae of Hollywood melodrama and mid-century modern design, with Miss Joan Crawford as the cherry on top.

Filmed and released in 1959, the movie is based on the 1958 novel of the same name by Rona Jaffe. The book is a really great read because it’s far more than a soap tale of 3 girls coming to New York City to find love and good fortune; it is a realistic snapshot of how post-WW2 cultural and corporate standards demanded the creation of Women’s Liberation.

The dramatic and/or tragic stories of the girls’ journeys through sex and career were obvious bait for Hollywood, who added spoonfuls of glamor sugar to make the medicine go down, and this lesson was clearly understood and aped by both Cosmopolitan magazine and, later, Mad Men. I’d make a bet that Matthew Weiner has seen this movie even more times than I have, if only for set design research purposes.

Along with Hope Lange, Barbara Lamont and Suzy Parker (above center), the Lever House should have been billed as a co-star, because it actually appears on screen as often as Joan Crawford. It appears so much because it’s caddy corner on Park Avenue to the building where our heroines work…

… the Seagram Building. So within the first 15 minutes of the film, you know you’re in for a rich and gooey mid-century modern treat.

The main character, Caroline Bender, comes to her first day of work as a typist and secretary at Fabian Publishing Company. She arrives early to absorb the place, and the camera pans over this Mondrian-like office set. The film’s art direction is primarily by Lyle R. Wheeler, who had already worked similar magic on films like The Long Hot Summer, Peyton Place, Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter? and Bus Stop. For the Fabian Publishing set, he used door colors to signify which level each inhabitant occupied on the corporate totem pole and adhered to tight grids in the typing pool to symbolize the rigid class distinctions between executives and the female typing pool. If – without seeing the move – this set looks familiar to you, it may indicate that you…

…watch Mad Men. During the first few episodes of the first season, I was vaguely disappoint in how refined the sets were, until I realized that I was instinctively comparing their sets to The Best of Everything. The people responsible for the Mad Men sets have essentially created the accurate, real-world version of of Hollywood’s glossy interpretation of late 50s/early 60s corporate world.

Caroline Bender (above) has ambitions to become an editor but first assigned secretary duties to editor Miss Amanda Farrow (Miss Crawford, below right).

The Mad Men character Peggy Olson is a perfect compilation of these two characters. Peggy “before” is Caroline, all freshly scrubbed from a small town looking to make it in the Big City, and her quick learning curve and natural talent moves her quickly up the ladder. If you’d like a sneak peak at Peggy “after,” see this movie and keep an eye on the Amanda character. And look at those chairs!

This is the office of Fabian editor-in-chief Fred Shalimar, and dig the wall of built-in book shelves holding the paperbacks he’s overseen. As in Mad Men, actual work takes a backseat to drinking, smoking and carousing, so the office needs to be comfy and stylish.

Hollywood depicted the bustling employee cafeteria inside the Seagram building as a mod fantasy of vivid aqua, yellow and purple, which stood in stark contrast to the marble and glass lobby that couldn’t be glossed into submission.

When the action leaves the office, we get a wide sample of the different aspects of mid-century modern residential design. Above is the work-a-day kitchen in Amanda Farrow’s apartment, and below is the penthouse of rich playboy Dexter Key (played by Robert Evans) who will do terrible things to one of our heroines.

Eventually, Caroline becomes second-in-command at Fabian and gets this spacious new office. It does a better job of expressing the character’s reactions to her rapid rise than the actress does, which pretty much sums up the movie. As often happens, Hollywood sucks the soul out of a book for the sake of selling tickets. In the case of The Best of Everything, the sets and the costumes are the reason I watch this movie so often, and the reason I get an extra kick out of Mad Men.

B.E.L.T.

Built Environment in Layman's Terms