Odd Bedfellows: Frankford Chocolate Factory

Inga Saffron's articles at the Philadelphia Inquirer and Daily News are some of the region's most "don't miss" reading. And like some of the best binge-worthy television shows, most are great, but occasionally there's that one that truly stands out as astounding. If the architectural critiques found within Philly.com were Season 3 of Twin Peaks, today's column is easily Part 8, right down to its inexplicable and stunning nuclear detonation. 

Hard hitting and investigative journalism is hard to find in the age of the internet. In the column titled, "What's the connection between a Philly blogger and the demolition of the Washington Ave. chocolate factory?," Saffron expands well beyond the confines of architectural design reviews and local development news to explain exactly why the "fuddy-duddy legacy media" still matters. Held (mostly, we hope) to journalistic ethics standards, the legacy media, especially print (and its online counterpart), enforces conflict of interest guidelines, clearly notes sponsored content, and resists click-bait and high-revenue-generating infotainment. In a frenzied 24-hour news cycle competing for advertisers, it's easy to overlook when some of the largest media outlets (looking at you CNN and FoxNews) treat fact checking like old hat.

But they're also competing with the internet's vacuum of anonymity: blogs, message boards, YouTube videos, even user generated content in the comments sections. That the legacy media of print journalism and the nightly network news have managed to survive, barely, amid an echo chamber of subjectivity doing little more than preaching to its own choir is utterly amazing. That Saffron managed to use its platform to turn on that very blogosphere in an objective and insightful way is unprecedented, and it's why she has a Pulitzer Prize. 

Like Starr Herr-Cardillo's column for Hidden City, Saffron points out the shady connection between Point Breeze developer Ori Feibush's demolition of the Frankford Chocolate Factory and Dennis Carlisle, a.k.a., GroJLart, blogger, contributor to Hidden City. and long-time favorite foul-mouth of architecture nerds throughout the tri-state area and beyond. In short (you should really read both columns for yourself), Carlisle had nominated the Frankford Chocolate Factory to be placed on the Historic Register in December. In January he was hired by Ori Feibush's firm, OCF Reality. In March, still writing for Hidden City, an outlet championing above all historic preservation, he appeared before the Historical Commission to retract its nomination, a retraction that was denied. To ultimately bring the factory down, Feibush hired his own engineers to deem the building unsafe, and demolition was finally granted by the Historical Commission and L&I. 

By then, Carlisle's identity as GroJLart had been exposed, at least to the small, but vocal community of preservationists familiar with his work. 

Herr-Cardillo's column delved into the nitty-gritty of the unusual process that led to the factory's demolition, but it was uncharacteristically passionate for the outlet. With GroJLart's columns aside, Hidden City can be described as dry. Those who love architecture and local history routinely pour through its virtual pages, but the articles might be too lengthy and bespoke for some's taste. After speaking with Herr-Cardillo briefly on Instagram, she used the word "hopeless," a sentiment all of us vested in the city's built history can surely sympathize with right now. Those at Hidden City undoubtedly felt duped by Dennis Carlisle. 

The fact that no laws were clearly broken in order to raze a building on the National Register, that Feibush could refuse an independent engineering assessment in lieu of engineers he himself hired to deem the property unsafe, categorically puts every historic building in Philadelphia in jeopardy. We've seen this all play out before in one way or another, the most insidious tactic being the economic hardship exemption that allows developers to demolish often historic structures when they can prove renovation or reuse unprofitable, as if millionaire developers deserve the same exception that the variance was designed for. "Hopeless" is really the only way to describe how preservationists, and people who simply love what Philadelphia is, feel right now.  

Saffron took a somewhat different route in her column, calling out the odd marriage of a demolition-happy developer and a journalist focused on historic properties, and particularly the fact that the OCF Realty employee who retracted the factory's historic nomination was anonymously moonlighting as a preservation-minded writer. In general, she pointed out how this is another example of the dangers of anonymity in journalism, comparing Carlisle to none other than FoxNews muckraker, Sean Hannity. 

Without a massive overhaul of multiple layers within the city government - L&I, the Historical Commission, the Register - it's clear this is just getting started, especially with a growing population and an inexplicable demand for more new construction in a city with an abundance of handsome and affordable old homes. In a New Philadelphia that would consider everything I've personally lived in a "shell" just because it's cheaper to tear down than add central air, nearly every house in the city is threatened by developers. Like Pearl Properties' demolition of the Boyd Theatre's auditorium, Southern Land Company's razing of nearby Sansom Street, and Toll Brothers at Jewelers Row and the Society Hill Playhouse, Ori Feibush is another in a line of developers providing more blueprints for how to abuse the intended purpose of our city agencies. 

Of course Feibush might be the lowest common denominator, evident in his shoddy construction and poorly chosen architectural merit. Unlike the others mentioned, Feibush is a slumlord for the upper-middle class and behaves every bit as erratic. Private developers are capitalists who begrudgingly work within (or around) city ordinances to turn a handsome profit. It speaks to arrogance, and perhaps even more conflict of interest, that a private developer would run for office as Feibush did in 2015, a trait he shares with President Donald Trump. 

Like Trump, Feibush hasn't kept professionally silent when challenged. Instead of deferring to lawyers and spokespeople, Feibush has taken to Facebook to defend the demolition of the Frankford Chocolate Factory. Using a handful of dimly lit videos of damp rooms within the factory, he seemingly "proved" that it was in imminent danger of collapse. Never mind the fact that it looked like any warehouse that had sat empty for a decade about to be rehabbed, apparent to any developer or architect who has converted a factory in Brewerytown, Callowhill, Fishtown, or Kensington; attempting to justify his actions on Facebook was an unnecessary means to keep himself in the spotlight inviting more critics to rake him over the coals. 

