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EB Realty Management has released renderings for North Broad's Metropolitan Opera House and, well, it looks like the Met we know with purple lights and a "Box Office" sign.
Without it's pediment and crown restored, it gives of an Eastern State Penitentiary vibe, a preserved state of decay. In some ways, like Eastern State, that's quite beautiful. And on an Avenue that hasn't quite figured out what it wants to be, it could be incredibly unique.
Considering developers Eric Blumenfeld and Billy Procida have been teasing us with the notion that the Met will host one of the "nation's biggest concert promoters," it seems they'd have the prospective funds to completely restore the Met to it's original grandeur. But Blumenfeld and Procida have proven themselves unconventional developers with an admiration for beleaguered brick and mortar.
We know the Met won't be showing operas, at least not conventional ones. Those venturing up North Broad for a concert won't be looking for a classical venue, but something unique. The Met's current facade offers just that, and perhaps that's why Blumenfeld and Procida chose to leave it as-found.
Not that anyone cares, but I'd offer only two changes: track down it's rooftop and sidewalk signage.
There's a scene in the movie Twelve Monkeys where a homeless preacher (from the future) is prophesying outside of the abandoned opera house, and it's deteriorating sign hangs in the background.
Find it, and reinstall it. In the 1990s, the Met sign was every bit a part of North Broad's cultural legacy as the Divine Lorraine's, and you know someone has it stored in a barn somewhere.
That said, as Philadelphia's historic theater's go, we've had some losses. But the preservation of the Met exponentially outweighs the loss of places like the Boyd. The Boyd was a cinematic, Art Deco beauty. Not the best, but the best - and only - we had left. But the Met was and is something else. Something iconic from it's inception. It's salvation, even in it's current state, is a win for preservation in this city.
If the hopeful Jacob Adelman at the Inquirer is any indication, the Divine Lorraine might soon live up to its name. What do I mean? Well, with the Divine Lorraine's redevelopment possibly beginning this month, this will likely be the catalyst North Broad Street has long needed.
Let's back up though. Like anything regarding the Divine Lorraine, it's easy to be skeptical. When the Divine Lorraine was occupied by the International Peace Movement Mission, it was a budget hotel with strange rules owned by an even stranger religious cult. It wasn't exactly signaling any key players to invest in North Broad. But it was keeping North Broad Street alive. Think of it as Market East's Strawbridge & Clothier. As soon as its doors were shuttered, an era was over, and the only thing capable of saving the corridor was massive reinvention.
Since the Divine Lorraine closed its doors in 2000, it became nothing but an old building in a bad part of town no developers wanted anything to do with. For several years, a lone member of the International Peace Movement Mission lived onsite as its caretaker, keeping away graffiti artists and urban explorers. But when it was sold to a foreign investor in 2006, it was gutted, sold for scrap, and left for dead.
That's when the elements took over.
To those unfamiliar with a Divine Lorraine before it was tagged with "BONER FOREVER," or unfamiliar with cities before the 21st Century, the dumpy hotel wasn't unusual. In fact, the only thing strange about the Divine Lorraine were its owners - the cult of Father Divine - and the fact that it had remained in near-original condition.
As a hotel, the city was full of similar budget beds, even in nice Center City neighborhoods. Throughout the late 20th Century, places like the Adelphia House and the Spruce Parker offered similarly sparse amenities for a few bucks a night, or a few more for the week or month.
Perhaps it was the cult's rules - such as no "undo mixing of the sexes," no alcohol or drugs, and a strict dress code - that kept its tenants respectful and the structure intact. Even in its current state, though, the Divine Lorraine holds an air of mystery and a unique sense of optimism for this otherwise struggling corridor, especially amongst those who remember seeing its lights on.
For fifteen years, most developers have only seen it as blight, but residents have seen divinity. But in the last few years, the Divine Lorraine has even seemed to enrapture even some of the most bottom-lined developers. In 2012, Eric Blumenfeld purchased the property and has been promising to redevelop it ever since. Having developed several other properties on North Broad, Blumenfeld has a vested interest in the corridor. But he has also expressed a passionate interest in the Divine Lorraine itself. Like Blumenfeld, Billy Procida, a developer who helped reinvent New York's Hell's Kitchen, was equally wooed by the Divine Lorraine, and agreed to contribute $30M towards its renovation.
So what now? Well, like the Divine Lorraine, we wait. It's impossible to know what will happen if and when the Divine Lorraine reopens its doors. Ridge Avenue has gradually been getting redeveloped from both the east and west, inching its way towards the Divine Lorraine, so now seems as good as time as any to get started.
What will happen to the properties along North Broad pose the bigger questions. Even with four restaurants planned for Divine Lorraine, will it foster an island of development at this lone intersection, or will it encourage more developers to get on board. After all, the Divine Lorraine isn't the only landmark laying in wait. The fate of the Metropolitan Opera House is unknown and the Inquirer Building has sat empty since the newspaper moved to Market East. It seems everyone is waiting to see what will happen to the Divine Lorraine.
In a city that's no stranger to demolishing our aging landmarks for speculative development, the most unique page in the Divine Lorraine's history book may be that no one, not one developer has proposed its demolition. For decades, it was a jewel in the crown of North Broad and the International Peace Movement Mission's portfolio of historic architecture. Perhaps Father Divine is still watching over his Divine Lorraine Hotel.
Eric Blumenfeld of EB Reality, "the guy behind the Divine Lorraine," seems to have his hands full these days. His Mural Arts Lofts on Spring Garden near Broad Street has been fenced off for some time, and now it comes with a rendering.
And what a rendering it is.
The building has been a no-brainer for quite a while. It's a handsome old school, scaled perfectly for residences. And it comes with quite a bit of undeveloped land perfect for both public or private outdoor space.
So I'm not sure what happened. It's circular driveway seems to cry out to the bros squatting in the basements of their parents' New Jersey McMansions, begging them to move downtown. I'm not sure I hate it, but the last thing it says is "Loft Living."
Curbed provided a rendering of Eric Blumenfeld's renovated Divine Lorraine Hotel provided by EB Realty Management.
If you think a rendering of an existing building isn't that exciting, consider the fact that most of us have never seen the Divine Lorraine Hotel sign illuminated in neon.
Eat your heart out, PSFS.
And check out the crowd hanging out on the sixth floor terrace. It looks like a scene from Spider-Man.
