East Market Might Grow Before It's Even Finished

NREA's director, Daniel Killinger, said a decision will be made next month on whether to move forward with East Market's second residential tower. Considering the changes taking place on Market East and the nearby Gayborhood, the transformation Center City itself is undergoing, and the growing rental market in Philadelphia, it wouldn't be surprising for NREA to maximize its footprint. 

If you recall, one of the original renderings showed two residential towers, one on each retail podium. At an additional twenty stories, East Market is tall. Many have expressed concerns about its impact on the view of the iconic PSFS Building, but East Market isn't what most would consider a skyscraper, and its setback from the curb is likely a deliberate decision to avoid swallowing the historic building across the street. 

In every way, NREA's East Market is what's right with development. Its flashy signage, retail, and entertainment is positioned near the convention center and hotels where it's expected, while quaint Ludlow pays homage to the narrow streets of nearby Washington Square West. 

Many developers, particularly those from elsewhere like NREA, could have simply planted a towering glass curtain that detracts from the corridor's history, but it chose to break up the block. NREA could have incorporated a parking garage into its retail podium, but it put its parking underground. It salvaged and renovated the old Family Court Building instead of razing and starting from scratch. And while it could have just built one windowless podium for a Big Box chain or two, it is creatively interacting with the street and offering pedestrians an urban experience instead of something to simply walk around. 

It seems the planners and architects at NREA looked at the land and designed something they themselves would live in. 

I'm not an architect, but when I worked for what was then the largest and most successful dot com in the world, we had a saying, "If you wouldn't buy it, don't build it." This is exactly what is required of good planning and design, or any creative business. The second you start cheaply cashing in, and cashing out, is the moment you collapse.

It's a rewarding lesson local developers like Bart Blatstein would be smart to learn. With his monolithic apartment towers, massive parking podium, and windowless Big Box stores proposed for Broad and Washington, a near carbon copy of East Market would be a massive win for both his wallet, his reputation, and the neighborhoods that surround Broad and Washington. But as it is, it's a bit ironic that a local developer would lack any care in crafting a project that truly benefits his own town at the most granular level, while NREA, a company with no personal investment in Philadelphia has chosen to set our bar for us. Perhaps NREA is just a better planner than those we have in-house, and if so, we could use a few more like them.

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. 

Would Bart live there?

The latest renderings for Bart Blatstein's yet-to-be named Broad & Washington project are in, and let's just say, there's a lot going on. Somewhere between the vision of a madman and an 11th grade shop class project, at least Broad & Washington gives us more to talk about than his (next) strip-mall proposed for Columbus Boulevard. 

jayfar at PhiladelphiaSpeaks.com managed to dig up a twelve year old article that sheds a little light on Bart Blatstein's motivations, how the Piazza happened, and why he clings to the outdated ideas he knows too well. As it turns out, the Piazza wasn't so much a fluke as it was divine intervention from three other professionals who know a little more about urban spaces than the man who made a fortune paving over the waterfront. 

Back then, Inga Saffron suggested Blatstein read Suburban Nation, a book that both defines what makes a city walkable, and why people would want to walk there. He was also introduced to Tom McDonald, an architect and builder who suggested he consult the firm of Erdy-McHenry. McDonald offered his professional opinion and a sketch for a more urban-friendly project, one that would ultimately become the Piazza. 

Blatstein admits that his ego almost kept him from meeting with McDonald. It's not hard to imagine what Northern Liberties would feel like today without the Piazza, just take a look at the South Philadelphia Acme. But Blatstein reluctantly returned to McDonald's sketch and - frustrating as it was for him - found it to be too good of an idea to pass up. 

He hired Erdy-McHenry to design the buildings surrounding the Piazza, and their neo-brutalist apartment blocks put Philadelphia back on the architectural map. 

But old habits die hard, especially when fueled by an unchecked ego. In 2003, when Blatstein was trying to stray from formulaic shopping centers, he admitted his new ideas were "Disneyesque," his own word that perfectly describes his plans for Broad & Washington. When Blatstein treads into urbanism without consultation, his ideas attempt to blend the comforts of suburbia with the appearance of a city. He's reaching for an ideal that many developers would love to master, but one without precedent. 

He's actually onto something. A lot of New Philadelphians were raised in the suburbs, and they'd love to have city life with the lazy creature comforts of their parents' cul de sac. But suburbia simply can't exist within a true urban landscape. What makes one comfortable or convenient will always come at the cost of a comfort or convenience of the other. What defines urban and suburban make combining the two like bumping magnets together on the same side. You end up with this "Disneyesque" idea for Broad & Washington.

The tower itself, designed by Cope Linder, is astonishing in its sheer size, especially for a corner so far from the city's tallest, most massive skyscrapers. It will stand out, but it's size is a welcome addition to a block we now consider Center City, and the building doesn't look half bad. It may even encourage more dense, urban development on the suburbanized blocks of Broad between South and Washington. 

The superblock is relatively simple and conventional: big box retailers capped with a parking garage and apartments. You can find dozens of carbon copies from Beijing to Houston. But things get wacky on the roof. 