As the bottom rung of online media, social media is a juvenile platform to speak to those who've already made up their minds. Friends of his will vocally agree, pointing to the videos of an abandoned warehouse to say "good riddance." Opponents might view them with frustration, ignore them, or call out images so blatantly designed to look bad before Facebook's firing squad. None of this matters because, on social media especially, opinions can't be swayed. 

Professional demolition men, nefarious as the likes of Toll Brothers can be, know how to keep quiet until the dust settles. Dennis Carlisle knew to go dark on social media the second he was outed as GroJLart. Maybe Feibish should have spent some time reading Carlisle's columns and heeded what he once had to say about historic preservation and architecture instead of just hiring him for his pending historic nomination. Or maybe, like our President, Feibush will continue to buy his way throughout the poorest parts of the city, remaking them in his cheap and tacky image, fired up by columnists who might as well be resurrecting Graydon Carter's riotous Spy magazine until he's got enough personal social media stock to run for Mayor and really fuck things up. 

That f-bomb's for you, GroJLart. We all need jobs, and I know how easy it is to sell out. 

Bait and Switch at Jewelers Row?

Philadelphia's architecture czar, Inga Saffron, is nothing if not critical and she hasn't held back when it comes to Toll Brothers' proposed tower for historic Jewelers Row. When she referred to SLCE's rendering as a "zombie" back in February she may have been speaking about more than just the vacant aesthetic of the building, but the likelihood that the proposal is already dead. Among all parties involved - the Design Advocacy Group, the Preservation Alliance, the Historical Commission, L&I, and City Hall; not to mention numerous online journals like PhillyMag and Curbed Philly - Saffron seems to be the only one willing to sift through the mounting meta data that suggests exactly that.

Toll Brothers has already received approval from the city and returned to the drawing board more than the two required of the Design Advocacy Group, yet the site remains motionless and no timelines have been offered. Aside from readying the proper paperwork, Toll Brothers is likely assessing the profitability of the endeavor, if they ever planned to embark upon construction themselves at all. 

As Saffron pointed out, Toll Brothers has done this before. Abandoning a project that ultimately meant the demolition of the historic Society Hill Playhouse and the redevelopment of a vacant lot on Rittenhouse Square, Toll Brothers simply readied the sites for development then flipped the land for a profit. 

Until the latest rendering, Toll's tower on Jewelers Row didn't have any private balconies, one of its largest criticisms considering it is intended to be a luxury residential property. It looked more like an office building. They've since added balconies, but only nine and all pointed north, none facing Washington Square Park. 

It's becoming clear that this is less of a realistic proposal and more a marketing brochure for speculators. Of course, if Toll flips it to a developer more attune to urban architecture, and certainly more daring, this may be good for Jewelers Row. When it comes to urban development, nothing is worse for an eclectic location than a publicly traded company that traffics in the status quo. Toll Brothers isn't necessarily bad at what they do: clear-cutting farmland for bloated mini-mansions. But high-rises and skyscrapers aren't disposable and they alter our skylines ideally forever. SLCE's best rendering to date is blandly corporate, but this is characteristic for Toll Brothers. 

The firm doesn't aim at wealthy eccentrics who want to live in a work of art. They aim squarely at the upper tier of the middle class, a wide range of consumers with disposable income who like trendy sameness. They aim at consumers who shop at Whole Foods and lease BMWs. They aim for the most people with the most money. And sadly, most people don't like bold architecture or care enough about history to sacrifice amenities and luxuries. 

But flipping it to another developer is also an architectural gamble. Any firm that could afford Toll's ready-to-build site will be looking for the same exponential profit. SLCE's most recent rendering may simply be a best case scenario, one that could result in demolition for far blander, low-rise infill. A similar bait-and-switch played out on the 1100 block of Chestnut where CREI commissioned a rendering of Winka Dubbeldam's wild Unknot Tower only to flip the land for Blackney Hayes' Collins apartments, the exact kind of dull-your-senses infill we could get out of Jewelers Row.

Unfortunately, given that this probable outcome isn't a bigger source of contention suggests that all those involved in historic preservation aren't intuitively prepared for this scenario. Looking back on this and similar situations, the Preservation Alliance, Design Advocacy Group, and neighborhood organizations look foolish questioning the aesthetics of buildings developers never intended to build. Buildings are astronomical efforts, and much of that comes from just the initial bureaucracy of getting them approved. I'd be curious to hear Toll's response if someone at the Design Advocacy Group had asked if they actually intended on building this tower. 

Savvy developers have gotten good at using bureaucracy to their advantage. With far more resources at their disposal than advocacy groups, lengthy meetings and flashy renderings distract preservationists from inferring what may be happening behind the scenes. Preservationists too often wind up looking like children fussing over a drawing, while developers and their lawyers laugh their way through red tape.

Philadelphia's Polished Turd

In Inga Saffron's latest article, she refers to Brickstone's East Chestnut development as a "Cinderella transformation," and spends a lot of words gushing about Blackney Hayes traditional design for The Collins, named for the Oppenheim, Collins & Co. department store the developer partially demolished. 

Don't get me wrong, I'm one of Saffron's biggest fans. My mom referred to her as "a modern day Ayn Rand," and politics aside, I tend to agree. Her passion for architecture as art has helped elevate her readers' demands for quality design well above the expectations in bigger and "better" cities. And more to the point, her articles - including this one - avoid the academic mumbo-jumbo that plague architectural critiques and alienate lay readers in the Times.

But on East Chestnut, I don't see a Cinderella Story, at least not one that turns a peasant into a princess. A DelCo prom queen, maybe. East Chestnut Street's renaissance, one piece in the larger transformation taking place east of Broad, isn't a fairy tale bringing about something uniquely special. It isn't Walnut Street, Passyunk Square, The Piazza, or even South Street. From the Convention Center District to what I loathe to call Midtown Village, the change unfolding is textbook urban-suburbanization carbon copied from second rate cities around the country. 

