Sunset Hills Teardown, Revised

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And Now For Some Good News

The entry below was first posted on June 6, 2006. The beguiling uniqueness of this home prompted a piece in the September/October 2006 issue of St. Louis At Home. That article was seen by the people who were selling the house, and they found their way to my blog entry about it. They got angry and wanted my piece removed from cyberspace. A debate about propriety took place between realtors, culminating in the seller threatening my friend’s livelihood. After much confusion and incredulity, I removed the entry because my friend is far more important than a blog. But this was a temporary situation, as we vowed that once the fate of the house was known, its “memorial” would be revived.

So, the entry disappeared, and surprisingly, I got quite a few inquiries as to where it went. While the piece was mothballing, the developer who had the house and its land under contract let it go when, reportedly, Sunset Hills would not approve his intentions for the land.

Earlier this year, I got an e-mail from a man asking if I knew any further details about the Brinkop house in Sunset Hills, and specifically, any more info about its architect? He ended the message by saying he had just bought the place, so all information would be appreciated.

HE BOUGHT THE PLACE ?!
Yes, he bought the place, and the first round of repairs and renovations had just begun. He loved all of its idiosyncrasies, and planned to keep as much of the original fiber as possible.

AND HE LOVES IT AS IS ?!
This man – only the second family to ever live in this house – is truly godlike.

The uncompromising customization of this mid-century modern home is one of the things that marked its doom. That, and all that land it sat on in a premium location, location, location. Every single person who came to know of this house was certain that it was a goner, simply based on modern realty practices. This house had begun the Bataan Death March.

WE WERE ALL WRONG!!!!!
It’s alive and well and loved. It feels odd, though, because I’ve never experienced MCM homes that should be saved actually being saved. But my gratitude is boundless and I hope more of us can follow the awe-inspiring example set by the new owners.

And over a year later, I am pleased to welcome back….

Maret Drive
Sunset Hills, MO
Ted Hindes made a brilliant find, and was so cool as to share the news and links about it. The real estate listing shows only a few shots of the backyard that backs to Laumier Park, because “currently there is a single home on the property which will be torn down.” I was saddened and shocked to see it blatantly listed as a teardown. How do you control this particular epidemic when everyone from homeowners to developers to real estate agents are in bed together? (Above, keep this fenestrated turret in mind.)

A progressive, modernist friend of mine is also a realtor, and since she was just as shocked and intrigued about it as I was, she waved her magic wand, and the next thing you know, we were touring the house. And we were instantly enchanted. (Above, right side, the turret is the fireplace chimney.)

Built in 1950, this 2860 s.f. house was designed by Harold Brinkop for he and his wife, Erma. From 1939 to 1950, Harry designed and developed Hampton Village, creating the first auto-centric shopping center in the city, and pioneering a retail concept that would wildly thrive in new suburbia just a few years later. (Above, the front entry, and what looks like a newer set of doors, as they lack the distinct character of the rest of the house.)

As I snapped most every inch of the place, my friend chatted up the people across the street. They had been neighbors with The Brinkop’s for almost 20 years, and provided all kinds of answers to the questions raised by being in the house. (Above, built-in planters to the right of the front entrance.)

The Brinkops lived on South Grand, near the Osceloa intersection, up until they moved into this house that architect Harry designed specifically for them. They were childless (which probably explains why it’s in such meticulous shape, despite the recent neglect), and the house was put together to accommodate the private and social lives of a couple who entertained frequently. (Above, looking southeast, the flagstone zig zags toward the turret.)

(Above, the zig zags are a series of windows with textured glass, letting in light while maintaining privacy.) The year of Harold’s death is not known, but Erma continued to live in the house until her own death, about 5 or 6 years ago. Her will bequeathed the house to her physician, Dr. Charles Kilo. He sat on the vacant property until putting it up for sale with a list price of $720,000.

The listing states: “This home is being sold with adjoining lot (12531 Maret) totaling 2.9 acres. This home is either a total rehab or a teardown. The value is in the 2 lots which back to Laumeier Sculpture Park in Sunset Hills. There is a very good possibility that more than 2 lots can be made out of this total acreage. This is beautiful wooded ground and this opportunity does not come along very often! Location, location, location!”

Above, the northwest end of the house rolls down a level to the 2-car garage and what reveals itself as the fully realized lower level of the house. To the right is an outdoor, screened pavilion with a tiny kitchenette.

The entrance to the back courtyard is marked with an electronically operated school bell (above). I only know it’s electronic because there is a precise list of what all the fuses control still taped to the electric box inside the house. And The Brinkop’s really liked bells. We found a button on the upstairs kitchen wall that sounded a bell in the basement kitchen. Rather than yell like hoosiers out the windows or down the stairs, they installed their own “dinner’s ready” network.

