"Obsolete" and "Blighted" Neighborhoods

This was the plan that basically condemned a large portions of the buildings inside Grand as "obsolete." While it might be trivial, much of what was labeled thus was in fact torn down. "Blighted" areas are now some of the most prized, and in some cases, the most troubled areas of the city today. Thank God they didn't get their way completely.

What They Wanted to Do to Soulard

This was the plan to completely demolish Soulard and turn it into the suburbs.

Stacy Park/Reservoir

Few people passing by on Olive Street Road in Creve Coeur realize they're passing a 100 million gallon reservoir for the City of St. Louis.

Built in conjunction with the Howard Bend Treatment Plant in the early 20th Century, the reservoir received water pumped uphill from the plant, and then gravity took the water downhill to the city.

There are a couple of interesting buildings around the site, and interestingly, I did not see a single sign stating the purpose of the structure. If you look at Google maps, you can see there is a right-of-way going east from the reservoir that is probably the path of the water pipe.

Howard Bend Water Plant

Most people don't know it, but much of the water for the City of St. Louis (and some sold to St. Louis and St. Charles counties) comes in via the Howard Bend Water Treatment Plant on the Missouri River, fifteen miles from the city limits.

It is a massive, complex, with its towering smokestack, and it possesses a incongruous presence among the lowlands and farm fields around it.

Five Year Anniversary Post: A Manichaean Choice? Preservation vs. Development

Five years ago today, when I started this website, I never imagined that I would be posting close to every day. In the first year, I posted anywhere from two to three times a week, at most. Somewhere along the line, though, I posted seven times in one week, and I've never stopped. Looking back, it's interesting to see places I've photographed repeatedly for five years, and places I've just started photographing this year. Sadly, the first building I photographed that was threatened with demolition was the Switzer Building on Laclede's Landing; five years later, the site still sits vacant, not even properly graded and planted with grass.

Why do I continue? Maybe it really is an addiction, but it's a very rewarding one. I love every comment you all send me, thanking me for exposing you to some new (old) building in some corner of the city. It's ironic, because for every "undiscovered" part of the city, there are hundreds of people living around it that have already known about it for years. I like to think though, that my work, and the work of my colleagues, is changing people's opinions of the city. If just one person moves to the city, buys a house and fixes it up before it gets demolished for "progress" then I feel I have accomplished something. If I can get at least a couple people to get over the odious pessimism that so often engulfs this city, then I consider my work meaningful.

I'm so proud of my friends for successfully rallying and saving the old Del Taco building on Grand; slated for demolition for being "undevelopable," it is now going to be developed into host two restaurants, perfect for the large student population around St. Louis University. Funny how a building can go from one to the other in the span of a couple of weeks, isn't it? Maybe it just has to do with your attitude?

Which brings me to the message I have for all of you on the fifth anniversary of this site.

This spring hasn't been good for historic preservation in St. Louis.

Buildings get demolished every year in St. Louis, but the loss of two icons of the region's architectural heritage are meeting (or have met) the wrecking ball as I write this. I understand that not every building will be saved in this war for protecting the built environment in St. Louis, but what truly disturbs me is the attitudes of the people condoning their demolition and their sarcastic dismissal of preservation. While there are certainly preservationists out there that support saving buildings at all cost, even it means they sit empty for a century, most people I know who support historic preservation do so out of practical reasons. It simply is more logical to reuse an existing, great-looking building than waste the energy to tear it down and replace it with something that will probably not last nearly as long as the original. The walls of my house are one foot thick; short of an earthquake or roof failure, do you think anything would make them budge? Compare that to nowadays, where the floors of new houses I visit in the suburbs shake when I walk across them (I weigh 160 lbs). The floors don't shake in my house when I walk across them. Coincidence? I think not...