And Philadelphia is better than Indianapolis. 

Although East Chestnut is currently seeing a few quirky independent and local businesses emerge from the wreckage of 1976's ridiculous Chestnut Street Transway, the trend won't stick. Philly Cupcake already closed due to increased rent, MilkBoy is on its way to South Street, and I Goldberg is looking for a new home. The Collins, and NREA's East Market a block away, will put a lot of residents east of Broad and even more pedestrians on the sidewalks, but don't expect the kinds of locals that transformed West Walnut Street to be filling their beds. 

East Chestnut's transformation, and more broadly East Market's, is not one of local wizardry. It isn't the dynamic and uniquely Philadelphian approach that piqued the nation's interest in the early 2000s and put us back on the map. It isn't Susanna Foo and Alma de Cuba and Rouge and Astral Plane and all the weirdly fabulous places that made Philadelphia the "it" place to be for those in-the-know.

It's corporate. It's Target. And it's everything that demands more chains.

While PREIT's renovations at the Gallery may have stalled, there is no doubt in my mind that Market East is poised to take off. Curmudgeonly locals may claim that Market East will never be more than a Hooverville illuminated in LED ads for Dunkin' Donuts, but they'll be eating crow the moment East Market opens their doors. I'm not being optimistic when I say this. I don't like the model East Market and East Chestnut have chosen, but mark my words, there will be a crane on the Disney Hole in less than ten years. And it will be because of Target. 

Target is a beast, but it's a suburban beast, even when it's downtown. All you need to do is look to nearby cities to see what follows. The Target in Washington D.C. reinvented Columbia Heights, a neighborhood demographically similar to Market East, and it did so by cramming the trappings of suburbia into a mini-mall. The area surrounding it is chock full of luxury apartments, shiny and new, but in no way reminiscent of their environs. Columbia Heights now looks like its inner-suburban cousins in Clarendon and Crystal City, all thanks to Target, its only lingering urbanity the low income residents City Council requires they continue to house.

A block from our own City Hall without similar housing requirements in place, Market East and East Chestnut are poised to be even more bland because it will be empirically desirable to the Starbucks and beer swilling Basic B's and Bros. It will no doubt be lauded as "cool," but no one's really cool when everyone is.

Within a one or two block radius, Target will suck everything into its high-rent orbit. After its first Michael Graves tea kettle leaves the checkout aisle, it's only a matter of time before property owners begin upping their rent or selling out to national developers, before Cella Luxuria and Lapstone & Hammer start looking for other neighborhoods. We won't see the kind of organic transformation that created Walnut Street, instead we'll see University City downtown. Another Chipotle. A sushirrito joint. Another Starbucks. Then another. Then another. Then a Comcast Experience Store. Sure, that's just capitalism, but unchecked it eradicates diversity and creates neighborhoods for the most mundane un-individals. New Philadelphians who dedicate Instagram accounts to Chipotle despite what happens to their bodies seven hours later.

These are people who don't get cities, and don't get local businesses. These are people who look at the corner dry cleaner with disdain and say, "that would make such a great gastropub." These are the people who will be Market East. And they'll be the first to leave when their kids reach pre-k and realize just how bad our schools are, because they helped crowd-fund a beer garden instead of a library.

It's not necessarily bad for Center City, at least as a whole, or financially. Downtown Philadelphia needed a place to dump its suburban garbage, and ever since Kmart closed, people have needed a place to buy kitty litter and toothpaste. Target - three of them in fact - is our answer. But don't fool yourself into thinking that the 1100 block of Chestnut Street is some kind of Cinderella Story unless your notion of Cinderella picked up her gown under the fluorescent glow of a Target and chucked it into a shopping cart next to a box of Tampax and a plastic barrel of cheese balls. 

East Chestnut and the greater Market East vicinity is undergoing a transformation, but it's purely pragmatic. A place for auto-tethered Millennials to pretend they're being urban and conventioneers to find a little piece of Oklahoma City. It's going to be big, it's going to be shiny, and it's going to change Center City Philadelphia. But the only thing that will make it unique is that it will upend everything that has made our city so special. 

Our individuality. 

Blatstein's Odyssey

Despite being panned by every check and balance laid in front of a building before being granted approval, Blatstein's towering domino is headed for its last stop: the Zoning Board. Inga Saffron had some choice words for the man she once advised in his much lauded Piazza at Schmidt's, and rightfully so. Every step of the man's quest to build this monstrosity at Broad and Washington has been backed up by his Piazza to claim, "I know what I'm doing." Yet he continuously fails to mention that were it not for Inga Saffron, Erdy-McHenry, and an uninvolved builder, the Piazza at Schmidt's would be a strip-mall, and Northern Liberties wouldn't be what it is.

The worst part about this ordeal isn't that this building is ugly or out of scale, or even the developmental anarchy Saffron outs in her article. It's that these five acres are integral in connecting Center City and South Philadelphia, and the transformation is being led by Blatstein's unchecked ego. The idiocies in this project are too numerable to mention and it's easy to wonder if the only thing letting it slide through the approval process is the fact that no one can condense the project's flaws into one coherent sentence. 

From its two towers lining the block's smallest streets instead of flanking its proud corner, its Kowloon-esque 1000 units, massive parking podium, to its retail rooftop Tiny Town that doesn't even offer any views, it's really hard to sum up a short and sweet explanation as to why it's so bad without simply saying, "it sucks." 

Broad and Washington

Designed by Cope Linder, well known - and well respected - in Philadelphia, it's quizzical as to how this happened. Cope Linder doesn't have a reputation for being as inventive as Erdy-McHenry, the firm behind Blatstein's Piazza, but they're certainly better than what we see headed for Broad and Washington. Considering Blatstein's smug arrogance aimed at the Design Advocacy Group, city planners, and the neighbors surrounding the block, it's not so hard to imagine how conversations between Cope Linder and their client may have gone down behind closed doors. Perhaps the firm simply threw up their hands and said, "if you want to bankrupt yourself with a money pit that will piss off the city, here it is!"