While the front of the house is angles and circles, the backside (above) is broadly curved and takes on a decidedly southern feel with its veranda, awnings, half walls, lamp posts, bird bath and planters. The back yard is a long, gently sloping hill littered with concrete deer statues, birdhouses, mature trees and the last remnants of flower beds. The property ends at a bank of trees separating it from Laumier Park, which can probably only be seen when the trees are bare for winter.

The door shown above, left, leads into a full basement kitchen (which still has a vintage 1950s Philco refrigerator), while the door above, right, is for Harry’s work room. One of his old ball caps still rests on a belt sander, their old Christmas decorations peek out of some abandoned boxes.

The burgundy awning (above) covers the picture window in the downstairs family room, where a framed portrait of gallivanting deer still lights up. The curtains are straight out of 1965. I got the impression that the downstairs was a masculine domain, whereas the upstairs is feminine.
The picture window on the top level belongs to what the electric box labeled as the “multipurpose room.”

The generous patio area is laid with Tennessee sandstone (above), which had to be rather pricey, even in 1950. Actually, when noting all the finishes in this house, money was not an issue for The Brinkop’s. But rather than ostentatiously deck out their dream home, they chose solid and consistent materials that have endured, intact, to this day. If this house must come down, I hope someone has the good sense to cart off and re-use the materials, as it’s primo stuff. Actually, if a developer takes the property, they could save a bundle on the new matchstick house they’ll build in its place if they clad it in the flagstone… but do I really want to help this company save money while employing some semblance of good taste? That idea; strike it from the record.

A small fountain with a birdbath (above) is a quarter way down the backyard. The awnings on the top left side of the building cover the living room windows. And it’s now time to go inside the house.

The current owner of the property obviously doesn’t take people for interior tours, because upon entering through the basement kitchen door, my friend walked through some major cobwebs. The basement kitchen was already half-dismantled, but the bathroom (above) was still complete, and fabulous. The dark burgundy wall tile and the bathing beauty on the shower door confirms the masculine bent of the basement… though a raspberry porcelain sink does show a feminine touch.

Heading up the stairs (which, still bears the original carpet, I swear) brings one into the kitchen, and here’s where we started losing it. This. Kitchen. Is. Pristine. Please click on the above photos to get a large view, and confirm how immaculate this kitchen is. Aside from some very recent pockmarks on the dish washer (above, top), every appliance and metal cabinet looks like it just left the show room where it was purchased. Every piece of chrome and stainless steel is spotless and shiny; you wouldn’t need to wash the Formica countertops before preparing food on them. The kitchen looks like a museum installation. It’s so retro that it’s modern. To replicate this look today would be an easy $100,000.
Oh, yeah, the view out the kitchen window is superb.

The next feature that made us frantic with joy is the hallway that lines the front side of the house (above). That zig zag flagstone line on the exterior cuts through to the interior. Looking down the hall towards the front door…

…and the opposite direction view (above), looking towards “The Bathroom.” But before we go there, let’s review the guest bathroom, opposite the zig zag hall.

The guest bathroom makes quite the bold statement (“1980s gay club,” was my friend’s immediate take), with dark, eggplant ceramic tile and atomic green toilet and sink. The sink (above, right) is the same make and model as the basement bathroom, and note the toothbrush and cup holder above it. It’s a revolving platform, so that when not in use, it spins around and seals up to leave only a shiny, stainless steel panel on the wall. The original cup is still in place, and, naturally, matches the sink. And it, like everything else in here, is cleaner than my own bathroom. The copious use of mirrors makes the tiny space seem much larger, and the color scheme is absolutely Hollywood.

But this bathroom ain’t jack bird turd when compared too…

THE BATHROOM!
Please review the first photo of this post. The fenestrated turret? It houses the main bathroom. Even with the widest-angle lens possible, and a dictionary of adjectives, it would be impossible to convey the magnitude of innovation and cool that is The Bathroom.

The space is perfectly round and about 12 feet tall. 5 slender, vertical metal frame windows (that still open with hand cranks) provide an even glow throughout the room. Imagine looking down on the floor plan, and in the middle of the circle is a square. That square would be the “roof” of what can only be described as a “fixture island.” This square – which is only about 7 feet tall, total – is divided into 4 green-tiled sections, with each section housing a bathroom component. The “roof” holds all the lighting and electrical equipment.

Above, left, I’m standing in the doorway from the hall, looking towards the door to the master bedroom. Above, right, the coral pink toilet. Yes, the “fixture island” is dark seafoam green and coral pink (’twas 1950), and the ceramic tiles are perfect. Even the grout is immaculate. How could anyone keep anything so clean for so long?

Revolving through the bathroom, counterclockwise, it’s the same sink (above, left) as in the other bathrooms, including the rotating toothbrush holder. Behind that area is the bathtub (above, right).