Numerous politicians and unelected leaders, who shall go unnamed, believe that the preservation of historic architecture, is an either/or Manichaean choice; you can either have development, or you can have old buildings. The simplicity, the shear stupidity and arrogance of this belief is killing St. Louis. Can you name one major historic building demolished since World War II in St. Louis that has given the city a huge boost in either tax revenue or economic activity? I challenge anyone to explain why tearing down the Ambassador Theater, Real Estate Row or any of the thousands of anonymous houses around the city that were structurally sound has benefited the city. Do you realize that all of the neighborhoods now featured in tourism brochures for St. Louis were once seriously threatened with complete or partial demolition? Yes, someone once thought it would be a good idea to clear cut Soulard, Lafayette Square, most of downtown and pretty much every house inside Grand Boulevard at one time or another. Stand up to those who say economic activity is impossible without demolition, and I suggest that if pro-demolition zealots are so principled, they should recuse themselves from enjoying all of those great, revitalized neighborhoods mentioned above which were saved from the wrecking ball--from their type of people.

In closing I want to share two pictures submitted to me by reader Keith Raske of a bizarre sight on Lafayette Avenue and Nebraska, an area heavily decimated by "good ideas." Yes, it is a double-wide trailer set up on three vacant lots, right next to two handsome Italianate rowhouses. Who wants to place a bet on whether the double-wide or the rowhouses will still be standing in fifty years?

Is that what you want your city to become?

St. Louis Centre, Eviscerated

Alerted by posts at Vanishing St. Louis and the Preservation Research Office, I decided to use the new St. Louis Centre Memorial Parking Garage last Friday. That was a big mistake.

I had already seen the new exterior, but I wanted the opportunity to see the new parking garage built in the floors of the old mall. I must say, it is the most open, light-filled parking garage I have ever parked my car in, but when I tried to exit by a staircase, I was greeted by signs saying that the exit was for emergencies only. I had to go back up the stairs, checked to verify that there was in fact no sign saying that I couldn't use that staircase, and eventually just took an elevator down to 7th Street. What a bizarre place.

Castle Ballroom

The Castle Ballroom, nominated for the National Register of Historic Places, is a little rough around the edges right now, but is still a stable and important building.

One of the few buildings left from the historic Mill Creek neighborhood, the ballroom provided entertainment for around fifty years.

While it's described as Renaissance Revival in the nomination, I would have to disagree; it is more of a severe example of classical revival architecture, though I see one element, the curved lintel over the first floor door is inspired by the architecture of Michelangelo.

Originally red brick, it was painted the garish yellow sometime later. Though in St. Louis, with its wide variety of colored bricks, it is sometimes hard to tell.

My Arm, Wildwood

My arm, accidentally photographed somewhere around Glencoe, Missouri.

One of The Last Farms in Chesterfield

Will this farm be turned into a subdivision one day? I hope not since it sits right on Clarkson Road, reminding everyone how much better the county could have turned out.

Orrville, Wildwood

Orrville, a small town buried deep back in the wooded hills of northeastern Wildwood, sits just off of old Eatherton Road.

The country store building survives, but is now a private residence.

This is the only town where I was able to photograph all of the buildings in town.

Rock Hill Presbyterian, Totally Gone

I drove over to Rock Hill Presbyterian last Thursday, expecting to see some jagged walls sticking out of the ground, slightly more dismantled than I had seen it the Saturday before. Instead, I saw nothing. The church was completely gone, and I gasped when it dawned on me what had happened. According to the Post-Dispatch, they took it down "carefully" in three hours, numbering stones as they went. I seriously doubt that. What a joke.

Fairfax House, bizarrely floating on steel stilts, had been moved to its corner of purgatory on the north end of the site, ridiculously close to the road and completely devoid of context. I feel bad for all of the people who have worked so hard restoring it to its past appearance.

Anyways, it's been long established that the leadership of Rock Hill are a bunch of revenue addicts, willing to do anything--even sell their grandmother's wedding ring, or historic church--for their next fix. I predict here now that at least one, possibly two, of the currently operating gas stations in Rock Hill will go out of business in the six months after the UGas opens. It will be interesting, and depressing, to see if the fiefdom even comes out of this with more tax revenue than before they sold their community's soul.

