The Abandoned Pennsylvania Turnpike

Pennsylvania is full of creepy, forgotten places. Relics of bygone eras in technology, hospitals replaced by better care, and architecture that has outlived its usefulness. 

Home to a world of wild abandonment. 

In Philadelphia alone, the Divine Lorraine, Eastern State Penitentiary, and numerous vacant piers and power stations, we are enamored not just with our past, but what happens to our past when Mother Nature reclaims her own. 

Beyond the city to Lynnewood Hall and Pennhurst Asylum, we are a region lost between history and modernity, between the foreboding fortresses of 12th Century Europe and the tech campuses of the West Coast.

We preserve what we can. But across the state, more prized than tours of Society Hill by many, is the sullen macabre of the insignificant towns and highways lost to time and progress. Centralia, PA, once a coal town that housed 1000 residents has dwindled to 10 because of a coal fire that began in 1962. 

Aside from a few houses inhabited by those who refuse to leave, the town is now little more than faded street signs, avenues once lined with modest row houses, and sidewalk staircases leading to wild meadows.

Not far, Concrete City in Nanticoke, PA was an experimental community built for employees of a railroad's coal division in 1911. Because of mold problems caused by its exclusively concrete construction, the Glen Alden Coal Company abandoned the property in 1924, finding it too costly to demolish more than one of the city's homes. The rest remain to this day.

These are the things that fascinate me. The inspiration for scary movies and the monsters I still find under my bed.

This weekend I went to Breezewood, PA, which is little more than a truck stop for the intersection of I-70 and I-76. But past souvenir shops and a few fast food restaurants, just beyond a quaint church and over a hill is the entrance to one of Pennsylvania's most coveted sites for those who wish to explore the bizarre.

In 1968, 13 miles of the Pennsylvania Turnpike were expanded and relocated, replacing the Sidling Hill Tunnel and Rays Hill Tunnel with a portion of what is now I-76 to accommodate more traffic. But the highways, and the tunnels, remain.

Today the abandoned turnpike exists as a "ride at your own risk" bike trail, maintained by the Friends of the Bike 2 Pike which have been working with Bedford County to turn it into an official bike trail. 

But if you're adventurous, see it now, and bring a head lamp. From the entrance to the first tunnel, you can see the end, but it's dark, damp, and the tunnel's echo is spine tingling. On a nice day you may find other bikers, their lamps riding towards you, followed by a polite "hello" from a face you can't see.

The second tunnel, however, truly is terrifying. From its entrance, you can't see the other side, only a faint light from it. When you reach the middle there is an absolute nothingness, both literal and figurative. You'll hear the sound of water echoing around you, inadvertently manmade falls leaking into the cave. 

Wear headgear and do not stop pedaling. 

If you make it back with your nerves in tact, Gravity Hill is just twenty miles west. A purported anomaly where cars allegedly roll uphill. Likely just an optical illusion, after an afternoon through two abandoned tunnels, an evening in the Pennsylvania Wilds may be scary enough on its own. Until you put your car in neutral and begin to climb a mountain.

Pier 53's Land Buoy

Camden's Proposed Skyview Tower

If Camden's Skyview Tower comes to fruition, it could be getting a fraternal twin on the west bank of the Delaware River. 

Pier 53 at Columbus Boulevard and Washington Avenue is being cleared for its conversion to a park by the Delaware River Waterfront Corporation. Progress will be on display in two weeks during a Sneak Peak.

The most exciting element in the proposal calls for artist Jody Pinto's Land Buoy, an illuminated tower at the end of the pier.

Pier 53's Land Buoy

A New L&I?

What does an organization do when it's trying to shred a soiled reputation? Just ask Comcast what "Xfinity" means. Americans have short attention spans, and since many of us rarely look up from a trending Tweet long enough to notice it's raining frogs, newly branding a product can be a simple way of bypassing any true improvements.

But it's not always just a show. New branding can work when it means a better service or product. Xfinity wasn't just an attempt to find new customers who didn't know it was synonymous with Comcast, it was part of a larger effort to improve customer service and the services themselves, services that truly have improved.