Across from the bathtub (above, left) is a built in sink and vanity with 3 mirrors, 2 of them serving as medicine cabinets. Cone-shaped metal lamps on the wall and a window, light this area. Around the next bend is the shower stall, and that brings us back to doe (above, right).

Four people could be in this bathroom at the same time and never see each other. There has never been a more dramatic or efficient bathroom as this one. It almost feels as if Harry Brinkop first designed the ultimate bathroom, and then created the rest of the house behind it. No matter where I went in the house, I kept coming back to marvel at this feat of indoor plumbing ingenuity.

Speaking of ingenuity… we saw no heating vents or duct work in the house, so how was it heated? Turns out that under this bathroom, in the basement, is the room (round, of course) housing the massive boiler for the under-floor radiant heat system. There are 11 separate valves, allowing them to heat (or not heat) each individual room. It’s a very impressive – and progressive – set-up.

Leaving the most magical bathroom ever, we head into the master bedroom (above, left). A wall of sliding doors reveals a cedar-lined closet with a built-in chest of drawers. The view out the back window is superb, but a glance to the right (above, right) reveals a breathtaking angle on the rear of the house.

The same thing happens (above) when looking out the living room windows on the other end of the house, and looking left towards the rest of the building. I’m guessing this gallery was mainly for looks, as the only door leading out to this shallow balcony is in the kitchen, and then one would only be able to use the southeast veranda. Useable or not, it’s a nice touch.

Across from these living room windows – and right off the kitchen – is the inset bar (above).

Here’s an overview of the living room (above), looking towards the back of the house. On the right is one of several air-conditioning units used to cool the house (the Westinghouse unit in the multi-purpose room is of early ’60s vintage, and is so striking as to be an art installation). The large panes of glass are fixed, and surrounded by plenty of operable windows, providing a clever solution for both expansive views and fresh air.

Directly across the room is the massive fireplace (above), made of the same stone as on the outside of the house. Two vents under the mantle pushed heat from the fire out into the room. 4 towering strips of windows flank either side of the fireplace. If you review the 2nd photo of this post, be reminded that the chimney outside is round, so the tile surround on the floor is mimicking the shape.

To the right of the living room is the front entry hall (above), with the same stone flooring as on the fireplace surround. The glass block is a deft touch and that replacement door is even more inappropriate on the interior than it was outside.

And there’s one last interesting piece of the house; the elevator! We’d have never discovered if not for the neighbor’s mentioning it, because it’s hidden behind a sliding wood door in the basement kitchen (above, left), and is part of the pantry in the upstairs kitchen. We marveled at its shiny, wooden beauty while it was docked in the basement. It then scared the crap out of us when we pressed a button in the upstairs kitchen and “va-whooosh” rumbled below us… It Still Works!
The note taped to the right of the rotary phone (above, right) is Erma’s short list of phone numbers, including: “When Oxygen Runs Low – 911.”

In the short time spent in the house, Erma & Harry came back to life, and their house is a strong, handsome and unique place. On one hand, it does bear out what the marketplace claims about modern houses: the resale is difficult. This house was highly customized for its owners.

On the other hand, here are some of the other mid-century modern homes on the same, short street (above). Together, these 3 houses appear to be the first homes on the street. The rest are large, contemporary variations on traditional, “between the wars” residential architecture. And then there are 2 brand new “Hummer Houses” shining like bright pennies on the plots of land they overtook. But these MCM homes were the original intent of the street, and are not some anachronistic oddities blighting the neighborhood.

What distresses me is that there are people out there with a real appreciation for a house like The Brinkop’s, and some of them even have the extra $100,000 it would take to both update (central air, oh yes) and repair parts of the house. But when realtors’ and developers effectively sweep a house under the rug, how do these people find them?

My friend and I mulled over the possibilities… What if it was turned into a private “hotel,” say, for folks visiting nearby Laumier Park? Or for out-of-town parents visiting their children at the nearby Thomas Jefferson boarding school?

These are pipe dreams within the realm of possibility, but the reality is that someone will pay more money to get their steroidal, just-add-water mansion on this spot, and not even blink in the dust of all the demolished flagstone.
And as it was before, I almost wish I’d never seen this house, because I’m tired of having my heart broken.

St. Louis Hills Office Center: Tried To Save It, But Couldn’t

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The top of the front facade in a black & white film photo from 2001.

The St. Louis Hills Office Center is also commonly known as the St. Louis Hills medical center, since the majority of its tenants throughout the decades were of that bent. City records show 1958 as its inaugural year, but the 1959 City Directory still lists only Joseph Petralia at 6500 Chippewa. That he was later listed as a dentist in room 318 of the Office Center may suggest he had a small dental office on the corner portion of the property that soon became a medical complex.