Unfortunately, were he to simply reinvent the Piazza at Broad and Washington, or bring something on par with NREA's East Market to the table, he'd not just be building something people want to live - and shop - in, he'd be bridging neighborhoods and driving complimentary development in its wake, exactly what happened in Northern Liberties. 

But this doesn't seem to know what it is. I'm all for height and density, but no one builds something so tall in an established low-rise neighborhood unless they're building low-income housing...in the 1960s. The comic book nerd in me can't help but look at this proposal without seeing a Mega City tower in Judge Dredd while my pessimist sees Kibrini Green, and neither is hopeful. If we learned anything from the building boom of the Bush era, it's that too many residential units can break a city. Miami is still struggling to fill its apartments and the average rent in Chicago is now lower than Philadelphia. We survived, and now thrive, because we didn't "pull a Blatstein" in 2005. 

But does Blatstein really want to put 1000 units at Broad and Washington? There's so much wrong with this project, and so many parties complaining, we really need to step back to see exactly what's happening here. Even an egomaniac like Blatstein must know that he'll never fill these towers, that his Tiny Town is a gamble, and a bad one. The only component that seems financially feasible, despite its impact on the surrounding communities, is the project's parking podium and big box retail spaces. And that, kids, is the bait-and-switch we'll likely see shortly after ground is broken. 

Philadelphia's Next Downtown

If you've been following local architecture news, you've seen Drexel's transformative Schuylkill Yards proposal and Amtrak's plans for the actual rail yard. It's a doozy. In fact, the last time anything this city-altering faced Philadelphia was when Broad Street Station was demolished and the central business district was moved from Old City to West Market.

Unfortunately, that massive demovelopment coincided with an exodus that saw Philadelphia lose the population of Atlanta. It took decades for the skyscrapers we now know as "downtown" to fill the void Broad Street Station left behind. More than fifty years later, there are still remnants of the "Chinese Wall" and massive parking lots in its wake.

Fortunately, the master plans taking shape west of the Schuylkill aren't being drawn with the same raze-and-pray approach that wrecked the historic Broad Street Station. But the idyllic renderings being thrown around the media and blogosphere should also be taken with a grain of salt. Keep in mind, the longest running of these concepts isn't meant to be completed until 2050. I'll be in my 70s, and I like to think I'm still young...ish. 

I'm not getting too excited because (if) these plans bring of a forest of skyscrapers to 30th Street Station three decades from now, I'll have to enjoy them from a virtual reality cafe in the floating city of New Miami (yes, I paraphrased a 30 Rock quote).

For a realistic look at these wild proposals, the definitive voice for Philadelphia architecture and development - Inga Saffron - has a pretty spot-on breakdown of at least four projects set to change what we think of University City, and "downtown" Philadelphia.

What we do know is something will happen. Drexel has partnered with Brandywine Realty Trust, and Brandywine is one of the region's largest real estate investors. When Brandywine's Cira South was proposed, it seemed like a pie-in-the-sky idea. Cira Centre itself was a Cesar Pelli work of art, but the audacious proposal for two more - maybe a third - Cira tower was a little too much for the Negadelphians of the early 21st Century to accept. But it happened, and it looks even better than it did when it was first pitched.

Considering Brandywine's investment in neighboring projects, and its proven ability to pull off a "master plan," it's a good sign for architecture fans that they've been tapped for Schuylkill Yards. Basically, they're a fan of good design, urbanism, and they get shit done.  

At the same time, keep in mind the renderings being passed around the internet are conceptual. Don't hold your breath for that whacky skyscraper in the middle. It will probably look a lot different when it happens, if it happens. Amtrak's plans for capping the railroad tracks are even more farfetched, and that's by no means a new idea. Property value in the vicinity would have to become so astronomically high that the expensive endeavor of building atop the tracks would outweigh creeping into Powelton Village and Mantua. Unlike Hudson Yards, Amtrak's plan doesn't have Manhattan humping its ass. 

Nevertheless, it's a very good sign that Philadelphia's developers and universities are looking at Philadelphia with optimism, and that Amtrak has recognized this city as a valuable hub. 

"This Town Needs an Enema"

Philadelphia is changing. For the first time in decades, maybe even a century, we're topping national and international "best of" lists. Buildings are rising, neighborhoods are improving, and national businesses are coming to our front door. We're on the brink of electing a new mayor. We're streamlining civil rights laws. All in all, Philadelphia is becoming one of the best and most relevant cities in the United States.

Of course every time Philadelphia takes a step forward, its worn and tattered sponges start slopping out of City Hall to soak up their piece of the good press. 

Councilman and City Council President, Darrell Clarke, is no exception when it comes to the archetypical politician. He's made a career out of exploiting his voters, stymying productive development in his district, and perhaps worst, not giving a shit what anyone really thinks of him. He's not unique. The sleaziest of sleazy politicos seem numb to their public image. Perhaps they operate under the Kardashian ideal that any press is good press, or maybe they just don't bother Googling their own names. But the audacity and brass balls of our cities most loathed politicians is indicative of personalities completely out of touch with not only their city, but human beings in general. They're borderline sociopathic. 

Philadelphia: Mondays on Fox

Inga Saffron took Clarke to task in a recent article regarding the introduction of a bill stealthily submitted while everyone is focused on the mayoral candidates. As Saffron points out, the bill doesn't look bad on paper. But successful (not to be confused with good) politicians know that bills need to be decorated with bright stickers and scented with potpourri if they stand a chance of passing. Or they just need to be too verbose for anyone to bother reading. 