I get it, what do you do with that much unused space on top of a parking garage? Well, you could Google a few ideas or just look across the river at Cira Green. But Blatstein resurrected his tiny-town idea from the defunct Provence Casino plans at the Inquirer Building. 

The problem with the tiny-town idea is that Broad & Washington isn't Las Vegas, Hollywood, or Orlando. It's a dense, urban neighborhood with a lot of feet...on the ground. His elevated, outdoor shopping concourse is an asymmetrical cluster of shops and restaurants, mostly fortressed off by towers rendering any potential wow-factor from its elevation pointless. 

What views are offered don't even face the skyline. Who's going to go to Broad & Washington to eat at a Chili's that might - maybe - face Point Breeze? Aside from tourists, most urbanites shop at stores they see from the street. Can you imagine how depressing this place will be in the winter, two years in when the only retail left is a Santander bank and an Auntie Anne's? This begs the even more quizzical question: who's going to want to live in the apartments on top of these shops? It basically looks like an outlet mall. 

Urbex Instagrammers are going to love this place in ten years. 

Not that any of this matters. He's back in Atlantic City trying to resuscitate a town Donald Trump didn't even want. He might be just the man for that job, too. Atlantic City's quasi-urban outlet village is exactly where Blatstein's brain goes to when he tries to be urban on his own. Tiny-towns and faux shopping villages fly in destination cities and tourist traps, not because they're particularly good ideas, but because the vast majority of those walking the streets simply don't care about the quality of life in those places. 

Back at home he needs to adopt a bit of humility and accept the fact that he's a developer, not an architect or urban planner, and open himself up to insightful collaboration. As a man renovating his own private residence at one of the city's most urban addresses - Rittenhouse Square - he needs to ask himself of every project, "Would I live there?" 

If the answer's "no," it's probably a bad idea. 

And my guess is Bart Blatstein, even a poor Bart Blatstein, wouldn't want to live upstairs from a Modell's on top of a parking garage. 

Why are we still talking about Bart Blatstein?

At the height of the building boom, Bart Blatstein, the developer behind the Piazza at Schmidt's, was lauded by locals as a pioneering visionary. His quasi-public plaza in the not-quite-there-yet Northern Liberties was seen as a daring and risky move, and Erdy-McHenry's architecture cradled that. Philadelphia's press and bloggers couldn't get enough of Blatstein.

He was the man that was going to reinvent the city, the Goose that Laid the Golden Egg.

His company, Tower Investments, has managed to make a name for itself. The former State Office Building on North Broad was renovated and rebranded Tower Place, and several of Tower's other projects handsomely compliment the Piazza. 

For years, Blatstein taunted the press with his next move. He got his hands on the Inquirer Building and proposed the Provence Casino. He snagged the long vacant corner of Broad and Washington where he pitched twin towers and a shopping complex. He partnered in a deal for the Delaware Station to convert the industrial relic into a massive event space. 

Then he set his sights on Atlantic City, began renovating the Pier Shops at Caesars, and it seemed he had abandoned Philadelphia and anyone who gave a shit about his portfolio of unused properties. 

But the truth is, he never left. Whenever we thought he was gone, he'd find himself an unintended voice in a story involving local development. Just two weeks ago he told BizJournal's Natalie Kostelni, "It's time" for North Broad Street, yet half of his vested interest in the Avenue sits vacant. Maria Panaritis dedicated an entire article to the man dubbing him a risk taker, opening exclusively with a love letter to the man's private Rittenhouse mansion.

Meanwhile, developers like National Real Estate Advisors are moving mountains on East Market. Brandywine is redefining the University City skyline with a renowned architecture firm's skyscraper. Liberty Property Trust is partnered in building the tallest building between New York and Chicago. 

While NREA, Brandywine, and Liberty are faceless entities, perhaps it's a man the press is enamored with. Eric Bumenfeld is a similar developer who garners similar attention, but he's hardly a celebrity in the local press. Carl Dranoff, though he's never done anything exceptionally daring or reinvented the wheel, is consistently building and clearly loves working more than attention. 

As someone who made one good move and a few decent ones over the past decade, why do we still care so much about Bart Blatstein? Like someone who just won the lottery, Bart Blatstein can't seem to focus his attention on one purchase, project, or investment. He sprays a sense of capitalistic ADHD across the Jerseyvania Triangle in disordered chaos, that is until he wants to grab a headline. 

Unlike Blumenfeld or Dranoff, and certainly straying from the formality of NREA, Brandywine, and Liberty; Blatstein has become Philadelphia's Donald Trump. Wherever there's a reporter, he's there to tell us what we want to hear: Broad and Washington will be amazing, the Inquirer Building will reinvent North Broad, and that abandoned power station on the Delaware River will be the East Coast's Coachella. 

He's a showman through and through, and it's beginning to look like the one thing he did smashingly perfect - the Piazza - was nothing but a fluke. 

But it wasn't a fluke nor was it that risky. There are a few pieces of Blatstein's portfolio that strategically lack a photograph on his company's website, namely River View and Columbus Crossing, that prove he isn't the urban trailblazer that brought feet back to the sidewalks of Philadelphia.