In 1963, the Directory lists Southtown Professional Pharmacy, Ostertag Optical Service and Miss Pernies Cafeteria on the 1st floor, while doctors and dentists filled the rest of the 3-story building, save for Eloise Hair Stylists and Young Hair Fashions.

The northeast elevation as seen from across Bancroft.

The immediate area around the building is rather unique, thus the unique shape of the building itself. The limestone, marble and glass front of the building (with the blue-green lettering that screams 1950s) faces northwest, presiding over the convergence of Watson into Chippewa. This intersection also has Bancroft shooting off it to the east, which makes the building bend to a 45 degree angle so that the bulk of it runs parallel to Bancroft.


This 3-story brick bulk with limestone-framed ribbon windows sits atop steel piles and concrete columns, creating covered parking. The building was inserted into a gentle hill, so the downward slope allowed for an underground parking garage entered from the eastern end of the building. Stairs at both ends of the parking garage got you into the place.

Note the dark red brick wall of the upper and lower parking lots angling toward the building. Take special note of the dark brown section in the low left corner, above.

It was an ingenious use of an oddly shaped space, especially how it created a narrow, ornamental face for the high traffic area, and wrapping around to embrace the still-young car culture while providing urban density. It can be seen from multiple vantage points, and presents a different face each time without being chaotic as a whole.

All dark brown patches on this wall and the building itself are a paint job over -what else? – vivid light blue ceramic tiles. Main building brick has a pinkish hue, so imagine the brand new pink brick contrasted with the white limestone and the blue tile, and know quintessential 1950s style.

As late as 1999, new businesses were still moving in to replace retiring doctors and relocating dentists, but it still retained a retro vibe. In 2000, a dental hygienist who used to work in the building told me of one doctor who remained from the early days, and both he and his grey-haired receptionist still smoked in front of the patients.

For the last few years, the place has stood empty. Its mid-century modern aesthetic could still be seen under all the dirt and inappropriate canvas awnings covering the stainless steel walkway roof.

This shows the orientation of the upper Bancroft entrance. It also shows a private taxi that later carried off items from inside. The driver didn’t respond to my greetings, so I didn’t get to ask if the owners had hired him, and if so, what’s their name?

As covered in this post, the silent but dramatic building inspired in me all kinds of adaptive re-use daydreams, and I have since heard from others long-harboring similar thoughts. It was a building with potential to spare in a brilliant location; a rebirth had to be imminent. So, when the jaw-dropping realization of demolition became apparent, my bewilderment turned into a series of questions that needed answers.

View back toward Bancroft and Chippewa. This is the main entrance off the parking lot, and the smallest window still has the sign (turned inside out) from when it was the pharmacy’s walk-up window.

After a brief session of rumors, half-stories and neighborhood opinions, 16th ward Alderwoman Donna Baringer told me the entire saga. According to her, the building has been owned by the same family (who remain unverified) since the 1960s. They also own addresses 6506 – 6514, the 3 single-story buildings between the office Center and the service station at the corner of Chippewa and Donovan. The Office Center exterior received a few changes over the years (awnings, paint and signage), but they never updated the interior, and with the turn of the century, they basically gave up on building maintenance altogether.

This neglect resulted in severe structural problems to the underground garage, which has been closed off from use for several years. Come 2004, it could no longer pass fire code and even though the building was 60% occupied, the owners opted to evict all tenants rather than make the required repairs. By September 2005, the building was officially condemned.

Detail of the ornament above the main entrance door.

Alderwoman Barringer came into the picture during the eviction process, working with the displaced business to find them new locations in the same area. For instance, Curves left 6506 Chippewa to move, ironically, into the medical center at Chippewa and Landsdowne. Oddly enough, the flagstone and stainless steel space next door has been occupied by All-American Collectibles since early 1999, and has yet to be evicted.

View under the main level covered parking. Views of the houses ringing the back of the structure can be seen, to which I’ll return in a moment.

Barringer made contact with the owners, and when the family said they were interested in finding the best use for the now-vacant Office Center, she went to work finding people willing to redevelop the space. There were several developers interested in mixed-use renovations of the building. Because of its location and potential, these developers were willing to do so without the use of tax incentives and credits, as the 16th ward’s income levels disqualify it for financial aid.

In the eastern stairwell, looking down into the ravished underground parking garage. Following the stairs up to the top leads to piles of party trash and grade-schoolish graffiti on all 3 landings. At each landing, one is looking right onto (and into) the home butted up against this building, which means they would pretty much hear every “party” happening.

The family would not sell, but claimed to still be interested in co-development ideas. All formal presentations and plans brought to them were ignored. At one point, they assured Barringer that they wanted to do something that was in the best interest of the neighborhood – which could include demolition and building anew – but eventually they stopped returning her calls.

Looking west toward the front of the building, you get a sense of how the building both hugs and shelters the site.