The city's department of Licenses & Inspections was taken to task by Philly.com writer, Brian X. McCrone for shelling out $50,000 to the advertising and public relations firm, LevLane. The main source of contention is in the department's most visible upgrade, simply changing "L&I" to "L + I." It sounds absurd, but rebranding the department is just the most visible component in a much larger marketing strategy to make the department more visible and accessible. 

It's not the first time a city organization has contracted a PR firm to improve its reputation. In fact, it happens all the time and more public departments would be smart to get in line. Government agencies have a reputation for being out of touch with their audience because they simply are. 

PR firms make money by helping other companies make even more. They understand the public in ways that CEOs and government employees don't. It might be hard to believe, but most Philadelphians probably don't know what L + I is. And if they do, they don't know how it's integrated with the city's 311 system or how to formally file complaints with the department. They may not even know they have a voice.

L + I's new brand is a fine start, but what remains to be seen is if the changes within the department will go beyond its new logo. If LevLane's work works, it translates into phone calls and emails, complaints. But if the department's improvements don't go beyond aesthetics, the increased visibility could only tarnish the department's already tarnished reputation.

Barely Human: psychylustro's Katharina Grosse

In case you don't know what that new graffiti is across from Boathouse Row, it's part of Katherina Grosse's joint venture between Amtrak and the Mural Arts Program. psychylustro, according to the German artist, is part of a need for day glo neon paint in order to "get close to people."

I know I won't make any friends in the Outsider Art community by saying this, but that's art speak for "I'm not talented enough to paint a good horse."

The installations involve spraying thousands of gallons of paint along Philadelphia's Amtrak and SEPTA lines in an effort to offer passengers a view of what amounts to the aftermath of a paintball battle or an Electric Run. It essentially covers our blighted corridors in bright colors to mask the squalor, much like the Favela Paintings in the slums of Rio de Janeiro. 

It looks kinda cool, like something from The Cell. But just think what this will look like in twelve months.

psychylustro is everything true talent hates: it's entitled, arrogant, and worst of all, its explanation is more creative than what anyone is actually looking at. But being an overrated artist is nothing new. Look at Zoe Strauss or Andy Warhol. 

What's truly disgusting about Grosse's work is that, in six months, it will no longer be maintained. Leaving our rail corridors lined with endless chemicals melting into the already polluted ground and views of fading pinks and oranges covering the trees and grass. All at a cost of nearly $300,000.

Way to think it through, Mural Arts and Amtrak. And thank you, Katherina Grosse, for using Philadelphia as your Third World canvas before retreating back to Europe. 

The New Family Court Building

The new Family Court building at 15th and Arch is nearly complete. With its glass in place it's time to
announce, this building is as bad as it could be.

Okay, maybe not that bad. It could be surrounded by a parking lot. But remember when government's built the best stuff? 

There is a vast difference between an ugly building and one that doesn't make sense, and the new FCB is the latter. Philadelphia is home to hundreds of ugly buildings: Robinson's Department Store, the Roundhouse, even the PSFS Building and City Hall in a certain light could be considered "ugly." But they're examples of well executed architecture and designs that made a statement and have found their way back to a positive light.

The FCB will never be so ugly it's great. Its greenish blue panels echo the color of bins found in government warehouses and postal bathrooms. It's a color that no one has ever used outside of a government facility.  And for some reason, government facilities still use it, apparently even as a design element.

It's thin metallic lines separating the windows would have been a good choice for a relatively short building amongst skyscrapers. They could carry the eye upward creating the illusion that it's much taller than it is. But they're broken up by thick horizontal lines every at every other floor, interrupting the building's upward flow.

And then there's the entrance, which looks like a suburban office building tucked into the corner of its only slightly more interesting entirety. The whole thing looks like an 80s era fax machine. I assume that's why it's got a handle on the top of it.