So what's in the bill? Well, off the cuff it explains why Clarke didn't bother running for mayor. More specifically it reorganizes City Hall to require City Council approval of the city's head of the Office of Planning and Development. Why run for mayor when you can draft your own legislation that essentially grants you so much mayoral power? 

It's hard to understand how some politicians live with themselves. They've either become so detached from the realities of a city that they simply don't see how villainous they're behaving, or they truly are villains. Not to geek out, but at least Gotham's mayor answers to the scrutiny of his actions however evil or unjustified. Our city's worst hide behind dangerous legislature that grants them a pass to the Man Behind the Curtain. 

We have a few good men and women running for mayor this time around, but if Clarke gets his way, there may never be a day in which they are allowed to prove themselves. Our new mayor will be taking the brunt of City Council's decisions with no ability to address the problems they Council will create. Our new mayor won't just be City Council's puppet, they'll be The Whipping Boy standing in for Council's punishment while politicians like Clarke play fast and loose with the future of a city we've worked so hard to fix.

Center City's Final Frontier

Despite its approval by the Historical Commission, Baywood Hotels' proposed addition to the historic NFL Films headquarters has drawn the attention of preservationists to a forgotten pocket of Center City, perhaps the district's Final Frontier.

Inga Saffron's recent Inquirer article regarding the project paints a colorful depiction of this neighborhood - my neighborhood - and focuses on the liveliness of an area few know without dwelling on our overabundance of unwanted surface parking lots.

Unfortunately the piece sinks into the bystander effect of architectural journalism, praising the area for its quaintness and charm without really understanding anything about those of us who call it home.

While it's true that little has changed in this neighborhood's built environment since the early 20th Century, it's the unbuilt environment that has scarred it irreparably. While two or three streets managed to survive midcentury demolition, it's hard to say if the district's potential survived as well. Trinity courtyards and narrow alleys that once looked like those in Washington Square and Society Hill now stare blankly at surface lots or towering windowless walls. 

In a city addicted to its history, this may be one case where reality is all that remains.

But having lived in the neighborhood bound by Chinatown, Broad Street, the Vine Street Expressway, and the Convention Center for more than five years I've come to understand that reality is what my neighbors want. We will never be the extension of Old City we could have been before the I-676 and the Convention Center eradicated our lofty potential. We're ruins of what could have been stuck between being a towering extension of Philadelphia's true downtown and a fight to preserve a sinking vessel preservationists don't understand. 

Just two blocks from City Hall, we're neither quaint nor relevant. The Chinatown Drift of the Expressway keeps us up at night because there is no architecture to buffer the noise. Surface lots create endless garbage that finds its way into our community gardens. A lack of late night business and our minimal population means absent security and an abundance of prostitution and open air drug use. 

It's easy to look at quaint alleys like Winter Court and see potential in the provincial charm. But what I see are used heroin needles in my flowerbeds. 

Baywood Hotels' proposed tower near 13th and Vine has been contested by local historians, most notably the Friends of the Boyd because of the building's historic status as the first home of NFL Films. While many, including Saffron, have accused it of being a "not-so-subtle" interpretation of the PSFS Building, the most recently released rendering looks more like 1706 Rittenhouse plated in materials that echo the original Streamlined Moderne office building.

Deja Vu

Truth be told, neighbors are also concerned about the project. Another hotel means more parking. In any other neighborhood I'd say the claim is absurd, but in this neighborhood we understand just how expendable our buildings are, and just how much the asphalt prairie can expand. 

The fact that Baywood Hotels is interested in preserving the facade of the existing office building is astounding in a neighborhood where row homes disappear overnight without so much as a whisper. While the hotel may bring more surface lots in the near future, it will also increase the value of those lots and attract the attention of future developers. 

Improved work rules at the Pennsylvania Convention Center are already evident in the droves of conventioneers mingling around 12th and Arch and future development is exactly what we asked for when the center first expanded. This neighborhood was always expected to be its collateral damage. 

Still, Philadelphia has managed to do a great job of juxtaposing sky scraping towers with Colonial charm. There's plenty of room to grow, to fill in the gaps, for towers to sidle up to courtyards. Baywood Hotel, dull as it may be, is a catalyst this neighborhood needs to truly be the part of Center City that it is.

"Over-Success" or Something Better?

Can a city suffer from "over-success?" Ask a capitalist and you'll get a staunch "NO." Ask a native New Yorker or Washingtonian who watched their city transform over night and you might get a more insightful answer.

Inga Saffron posed the interesting question on Changing Skyline. Philadelphia natives would likely laugh, as would anyone just a few years ago. But things are changing fast and that change is about to accelerate. 

Relaxed rules at the Pennsylvania Convention Center brought 2500 fraternity brothers - and nine million dollars - to 12th and Arch this week. National retailers once leery of competing with local boutiques in a city rigidly attached to homegrown businesses are quickly filling up Walnut Street.

While local retailers have largely managed to relocate to Chestnut Street, and Market East and East Chestnut remain affordable sources for future growth, the dull ills that come with being a bull's eye for big business are showing themselves in the places Saffron mentions: banks.

Long gone are the days when banks were independent feats of architectural marvel. Today the panache of grand columns and chandeliers means nothing to the institutions. Like a roadside Hampton Inn or Taco Bell, banks are creatures of branded design. And where retail thrives, banks are in the business of making themselves available and visible. 

Fortunately for Philadelphia the footprint of your average Wells Fargo can be diluted by its surroundings. What's worse, and what Saffron forgot to mention, are the never-ending chains of drug stores. Can we even call them that anymore? They're essentially high priced grocery stores that happen to have pharmacies somewhere beyond the stacks of fatty junk food.

And they take up a lot of space.