During three years of negotiations, the vacant building was becoming a real problem for the homeowners directly surrounding, with rowdy kids, vandals and trash dumpers drawn to it like a magnet. Neighbors continually filed complaints with the Citizen Service Bureau, with public records confirming 16 complaints filed between May 2004 and May 2007, but it did no good. St. Louis Hills was stuck with something they’d never experienced: a dangerous, abandoned building.

The backside of the building, along the Sutherland alley, with the rear entrance/exit to the parking lot near the middle of the photo.

Both the St. Louis Hills Neighborhood Association and Alderwoman Barringer preferred that the building be brought back to code so it could find a new use, but with owners refusing to cooperate in any manner, the arrival of a demolition company preparing for wreckage came as a relief.

Before serious demolition kicks in, the demo company (who, oddly, has no signs up on the site) covered the exposure to the alley neighbors. And here you see how half of an entire block is just alley-width away. Surely the neighbors were used to this office building in their neighborhood, but once it was vacant, you can also understand how it quickly becomes a problem right up the nose. Currently, the neighbors’ homes must get rather bright when the sun hits those white sheets.

On June 18th, I nearly crashed my car over the totally surreal sight of a homeless man sprawled out fast asleep under the stainless steel letters spelling “café.” As my brain melted over the absurdity of a bum in St. Louis Hills, I was somehow able to note the signs of demo prep. In response to my June 20th post, Donna Barringer was able to tell the sad tale of this tragic building.

The demo company is rather conscientious about the neighbors, deciding that reflective white sheets are a better sight than the giant beer and soda ads on the flip side. This photo also shows how quickly they carved away the entrance to the underground garage.

Because of the owners’ silence, she has no idea if they plan on demolishing all of their properties or just the Office Center. Time will reveal that. In an ironic twist, whatever is proposed for the newly vacant space will have to come across Barringer’s desk for neighborhood support and approval. Despite their efforts to work autonomously, the family cannot avoid dealing with a large group of people keenly interested in protecting their investments and their neighborhood.

Brushed steel banister lining the stairwell inside the Chippewa entrance.

A crane is currently chopping away at the parking lots, and it breaks my heart to see such a handsome modern building, so ripe with potential, being destroyed due to willful neglect. Bitterly, we’ve become used to such a thing happening in distressed neighborhoods, but when it happens in the heart of a thriving, desirable area that tried to save it, this type of disregard is inexcusable. But as we are forced to watch the building come down (and with its location, you can barely avoid it if you try), there is some comfort in knowing that no one – besides the owners – wanted it to end this way.


RELATED St. Louis Hills Office Center: Hammer To Fall?

Hardt Building Unmolested

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While searching through a bottomless sea of 35mm negatives for another building, I ran across the above photo.

Here’s the back story, which will explain why this 2001 photo thrills me so. This is a portion of the original signage that once graced the building.

I remember being utterly dismayed when they stripped away the neon signs and replaced the curved section with sheet metal. That was a gentle touch in comparison to the steroidal vinyl breadbox squatting atop it today.

The 21st century has not been kind to this poor building. At the pace the owner is moving, the building is scheduled to be covered in EIFS by 2009.

Chippewa Modern Church

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Chippewa & January
South St. Louis MO
In comparison to its brick bungalow neighbors, it looks like Johnny Sokko’s Robot. Normally, that kind of contrast would be more than enough to make it noteworthy. But in the 15 years I’ve lived in South St. Louis, no one (even mid-century modern fans) has ever mentioned this little oddball.

Maybe that’s because it is rather understated about its modern precision? Or that even though it’s kept neat and trim, there never seems to be any activity to draw the eye? That last question puzzles me the most; it’s the Gospel Church, a non-denominational congregation, and even when I’ve purposely gone by the place on a Sunday morning, there’s the church, but there’s no steeple with no open door to see all the people.

City records omit any information about the building itself, but with all the brick houses directly around it dating from the mid-1930s, I’m assuming it is basically the same age. The newer, tacked on modern facade has a distinctly mid-to-late 1950s look and materials. The 1959 City Directory lists Public Service Savings & Loan as the front tenant, with Albers Construction occupying the rear of the building. When looking closely at the stainless-steel-under-grey-paint awning (shown above), you can make out the original message: Member -Federal Home Loan Bank System.

The sun shade made of vertical aluminum strips is like the brim of a hat pulled low over a face. Its limited and sedate color palette allows it to blend into the background. All of this contributes to the mystery of the modern cube hiding out in plain sight.

Carondelet Park’s Skateboard Park?

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Every time I go to Carondelet Park and see the above site, this thought ticker tapes through my brain: “…skating rink…skateboard park… skating rink… skateboard park….”

Considering that St. Louis now has near-tropical winters that are jeopardizing the Forest Park skating rink, another rink is not a smart long-term investment. But a skateboard park is totally doable.