The Bright Side of the Pennsylvania Convention Center

After two unions failed to meet a deadlined agreement with the Pennsylvania Convention Center, the massive exhibition space covering three full city blocks may finally have the opportunity to reinvent itself. Given the damage already done by more than two decades of costly union headaches, it will take time for the facility to recover from the reputation it's developed. 

But beneath that sullied reputation, complaints that would make Comcast blush, and the politics that plague its administration, stands a building that's hard to ignore but easy to forget. One that, perhaps aside from much of its architecture, really is great. Sure, scissor lifts and cranes loom over Race Street, lined with parking garages and windowless brick. Chinatown's 11th Street greets pedestrians with vacant store fronts too costly and shallow to find tenants. Even Arch Street, although the center's most used facade, is lined with three blocks of dated monotony. 

However, some buildings can be above architecture, but only if they manage to serve their intended purpose and serve it well. And the Pennsylvania Convention Center could be one of those places.

I was talking with a friend of mine who attended a volleyball convention in Philadelphia a few years ago. Not the biggest of conventions by any means, this year it was held in Washington, D.C. The reasons for moving it to D.C. are obvious and gripes about the Pennsylvania Convention Center have been discussed ad nauseam here, in the media, and message boards.

What was much more surprising was the praise that the Pennsylvania Convention Center received despite its cost. After a few minutes of sharing the usual complaints about its unions, our conversation segued to the uniqueness of the facility, namely its location. It truly is as good as it gets.

D.C.'s Walter E. Washington Convention Center is located across from Mount Vernon Square near the newly gentrified Shaw neighborhood. It's surrounded by the suburban creature comforts we may soon find on Market East, within walking distance of hotels and the National Mall, but it's not near the heart of Washington D.C. which largely lies in its unique series of independent neighborhoods. What's worse, Dulles International Airport is not supported by Metro Rail requiring an expensive and often lengthy cab ride. 

This isn't unique to Washington, D.C. The Los Angeles Convention Center is located downtown, a moniker attributed solely to the city's skyline. Even closer to home, Pittsburgh's  David L. Lawrence Convention Center may run circles around Philadelphia's center both architecturally and environmentally, but it's removed from the city's heart, located on the Allegheny River downtown where life ceases at five on Friday.

The Pennsylvania Convention Center's uniqueness is largely due to the uniqueness of Center City itself. I've often said that the center should have been placed in the demolished Convention Hall and Civic Center west of the Schuylkill River, removed from the heart of Philadelphia "where conventioneers belong."

But its presence at Broad and Arch may be exactly where such a venue belongs. SEPTA carries conventioneers directly to its door from Philadelphia International Airport and 30th Street Station. The Philadelphia Marriott is connected to the center. It's two blocks from City Hall, Midtown Village, and Chinatown, and a short stroll to the Liberty Bell and Independence Mall. 

Soon, East Market and a revitalized Gallery at Market East will offer conventioneers those creature comforts they're accustomed to in their bedroom communities. And unlike those convention spaces isolated on corporate islands, in cities that compartmentalize everything from activities to lifestyles, Philadelphia's Center City offers guests the same activities, lifestyles, shopping, and entertainment conveniently situated in the short space between Vine Street and South Street. 

We don't call Center City the "city center" for a reason. It's not a neighborhood. It truly is a Center City, a city within a city at the Pennsylvania Convention Center's doorsteps. If the center's administrators can maximize their freedom from the confines of the Carpenters and Teamsters and recognize the space's unique location, the Pennsylvania Convention Center may finally be what many had dreamed it would be.

More Convention Center Surface Parking?

It's not clear what's happening here, but given the fact that the building is mid-block on a small street, it will likely become more surface parking. This is a block of Juniper Street between Race and Vine and the second building on this block to be recently demolished. 

It seems the powers behind one of Philadelphia's most nefarious purveyors of unsightly surface parking will not be content until their footprint is as big as the Pennsylvania Convention Center itself.

A word of advice thanks to the piss poor planners in my small hometown. When one property hoarder demolishes entire blocks or even neighborhoods for surface parking, a funny thing happens. Businesses flee and suddenly no one's left looking for parking.