About a year ago Walgreens occupied the vacant Borders at Broad and Chestnut opening up one of the grandest pharmacies anyone's ever seen. Not only is it three floors, it's three floors of some of the most bad ass architecture in Philadelphia on a prime corner. It's hard to argue. It's better used than vacant. But with hindsight being what it is, the recent retail boom asks if this could have been a better location for the Cheesecake Factory coming to 15th and Walnut. 

Luckily the former Daffy's at 17th and Chestnut will find new life as it was meant, soon to become a Nordstrom Rack. However, while Chestnut was a brief reprieve for the independent boutiques priced off Walnut Street, the new American Eagle Outfitters and upcoming Nordstrom Rack may be a signal that Chestnut is about to change. The proposed W Hotel at 15th and Chestnut will likely up the ante.

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For the time being, independent retailers have plenty of room to play. East Chestnut is about to see some new residents and Midtown Village has proved itself a successful experiment in cultivating local entertainment and shopping. The businesses that once made Walnut what it is are in a position to do the same east of Broad. As Walnut swaps local flair for Center City's answer to King of Prussia, the shopping streets east of Broad are ready to trade City Blue and Easy Pickins for that local flair.

It's hard to determine how the city's retail environment will evolve. Market East improvements will bring their own chains to the Gallery at Market East and the upcoming Market East's mixed use complex, likely impacting the shopping culture on Chestnut and Walnut. But there's still room before Philadelphia succumbs to "over-success." Center City sits on a very small, walkable acreage, but unlike New York or Washington, D.C., it has room to grow.

North Broad is a hotbed of underutilized storefronts. As more residents find themselves in Callowhill, local businesses will surely follow. Even Old City, although perceived to be pricy and successful, is chock full of vacant buildings and subpar retail. There are plenty of neighborhoods well within the limits of Center City, more between Spring Garden and Washington Avenue, ripe for the kind of retail innovation that separates Philadelphia from New York and other cities.

Rittenhouse and University City are what they are for very specific reasons. Rittenhouse, namely Walnut Street, has become the city's premier shopping district for visitors while University City caters to college students who seek out the creature comforts of home.

But Northern Liberties and Passyunk Square have created enclaves of local charm, almost exclusively fed by homegrown businesses far from the radar of national chains. As the city continues to grow local businesses can fill in the gaps, cultivating Callowhill, Broad Street both North and South, Hawthorne, and Grays Ferry.

In a city so large it's shortsighted to assume shopping destinations can't exist beyond Walnut Street and University City.

We have a unique situation in Philadelphia, perhaps the only example of a post industrial city that has truly recovered from the throws of irrelevance. As local businesses feed off the growth of national chains - and they will - they'll do what they did for Walnut Street elsewhere, terraforming the city north to Girard and south to Washington, fostering a city in which independent businesses and national chains thrive side by side. 

How? 

Because Philadelphia is more than just a Renaissance Town of local boutiques and tiny art galleries. Leave that to Birmingham and Richmond. We're a capital of innovation and creativity, a city capable of turning our local boutiques into the national chains so many revile. In a capitalistic sense we're where Manhattan was ten years ago, begging for more of the same, but our vast portfolio of underutilized real estate affords us the ability to be something much greater. Bringing on more national retail will only enable us to expand our vast wealth of independent ideology well beyond the confines of Center City.

Congratulations to Inga Saffron

Philadelphia's well known architecture critic, Inga Saffron, has been advocating for the city's built environment for almost fifteen years. The three time Pulitzer Prize nominee finally received the recognition she's been waiting for when it was announced that she'd received the Prize.

Saffron's critiques have been incidentally divisive, an element of good journalism. Good journalism doesn't placate and doesn't hate, it doesn't promote the politics or the sponsors of the publication, it honestly delivers the news. Critics speak from a more complicated podium. How do you criticize or praise anything objectively without citing schooled jargon from experts? After all, those trained chefs, architects, and artists that define the good and bad are critics in their own right.

Critical journalism is opinion without editorializing. Somewhere, someone will defend their McMansion and somewhere an educated architect will explain why a Brutalist monstrosity is "good design." You can't argue with facts, but you can argue with a critique.

But Saffron is more than a contrarian. You can find those writing a dozen blogs about Philadelphia architecture, including Your Truly. But Saffron is employed by the Inquirer and a Pulitzer Prize recipient because she doesn't deliver unpopular opinions to get clicks and comments. Her eye for the brick and concrete around us is consistent, even when it's unpopular.

Despite her consistent - and deserved - criticism of the Mural Arts Program, traditional design, and popular developers, she speaks to her audience as a colleague, not a teacher. Critics often school their readers from a soapbox as an elitist. Saffron may come off elitist to her audience, but only when those readers disagree. Pulitzer Prize or not, Saffron cannot definitively be an elitist because her exposure to architecture is as organic as it is to anyone reading the paper. She's not an architect. She's speaking to her audience from the seats of the theater, not the stage.

I received an email from her after my very first post on Philly Bricks, and while she didn't completely agree with me, she's as open to dialogue as anyone. She doesn't blindly defend her positions with books and citations, suturing the conversation with "you're wrong, and here's why." She has her positions and knows why, but clearly understands why others may sometimes disagree.

The media is full of obnoxious chefs who defend themselves by criticizing others and art critics who offer little more than rehashed critiques. Saffron's balance between knowledge and honesty is refreshing. She's a Philadelphian like the rest of us, one with an award winning portfolio of journalism.

Congrats!

Art Commission Blasts Revolution Museum

Philadelphia's unusually quebecois weather seems to be taking a toll on our critics and Robert A. M. Stern's firm has become their punching bag. Shortly before the Inquirer's architecture critic Inga Saffron eviscerated the LDS's 1601 Vine Street apartment building, and their Mormon Temple and community center, the Philadelphia Art Commission sent Stern back to the drafting table with his Museum of the American Revolution.