I know very little about skateboarding or ‘board parks, other than my eyes were always riveted to the kids wheeling about Keiner Plaza. But the laziest Internet search shows plenty of people know how to turn most anything into a skateboard park, so my gut reaction to this odd, unused space at Carondelet isn’t such a crazy idea.

So far, The St. Louis Parks Department has done a brilliant job of making Carondelet more attractive and useful to 21st century patrons (my eternal thanks to you for putting the water fountains back in working order), and there’s plenty more changes awaiting. Which reminded me that there is a Master Plan for the park, so let’s see what they have planned for this area.

On page 31 of the recommendations, they called for turning the “Bear Pit” into an “adventure playground” with a bear theme. As shown in the above photo (purloined from their Master Plan), to make this idea feasible to parents and security, the top half of the walls would be sheared off. Well, that effectively erases most traces of uniqueness and history, leaving behind what looks like an elaborate sink hole.

The adventure park is a nice idea, but it would then be just one of several new and/or updated playgrounds in Carondelet. Sure would be nice to have something a bit more unique in this curious spot, something that would truly be a must-see destination… skateboard park.

On page 34 of the Master Plan: “Consider diversifying the active recreational programming in the park to include other recreational sports.” Seems a skateboard park would qualify as such, yes?

I’m far too old to know about, or champion the cause, for skateboarders; I’m simply wishing that the city would do a little creative thinking and offer up something with more pizzazz than an “adventure park.” A Request For Ideas could be a great opportunity for the City to truly engage the kids by asking for their thoughts on how to develop this spot, a serpentine site ripe for daydreaming and fantastical tales.

St. Louis Hills Office Center: Hammer To Fall?

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6500 Chippewa, South St. Louis MO
@ the Chippewa / Watson Road Merge
A very recent drive past one of my absolutely favorite buildings revealed something I was in denial about: the fate of the St. Louis Hills Office Center. It now displays every sign of an impending demolition. A city record check confirms the worst-case scenario.

On May 1, 2007, City Hall issued a second demolition permit for the building, with the first one granted in August 2006. The last identified owner of the building is Mardel Equity, LLC from March 2005. If a For Sale sign ever appeared on the building, I need someone to verify it, because I never saw one. It would be hard to miss a sign on that building because it is in a prime location.

So, did this building go from emptied to demolition without a chance of redemption?

It’s been said that the 16th ward alderwoman, Donna Barringer, couldn’t find medical practices that would relocate there. I can follow her thought process, since it has primarily served as an office for physicians and dentists since it opened in 1958. And, yes, it is an absolute certainty that no modern medical office would even entertain the thought of using that building.

But why did the thought and effort stop there?
Deciding that this building can only be used as its original incarnation is decidedly antiquated, and fiscally short-sighted.

Stepping into an adaptive reuse frame of mind, I have longed to turn this building into a book store along the lines of the still-achingly-missed Library Ltd. The South Side desperately needs a substantial bookstore, and after reconfiguring the interior, there’d be plenty of room in the St. Louis Hills Office Center for a Border-style bookstore.

It would be even cooler if our local book publishers could share the space with a bookstore. Maybe some of the smaller independent record stores could use some space. Wow, an entire St. Louis Creative Co-Op would be cool!

If you allow for possibility, the list of what could be done with that building could be endless. And it seems an easy sell because:
1. Prime, High Traffic Area for High Visibility
2. TWO levels of parking already on-site
3. Vast square footage requiring interior renovation (think “loft”)

This building is the crown in the retail tip of St. Louis Hills, a commercial strip that curves over to end with LeGrand’s Market & Catering, and kisses the Starbucks/Bread Co. intersection. Oh, and the Donut-Drive-In, which is across the street. If the Macklind Avenue Business District can come roaring back to life (hallelujah!!!!), then mid-century commercial buildings in St. Louis Hills can thrive (just ask LeGrand’s).

We have just scratched the surface of possibility for this building, and the area it belongs to. This is why the perception of pre-determined extinction of the building based on narrow thought is so upsetting. There needs to be more to this story, and it prompts the questions:
Is there still a possibility of a visionary developer being able to buy the place?

Or, is there a new building and businesses already contracted to go in this space?

What do the residents of St. Louis Hills (and the 16th ward) think about this?

UPDATE
I now have the tragic story of why this building is currently under demolition. The blame falls squarely on the building owners. All the details will be shared in a future post.

Marla Court

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I was pedaling around a previously-unexplored section of South St. Louis, the very hilly part wedged in the area between Highway 55 and the St. Louis County line. A majority of the homes near the City/County border are the quickly-erected, simple tract homes necessitated by the baby boom. Sprinkled among them are 1920s & 30s brick bungalows, and a couple of much older homes in the “farm mansion” style.

