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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 you've wandered up North Broad Street recently you may have noticed a series of metal poles dotting the median, or what used to be a median. This is part of an Avenue of the Arts project dating back to 2007, and as Inga Saffron recently pointed out, the lights are the only part of a dormant master planned that survived.
But I don't think the city duped the Avenue of the Arts into blowing $14M on pork. The Avenue of the Arts as an organization - I'd like to think - is a smart one that uses its funds wisely and efficiently. In fact, if we were duped by anyone, it might be the designers Bohlin Cywinski Jackson and James Carpenter Design.
About a year ago the public was shown flashy renderings of these magnificent torches, but we were shown them as the birds fly or through a telephoto perspective the human eye will never see. As they stand in reality, they are too sparse and widely planted to make any sense on an inner city street, at least not on the blocks north of Callowhill where they stand.
It seems the concept was similar in theory to the Ray King's iridescent Philadelphia Beacons at Broad and Washington: mark the Avenue of the Arts, and the arts will come. Despite whether you find King's Beacons an artistic triumph or not, they were a civic failure.
The four torches never attracted the arts the Avenue had hoped for, and neither will BCJ and Carpenter's 41. Whether or not they're artistically bad is up for interpretation, from the critics and from those on the street. To date, neither installation has been applauded by anyone but the city, at least no praise that I can find.
But what if either installation was a tad closer to City Hall, a bit more within the zone we regularly consider the proper Avenue of the Arts? If Ray King's Philadelphia Beacons were at Broad and South they'd pair well with South Street's funky image and similar shimmery installations on South Star Lofts and Suzanne Roberts Theater.
Similarly, the 55 foot towers along North Broad Street look nonsensical juxtaposed against its low rise backdrop, and where their height makes sense - perhaps next to the Divine Lorraine - they're paired with an urban grit that makes them look like pieces of an incomplete construction project.
Had they run from Arch Street to Spring Garden where the built environment routinely exceeds the height of the masts, they'd complement the glitzy Pennsylvania Convention Center and the illuminated Academy of the Fine Arts.
And that's exactly what these masts, like King's Beacons, should be: a compliment, not definition. Because where they stand now defines nothing. In fact, where both installations now stand they detract from the built environment that exists, they shift your focus to these alien landing pads and away from what should be the focus: the street.
In time, perhaps they will make sense. But the "build it and it will come" approach has failed too many times to excuse the current location of either installation, not when either could have been installed where they belong, and certainly not when the money could have been better spent on making North Broad Street the kind of place someone looking for the Avenue of the Arts would dare venture after dark.
Philadelphia may be on the fast track to becoming the nation's third tallest city, Market East is on the brink of an unthinkable renaissance, but there's one thing that seems to capture the attention of natives and transplants more than tall buildings, City Council elections, and potholes: and that's a made-to-order hoagie.
More specifically, a hoagie from Wawa.
Wawa announced it will be opening a new location at Broad and Walnut, a key corner on the Avenue of the Arts formerly occupied by Robinson's Luggage, and today our corner of the internet went wild.
The location seemed primed for an upscale restaurant, but the reality in most pedestrian oriented cities calls for high volume on heavily trafficked corners, not high end. And the Avenue of the Arts probably does deserve an all night convenience store, so why not make it a local one?
Southstar Lofts at Broad and South is nearing completion and it looks okay. In fact, okay is exactly how it looks.
It's not a head turner, but it may be a turning point in one of Philadelphia's most passionate developer's portfolio. Despite harsh criticism for Carl Dranoff's ambitious Symphony House and 777 South Broad, he probably won't hear a lot about Southstar. For one thing, it's too simple and bland to really warrant critique, but he also transformed a troublesome corner, a community "garden" on a prime corner that many in the community didn't want.
It's unfortunate that Southstar didn't bring the same edgy design as its neighbor, 1352 Lofts, but once it opens with panoramic views of the Avenue of the Arts, Dranoff is set to bring his A-game with the SLS Hotel on the site of Philadelphia International Records.
Southstar Lofts helps fill South Broad's patchwork of vacant lots and suburban chains, carrying passengers towards 777 South Broad. If Bart Blatstein finally transforms the massive lot at Broad and Washington, we may finally see a cohesive stretch of urbanism connecting Center City and South Philadelphia.
Bart Blatstein's revitalized State Office Building has been rebranded as Tower Place apartments. With amenities like complimentary maid service, this North Broad location will rival many of Center City's luxury apartments. No recent renderings of the apartment building have been released so it's unclear how the ground floor plaza will be treated.
Adding foot traffic to North Broad will undoubtedly assist in the successful revitalization of Blatstein's neighboring property, The Inquirer Building.
I've never been crazy about the Jamaican Jerk Hut. I have nothing against it, but it's just not my
scene. The popular outdoor space reeks of hipsters and they don't sell Pepsi. But again, nothing personal, it's just not me.
However, as a local icon, cultural institution, and a small business representing the eclectic diversity all cities are designed to embrace, it's an important attraction in Center City's Avenue of the Arts.