While Stern claims the museum was intended to be a flattened Independence Hall, it seems to echo the neighboring customs house with its hackneyed cupola. That cupola, easily eliminated, seems to be the source of the building's greatest gripes. But because it's been unseasonably freezing since December, those who hold the museum's balls in their hands aren't content with handsome classicism in a handsomely classical part of town.

While the building does provide a blank wall on Chestnut Street, it replaces a brick fortress entered midblock with an entrance facing the corner of Third and Chestnut. Devoid of its cupola it's a fine building befitting its neighbors and its collection. It won't architecturally rival the new Barnes Museum but it's not an art museum. When classicism is employed on the National Mall it's applauded, so why is a museum dedicated to history criticized for echoing history in Center City's most historic part of town?

Philadelphia has found itself in an interesting place. We haven't developed much in the last five years so we've demanded the best of developers who've managed to secure the funds to work.

That's good.

Now that we're faced with a building boom rivaling the early 2000s, critics are treating the bevy of development like a kid on Christmas morning: it has to be perfect. Stern's design for the Revolution Museum isn't amongst the best in the city, but neither is the museum's content. Its architecture befits its collection. We shouldn't expect less, but with skyscrapers blooming along the nether regions of the city, Philadelphia has joined the ranks of Chicago and New York, where not every new project is vying for an award.

Can Classic Design Ever be "Good" Design?

Inga Saffron, Philadephia's architecture czar and one of my favorite journalists, has some choice words for the Mormon's developing Vine Street, and she's not holding back. 

Starting with "It's hard not to wince when you first look at the renderings," I can't help but wonder if she's just having a bad day. This is the critic who can't get enough of Bohlin Cywinski Jackson's Cheesecake Cube at 15th and Walnut. If you wince at any building that is more stimulating - for better or worse - than a glass box, should you be critiquing architecture?

I don't know anyone who winced.

The projects along Vine Street being developed by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints include the Mormon Temple currently under construction, a small community center, and a highrise apartment building. Saffron referred to the collection as "one of the weirder ensembles produced in 21st-century America outside of Las Vegas."

That just seems uncharacteristically harsh. 

She claimed the meeting house looked like it was "dragged across town" from Society Hill, despite the similarly scaled Quaker Meeting House just three blocks away. She went on to call the church itself is "a snow-white, double-spired, French classical Mormon temple." 

Okay, now I don't think she's having a bad day. I think shes drunk.

Gracefully respecting its surroundings, Philadelphia's Mormon Temple reflects the classical architecture of its neighbors. Should every new building be innovative, groundbreaking, or an "exciting" glass curtain, even our most sacred places?

The apartment tower and community center are designed by Robert A. M. Stern. I appreciate her frustration with Stern's safe designs, but he designs handsome buildings. Saffron cites his Museum of the American Revolution a an example of his flaccid designs. The museum is no exception and it's not an exceptional building, but despite its odd cupola it's a fine building befitting its neighborhood and its collection. 

Saffron almost seems relieved that the Art Commission has criticized the design, yet she has said little of the museum since her first critique in 2012. It's almost as if the commission's decision was her cue to say, "look, I'm not crazy."

Saffron did take time to speak to Tom King who manages real estate investment for the LDS Church, appreciating the urban design of the space and the church's investment in an undesirable part of near-Center City. Parking will be underground and no walls will be blank, even those facing Vine Street and the expressway's cloverleaf.

But when it comes to the design, Saffron has no patience for what she says "belongs in the past." While developers with the LDS Church will likely move forward with the proposed design, it exists solely in two dimensional renderings, yet Philadelphia's top architecture critic has already relegated it to the bowels of the city's worst, with Dranoff's "Nightmare on Broad Street."

The LDS Church's apartment building doesn't just offer all residents unique views of the city, it's widest wall faces Vine Street's unsightly cloverleaf, blocking it from those who'd rather forget it's there. Unlike Cira Centre that flanks its western banks with modern design that defines University City's identity as unique, Stern's tower reaches across Vine Street and shakes hands with Center City's history, integrating Vine Street with the rest of the city as if it had always been there.

Its apartment tower offers more than nostalgia. Instead of facing Center City flatly, giving half of its residents a skyscraping view and the others a view of North Philadelphia, its narrow edge faces the city, offering all residents a compromising, angled view of the skyline with half facing the Parkway and the others facing the Ben Franklin Bridge. 

Beyond all the artistic rhetoric and intellectualism that only the schooled understand, it's not a dull building. It's not groundbreaking, but it doesn't need to be. It's crowned with upper floors gracefully tiered like The Drake or Rockefeller Center. Assuming developers don't skimp on materials it will be appreciated by those passing by and the general public, those that really matter.

As for the Mormon Temple and community center, they may appear to echo fanciful fairy tales or princess palaces, but they're not bland historic interpretations that attempt to fade into the shadows. Like the Basillica of Saints Peter and Paul across the street, the temple is bold. What makes the Mormon Temple look like a scene from Wizard of Oz is our local unfamiliarity with Mormon architecture. To an equally unfamiliar eye, Catholic architecture is just as bizarre. 