I pedaled up Waddell, and on my right I saw a line of 5 houses that stuck out like a white rose in a red rose bouquet (see photo above). Simple, square homes with an abundance of glass and carports providing a sense of sweeping asymmetry. A glance down Comstock revealed an even longer line of the same houses. A pedal down the street revealed two courts full of variations on this theme!

As I stood at the entrance to Marla Court (map, above), memories of Darla Court rushed forth; Darla Court being a Jetsons duplex village I accidentally discovered in the bowels of Jennings, MO. Darla in the North… Marla in the South… freaking out, in a good way.

Above is a good example of a relatively untouched version of the homes in this little mid-century pocket. All of the homes in this style were built between 1957 and 1958. Each one was originally 952 square feet with one bathroom and central air. These small homes were given a bit of modern drama by treating the standard-height front rooms to 5 transom windows following the slope of the roof line. The steel tubes supporting the roof overhang and carport are placed at the jaunty angles which separated modern from traditional.

This being South St. Louis, tinkering with our homes is a pre-requisite, so of course there is some remodeling. “Stone” siding and shutters were an original cosmetic variation on the theme, while the boarding up of the transom windows and the curly-cue iron columns (above) feels like a form of beating back some of the peskier modern features.

Most of the homes have opted to cover the wood roof soffits with vinyl, which is a normal function of upkeep. But I was charmed by how most everyone kept the wide variety of colors when it came time to replace the siding (above).

All of the houses were the same, yet there is just enough original – and new – detail to make each one interesting in its own right. I was also pleased to see every home occupied and in pristine condition, with neighbors of all ages playing in the street and puttering around the yards. I wonder if being part of a slightly secluded neighborhood of similar houses contributes to the distinct community feel.

Check out the above drastic remodel. Not only did they change the orientation of the siding and the windows from horizontal to vertical, they also added a second story. I love that they went for such radical departures while still honoring the basic lines of the house, and thus the neighborhood. Also, it’s a bit shocking that they are the only house to add a 2nd story in order to gain some square footage.

In the court part of Comstock comes a variation on the basic architectural theme, what I refer to as the Flat Front Model. These homes went in later, from 1961 – 1965, and were slightly larger at 988 square feet and with 2 bathrooms. There was one of these models for sale at the time I took these pictures, and according to the realty listing, that house added a great room to the backside for more square footage, while leaving the front relatively untouched. It had a list price of $149,900.

The Flat Fronts are riper for renovation, with most of them converting carports into garages. Or in the case of the home directly above, the carport became a sunroom, and everything gets a rustic look with cedar siding. But in general, I am impressed with how much of the original stylistic intent remains among all the remodeling; it’s a testament to the flexibility of these homes that so much D.I.Y. can occur without altering the basic flavor of this one-off development.

Kirkwood Paranoia?

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East Monroe Avenue, Kirkwood MO
Does it seem like we’re being watched?
It kinda feels like someone is breathing down my neck.
Is my privacy being violated, or am I just paranoid?

There is Teardown Fever in Kirkwood. I swear to you that every other block has at least one house demolished to build anew. These new developers deserve a prop: They leave up as many trees as possible. They even fence off what is to be saved so no accidental bulldozing happens. Not sure if it’s a Kirkwood City Hall requirement, or just some really savvy home builders. Either way, it’s an appreciated gesture.

But in the case of the in-fill home pictured above right… I hope the people in the single-story Grey House know the owners of the new Victorian mansion being built right up against it. And know them well enough to not mind being seen by them in their underwear. If they don’t know each other, the back side of the Grey House may be awfully dark with the blinds drawn 24/7.

The new Victorian’s front does face out onto the side street, but it has a rather broad, tall and looming north side that pretty much bullies the house in front of it. The Victorian’s detached garage is even right up against the Grey House backyard fence. Nothing stopped it from being built like that, so I guess no zoning laws are being violated.. other than privacy.

Alternatives To The Absurd: Retail Development

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Bravo to Steve Patterson for this achingly good re-think of how Loughborough Commons could have been. This plan – and the other ideas it inspired – is so damn good that I can picture myself there, lovin’ it. Now I’m absolutely irritated that we don’t have something as utterly cool as this. Makes the waste of such a humungous piece of urban land even more galling and sad.

Hey, Desco, does anything in the Urban Review plan make you smack your forehead with a “D’oh!”? Perhaps a “shit” hissed under your breath as you realized the profit potentials completely missed because of stilted copy cat thinking? At least try to contemplate more logical ways of doing things, and then check this out.

Manchester Avenue & Rock Hill, St. Louis County, MO

This is what used to be at the location shown above.

I adored it. It was senselessly demolished. That still irritates me. So, there’s no disguising my dislike for anything Market at McKnight.

So, I don’t actually “see” the buildings so much as I see how they are placed. The above photo is looking west down Manchester, and all buildings as far as the eye can see are part of this new plaza. And they are up against the street!