Unfortunately residents at the Symphony House, Center City One, and Academy House don't see it that way. While bragging that these properties offer a lifestyle amidst a fast paced pantheon of urbanity, apparently our city's diversity should be limited to what these elite residents are comfortable with. At least that's what Gary A. Krimstock, a lawyer representing the residents of the three properties, would have you believe.
For two years Lisa Wilson, owner of the South Street landmark, has been struggling to battle Krimstock in and out of court. Krimstock notes, "not everyone enjoys the music...it's disturbing the other residents in the area."
By "other residents" Krimstock clearly means rich, urban newbies. A number of affluent venues along the Avenue of the Arts call loud crowds to their doors and their dance floors. Affluent venues that are even closer to the doors of his clients and nobody seems to mind.
The Jerk Hut's outdoor space, featured in the hit comedy In Her Shoes and owned by the internationally renowned architects Robert Venturi and Denise Scott Brown, silences its music at 9:30PM, much earlier than many nightlife venues who often close their patios at midnight, or in some areas as late as 2AM.
Krimstock's legal maneuvering and surplus of cash is clearly aimed at running Wilson's venue out of business. While Venturi, Scott Brown has partnered with Wilson in transforming her outdoor space into a unique oasis in the middle of the city, it would be nice to see the firm - which prides itself on unique urban solutions - step forward and aid Wilson in her legal battle.
Perhaps they can remind the out of touch residents in these Center City high rises that they live in a city, and that the bland suburban luxuries they seem to feel entitled to are readily available elsewhere.
The city is for the living. In fact, despite the hipsters, I think I'll be checking out The Jerk Hut very soon. You should too.
Contributed by Mike Gaines
How to bring vibrancy to South Broad Street below Washington Avenue
In my six years of being a resident of Philadelphia I have noticed a lot of peculiarities that have come to define, for me at least, the unique life that is Philadelphia. If you think about this country’s big cities, each one has its own style – New York is the rich, pompous brother; Portland is the hippie/grungy/hipster sister; Chicago is…Chicago; Miami is the gay, Hispanic half-brother; and Philadelphia, well Philadelphia is just the weird, black sheep of the family no one really likes to talk about.
GO PHILLY!
One of my favorite habits is to walk around the city taking note of the architecture and historical elements of the city, but not the History Channel elements, the ones forgotten about and tucked away behind awnings, placards, and faux-facades. Some of these elements, however, are staring down at us every day, but since people are so immersed in their phones and latest iProduct, no one actually looks up to take notice.
This is seemingly evident on South Broad Street, below Washington Avenue, with its long-dormant neon signs. When one thinks of neon, the first thing that comes to mind is Las Vegas. And while any remaining neon signs in Philly are not relegated simply to South Broad Street, this area presents itself as a grand boulevard of opportunity. The current "Avenue of the Arts" stream of culture and entertainment ends at Washington Avenue, anchored by the four "interesting" columns on the corners, the Marine Club, the car dealership-turned-Rock Ballet School, a vacant lot with half a train shed, and another vacant lot that once hosted Cirque du Soleil when it was in town.
Let’s continue the party down Broad Street! Our first stop is the old Boot & Saddle Bar, located at 1131 S. Broad Street, which according to its sign offered country and western music. It has been closed since about 1995 but many remember it being the only country bar in South Philly. One person even remembered that, “it was really weird. Occasionally, they would just play the National Anthem, seemingly for no reason. If you didn’t stand, you would be asked to leave.” How patriotic! There was a reason for it, though, as a majority of the clientele were sailors from the nearby Navy Yard. At any rate, while the sign itself makes rehabilitation efforts limited, there is still plenty that could be done with the building – it just takes some imagination (and the right amount of money).
Just down from the Boot & Saddle is Philips Restaurant and Cocktail Lounge (with air conditioning!), 1145 S. Broad Street, next to the now-shuttered Broad Street Diner. Philips is situated in a gorgeous brownstone but ceased being a restaurant some time ago. I am not quite sure what is in the rest of the building, but it appears that a cluttered antique shop occupies the first floor of the space. With its long and narrow sign and a canopy that comes down the front steps and extends to the street like a welcoming glove, can you not see limousines pulling up and letting its occupants out for a night cap? They could even demolish the old diner and put in an outdoor garden for its customers on the spot.
Next on our tour is Meglio Furs, 1300 S. Broad Street. Again, another shuttered building with very distinctive features. No one is quite certain when Meglio’s ceased operations, but mannequins and advertisements still grace its graffiti-covered display windows. A furrier itself speaks glamor, so converting this space should be a no-brainer!
While I am sure there were several other neon signs along Broad Street that no longer exist, the last stop on our tour is much further south, ending at the Dolphin Tavern, 1539 S. Broad Street. Unlike the previous examples, this place is still in operation. It is nothing more than a dive bar and a place to shoot pool, but it has been a South Philadelphia institution for quite some time. Like the Boot & Saddle, it catered to the Navy Yard set.
With these four examples, there certainly has to be someone out there clever enough to come up with an entertainment district along South Broad Street, something that evokes the glitz, glamor, and gaudiness of Las Vegas. Now that casinos are allowed in Pennsylvania, isn’t it time for Philly to have its own Little Las Vegas?