But what's truly pathetic is the decision of the Giddings-Lovejoy Presbytery to sell such an historic church to UGas, fully aware that it would mean its demise. Sure, it was the smart business decision, but certainly not the smart moral decision. While I'm sure the Presbytery had full legal title to the church, I would argue that they did not hold the spiritual title to it. It belongs to the slaves, immigrants and the generations of members who first built and then attended services for almost 170 years. Was their hard work and devotion so meaningless?

Rarely Seen Views, St. Liborius

Perhaps as enjoyable as viewing the interior of the church was the chance to step into the private, intimate spaces behind the scenes of the church.

For example, the angles created by the exterior of the apse as it butted up against the bridge to the rectory, or the steps that descend down into the basement.

The building's stout walls will last for centuries, but the near future of the church will determine in what condition it will remain in the coming decades.

Below, the stained glass windows still line the hall of the bridge between the church and rectory, one of the most unique elements of this complex.

The rectory itself is a large building, with fascinating courses of glazed brick interspersed with the typical red brick.

The fuse box, no longer hooked up to electricity, is most likely part of the earliest wiring of the church.

A yellowed sign explains the operation of the system, though it is of no use now.

The parish hall, in the cellar, has been cut up into smaller rooms, but some of the original paint remains.

The grotto out back, facing away from the street, has miraculously avoided serious vandalism. This is the second historic church I have visited in North St. Louis in the last couple of months, and every time, I get a sad sense that I am witnessing the passing of an era. In fact, I get much of the same feeling viewing these churches as when I'm visiting ancient Roman ruins in Italy, even though those are obviously much older. What caused the Roman Catholic church to give up on this church? Was it a lack of will, or just a sad, realistic realization that there was no reason to keep the church open? Was it no different than when the Romans abandoned the Coliseum? Was there just simply no money or manpower left to keep it open any longer? Perhaps the most sad realization for me is that if even the beautiful St. Liborius can be abandoned and forgotten, then anywhere can, including the places I cherish.

The Fine Arts, St. Liborius

The most stunning aspect of the interior of St. Liborius are the massive painted lunettes above the arcades of the nave and transepts.

While most of the paintings were shrouded in darkness, I could pick out a couple of scenes at the beginning and end.

At the presumed beginning was the Nativity of Christ, and on the opposite place on the wall across the nave was the Resurrection, so I am going to guess that the rest of the paintings focus on the life of Christ.

I have no idea what the scene of a young Christ handing a cross to his parents is all about.

The stained glass is likewise beautiful, though some of the best pieces by Tiffany were sold decades ago and replaced with clear glass.

The high altar, described to me as originally being incredibly ornate and constructed of white marble, has been decimated. I don't know exactly when or why, but the high altar was stripped of most of its marble. What remains gives you a bit of a clue about how it once appeared.

The transept altars didn't fare much better, as this one attests, completely stripped of its marble veneer.

St. Liborius, A Desolate and Beautiful Interior

One of my favorite churches in North St. Louis, which I've looked at before here and here, is St. Liborius, anchoring the bend in North Market Street in the St. Louis Place neighborhood.

This weekend, the owners allowed visitors to come inside and view the interior, and brainstorm for possible uses for the massive, Gothic Revival church.

The church is a version of a German hallkirche, with relatively de-emphaisized transepts. All attention is therefore focused towards the high altar.

The massive compound Gothic columns hold up intricately detailed and well-preserved groin vaulting.

The choir loft is in bad condition, and the organ is largely gone.

The original gold leaf on the vaulting of the apse is well preserved and extremely beautiful.

Some of the original tracery and mosaic tile is preserved in patches around the church such as you can see here.

The complex, foliated designs on the capitals of the columns are also unique, and still possess their original paint.

Surrounding the front door are thick brick walls, supporting the tall spire above.

The owners are looking for help or a possible buyer for the church. If you have a good idea, and some money, you should help out.