Developers with the LDS may not be attempting to elevate architectural design or art theory, but unlike Mac cubes and glass curtains that art critics continue to applaud for their absent presence, these projects along Vine Street offer something pleasant, classic, and lasting.

teensy redbrick meetinghouse that looks as if it was dragged across town
Read more at http://www.philly.com/philly/home/20140221_Changing_Skyline__Mormon_development_combines_civic-mindedness__architectural_hodgepodge.html#jfWC6T7wBxtT7HUA.99

teensy redbrick meetinghouse that looks as if it was dragged across town
Read more at http://www.philly.com/philly/home/20140221_Changing_Skyline__Mormon_development_combines_civic-mindedness__architectural_hodgepodge.html#jfWC6T7wBxtT7HUA.99

It's hard not to wince when you first look at the renderings
Read more at http://www.philly.com/philly/home/20140221_Changing_Skyline__Mormon_development_combines_civic-mindedness__architectural_hodgepodge.html#5TRhdxvGuFUrMWub.99

It's hard not to wince when you first look at the renderings
Read more at http://www.philly.com/philly/home/20140221_Changing_Skyline__Mormon_development_combines_civic-mindedness__architectural_hodgepodge.html#sAzDRxAmoduWOqKY.99

It's hard not to wince when you first look at the renderings
Read more at http://www.philly.com/philly/home/20140221_Changing_Skyline__Mormon_development_combines_civic-mindedness__architectural_hodgepodge.html#sAzDRxAmoduWOqKY.99

It's hard not to wince when you first look at the renderings
Read more at http://www.philly.com/philly/home/20140221_Changing_Skyline__Mormon_development_combines_civic-mindedness__architectural_hodgepodge.html#sAzDRxAmoduWOqKY.99

It's hard not to wince when you first look at the renderings
Read more at http://www.philly.com/philly/home/20140221_Changing_Skyline__Mormon_development_combines_civic-mindedness__architectural_hodgepodge.html#sAzDRxAmoduWOqKY.99

Dinosaur Droppings

Inga Saffron shared a post on her Facebook page today that sums up the disgusting state of mainstream journalism today. At least with tabloids, we know we're getting crap. That's why we read them. But when someone picks up a copy of the Inquirer, goes to Philly.com, or even grabs a Philadelphia Magazine, you expect at least an elementary level of journalistic ethics.

Journals routinely conduct surveys, ones that tell us where to eat, where to get drunk, and where to get laid. They tell us which cities are the ugliest, the healthiest, and the poorest. Unless it states "This is a Paid Advertisement" at the bottom of the page we assume, however bias, it's based on something.

Apparently USA Today solicited Philadelphia's Fleisher School to participate in its upcoming "Best of Philly" spread. The kicker? USA Today wanted money.

I guess it shouldn't come as a surprise. Sure, it's certainly unscrupulous for a newspaper to solicit a bribe, but after asking where journalistic integrity had gone, I asked myself, "is USA Today still around?"

Let's face it. Gannett's USA Today newspaper boxes are a few shorts years away from being excavated alongside dinosaur droppings and phone books. I guess I'm more shocked that they'd be so open about this unethical journalism than the fact that it actually takes place.

Philadelphia Legends

This is the Saffroness that I love to read! In a recent Changing Skyline column, Inga Saffron challenged convention and colleagues without an ounce of self deprecating Negadelphianess, and proved just how much she loves this city given she could easily snag a job droning on and on about how great "better" cities are that everyone already knows are great.

While his products were products of their time, Bacon was inarguably a visionary. Even Penn Plaza and its underground concourse, as sterile as they are, were novel in their prime. He experimented, but just as importantly he built.

I'd take her comments further and say that there is no question that we're better off having had him, in spite of The Gallery and I-95.

Had he developed our city beyond the 70s we might actually have a Penn's Landing worth walking to. It's no coincidence that his retirement coincided with the beginning of four decades of design studies and architectural competitions that, to this day, have gone nowhere.

Without him Society Hill would be a blighted extension of South Philadelphia, a midcentury perception responsible for his interpretation of an expendable South Street. Because of him we have Queen Village and Hawthorn sidling up to some of the city's most expensive real estate that he created.

Philadelphians have a nagging reputation for bragging about our faults, a reputation that a century later, keeps Frank Furness and Willis Hale only locally appreciated. Bacon and Saffron are no exceptions to the rule, and the fact that they maintained or maintain a local loyalty only make them more exceptional at their jobs.

Post Brother's "Clap-Trap"

Post Brother's Goldtex Apartment building has been coming along remarkably despite months of daily protests wielding the union's notable carnival toy: a twelve foot inflatable rat, which in a slack jawed sense of 1950's "tough guy" symbolism, is now orange. I'm just guessing. I can't bring myself to research why it's orange, maybe it's just faded.

Assuming the building would near completion without anymore shady moves by the region's trade unions is kind of like hoping a giant turd disappears from a broken toilet in the middle of the night.

Well, they're back. Inga Saffron has the scoop.

According to Inga, Frank Keel, head of public relations for the Building Trades Council, stated that “concerned citizens (had) seen the incomplete state of the building, reached out to L&I." 

As a neighbor I have yet to meet one of these "concerned citizens," likely because most of those stalking the Goldtex site do so from a yellow tagged SUV and hightail it over the river before any of us are home.

Business Manager for Building Trades, Pat Gillespie, always unafraid of airing midcentury machismo called Goldtex a "clap-trap" which is "nowhere near ready for occupancy." Lucille Bluth, the matriarch of Arrested Development's fictional Bluth family, is the last person I've ever heard utter the phrase "clap-trap."

It's easy to look at Goldtex Apartments and assume it's not nearing completion, and Keel and Gillespie are playing right into this misconception. What neither understand is that no one cares. All seasoned Philadelphians see at 12th and Wood is an astoundingly iconic apartment building going up in record time. Consider our point of reference. We're used to corporations that spend three decades on environmental impact studies and design contests to build a park.

Public opinion for trade unions was already beginning to falter and these protests have managed to turn the tide. L&I will throw the unions a few more favors, but when Goldtex Apartments opens, Post Brothers will have proven to the business community that you can build in Philadelphia without union muscle.

At this point it's nothing but a game of face saving pride. Post Brothers have proven time and again that they're willing to dance. Unions are used to targeting Philadelphia developers, developers that routinely rely on kickbacks from the city or tax breaks. Their biggest misstep was targeting a developer willing to use their own cash. The desperate last ditch efforts to derail a project that will certainly open only proves the game is over.