This part of Manchester has never looked like this. Rock Hill was the manifestation of the mid-century suburban ideal. Most of the buildings are in First Period Automobile, meaning buildings that were purposely designed with a strip of single-width parking directly in front to accommodate motorists. Hell, that’s the very reason they put the dearly departed double bat wing at this intersection: It Was Motor City.

This is also a part of town where sidewalks are very erratic, if they exist at all. Because the original line of thinking had been: who needs sidewalks in the car-centric ‘burbs? But suddenly, here is a new version of the strip mall forcing sidewalks to be poured because it’s pushing the curb?
How bizarre.

They even carry part of this “urbanity” up Rock Hill Road (above), putting mass where mass never was before. Sure, they blow the use of the actual corner with what I mentally refer to as the Phillips 66 Double Wing Memorial Park & Mausoleum. Unless it transforms into an elaborate bus stop, ain’t a single soul that will ever use that prime piece of real estate. But, hey, not my problem…

So, suburban Rock Hill goes “urban” while current and planned retail developments in the city are just clapped out retreads of interstate design that’s been boring customers since the late 1990s. The lack of emotional and financial intelligence on the part of our City Money Fathers can sometimes manifest itself as silly smear slogans, which just prove they don’t get it, and stubbornly refuse to get it. Then I read the following, which is so correctly and brilliantly put that anyone can understand it:

There are few harsher indictments against architecture than the sadness we feel at the arrival of the bulldozers, for our grief is, in almost all cases, fuelled more by a distaste for what is to be built than by any hatred of the idea of development itself.
Alain de Botton, The Architecture of Happiness

The above passage already has an editorial comment, courtesy of Bohemian Hill:

Mr. Yummy’s

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Mr. Yummy’s @ Bates & Ulena
South St. Louis, MO
“Livers, Gizzards & Wings… oh my.”
It’s an oft-heard reaction to one of the signs on the Mr. Yummy’s building. Mr. Yummy’s is my neighborhood’s touchstone; it’s unique and endearing with a curious connection to the past. Because of all this, I’ve been sitting on some information about the place for most of the year.

This past winter, the owner and proprietor of this venerable take-out burger and shake shop tacked up a For Sale sign. While this tiny little sign rattled my cranium, I also realized that he hadn’t bothered to include his contact information. Rather than a serious bid to sell the place, maybe it was just a physical manifestation of some form of frustration he felt?

My worry is what the sale of this place could do to the neighborhood. Is it possible for someone to buy it and continue to run it as a neighborhood burger joint? Or is it more likely that someone could buy it for the property alone and do something heinous to it (like rezone and build a McMansion!)?

Mr. Yummy’s is an odd little anachronism that could only survive in this part of town. The owner is a war veteran (I’m assuming Vietnam, because he doesn’t look old enough to have been in the Korean) who freely dispenses liberal political views as he grills up burgers so greasy that they saturate their brown paper bags, and will slip out onto the pavement if you don’t know better than to hold it from the bottom.

He has always had the ultimate working hours: 10 a.m. – 5-ish p.m. There was always a huge lunchtime crowd of construction and utility company workers dining in their trucks, scattered across the large parking lot. Then there was the underage after school crowd who bought sodas and ice cream treats as a pass to simply hang out. And then there’s the newspaper machine and the only working pay phone within a mile radius, which still has people hanging from it all hours of the day.

Taking a look at the public records of Mr. Yummy’s, seems that very pay phone was “grandfathered” in a 1998 permit transaction. Surprising to me is the age of the building: Fast Food – No Seating 520 s.f. brick and wood structure built in 1925! Was it a gas station at one point, or always some kind of food establishment?

I have talked with some 40- to 50-something folks who grew up in the neighborhood, and it has been “an ice cream stand” for as long as they could remember. The current owner bought the place in 1978 for $10,000, and now he just must be tired. He was lightly adhering to his abbreviated winter hours when the For Sale sign went up. Now that it’s spring, it seems he opens up on a whim; I drive by every evening hoping to see his doors open, hoping that he’ll get back into the swing of it and reconsider. If he’s open twice a week, it’s a miracle.

Very recently, the owner added a 2nd For Sale sign smack on the outside corner of the lot. It’s very tiny, and still lacks contact information, but now more people are noticing that the place is on the sale block. Look to the right of the above picture and see how a neighborhood car salvage guy is now using the back part of the parking lot for his overflow. This is not a good thing, not good at all.

A 5.11.07 building inspection turned up 5 violations that remain unresolved. I’m supposin’ the owner put up his 2nd For Sale sign in reaction to that. I decided to finally say something about it with the hopes that someone will want to save the place… none of us want our neighborhood mascot to go away or be radically altered. It’s hard to bear the weight of an era sighing to an end. Fingers crossed that there’s an optimistic new chapter.