Neither an indie developer who rewrote urbanism nor one who altruistically saved a piece of North Broad modernism, Blatstein is a calculated businessman who bankrolled projects like the Piazza by first solidifying Columbus Boulevard as a piss-poor suburban wasteland by making strip-malls the new South Philly normal. 

With Blumenfeld bringing the Divine Lorraine back to life and Dranoff keeping urbanism tight, why is Blatstein still the press's Man of the Hour?

Like so many other charismatic moneymen, years of reveals for "the next Piazza" have been nothing more than a dog and pony show. Flashy renderings of towers flanking Broad and Washington and defunct plans for a casino atop the Inquirer Building serve to both distract and divide the public while the media, knowing how easy it is to jingle a set of keys in front of its readers, is his worthy partner. 

Past the pomp and soundbites, he's up to his old tricks. It was recently announced that Blatstein has proposed another strip-mall at Columbus Boulevard and Washington Avenue, a car-centric project that will put the kibosh on the Delaware River Waterfront Corporation's plans to replicate the success of the Schuylkill Banks on the eastern shores of the city. 

Unfortunately for Blatstein, his proposal was almost universally panned. Drexel University's Harris Steinberg called it "a regression." Jason Bock, who helped Blatstein plan the damn thing, even said, "it's going to be an urban development that's going to look like a suburban development."

These aren't words many Philadelphians this side of the New Millennium really want to hear. Given Bock's comments and Blatstein's vision, it would seem that the man who invented the American Piazza doesn't necessarily get urbanism or the New Philadelphians who largely make up his market. Inga Saffron was even more blunt on Facebook, posting, "Guess Bart Blatstein has given up on that new urbanist stuff."

While it's true that the Piazza may never have happened without Columbus Crossing or River View, that doesn't mean either had to happen, and certainly doesn't mean either should happen again. The success of the Piazza and Tower Place have proven that urbanism isn't risky. In fact, it's exactly what Philadelphia wants right now. 

But old habits die hard.

Strip-malls are cheap cash cows, at least for now. If another one on Columbus Boulevard can fund the transformation of Broad and Washington, I'll take it. But with so many other developers truly embracing Philadelphia's urban roots, why is the man who built one good thing once upon a time still the public's go-to guy when the latest thing he's released is so uninspired and architecturally irresponsible? 

We don't need to make any assumptions when it comes to Bart Blatstein and his attitude towards the better city we'd all like to have. Take his own words on the Delaware River Trail, 
"In spirit, I am for the river trail. In reality, it would be sold for a fraction of the market value of the property."

That's no architectural superhero, and not a Philadelphian we should be idolizing. 

Is Blatstein Done with Philadelphia?

Has Bart Blatstein - the man behind Northern Liberties' Piazza and Tower Investments, the developer who was allegedly planning to transform the vacant lot at Broad and Washington into more than 1000 apartments - given up on Philadelphia?

Not long ago he had conceived of the vacant Inquirer Building as a hotel and casino and an abandoned PECO power plant along the Delaware as a destination resort.

But in a recent Huffington Post article, Blatstein seems to imply that his days in Philadelphia - or development in general - may be coming to a close. It's no secret he's been spending time focused on his planned investment in Atlantic City. The town is in trouble and could use an injection of creativity, perhaps the kind of dynamic intervention that transformed Northern Liberties. It's also no secret that Bart Blatstein has a house nearby in Margate, NJ. 

Could he be cashing out and going home?

He told the Huffington Post that he views Atlantic City as his "last hurrah," one the Post referred to as "his last chance to make a mark in an urban area." Those remarks may mean little to the Post's New York and New Jersey readers, but it says a lot about Philadelphia and Blatstein's plans for his portfolio of prime lots and vacant icons here. 

If he's done, it's odd that he ditched the momentum. Tower Place helped bring North Broad Street back to life, an avenue that's about to boom with the renovation of the Divine Lorraine. Renovating his Inquirer Building would have been a logical next-step in Blatstein's reign over Broad Street, one that could have been bookended at Broad and Washington, bankrolled by his success on North Broad. 

If he really is finished with Philadelphia, let's hope his properties change hands quickly and smoothly, and fall in the lap of someone ambitious. The lot at Broad and Washington and the Inquirer Building aren't your average urban meadow and North Philly shell, they're significant sites that need serious maintenance, even when vacant. 

Delaware Station Hotel

Developer, Bart Blatstein, ever the optimistic visionary behind Northern Liberties' Piazza and a grand proposal for Broad and Washington, isn't afraid of diving in headfirst. If you thought his proposed casino in the old Inquirer Building was outlandish, the next stop on Blatstein's Philadelphia Dreamin' tour won't disappoint you.

Along with Joseph Volpe, Blatstein has agreed to purchase the Delaware Station power plant from Exelon. The plant is just north of Penn Treaty Park in Fishtown.

Volpe's Ceachaphe Event Group organizes lavish wedding receptions throughout Philadelphia, and the pair plan to capitalize on the power station's unique architecture, cavernous interior, and prime location. Housing two hotels, each with its own massive ballroom, the venue might even come with its own marina. 

It's a winning plan for both the historic building and the neighborhood, but its location on the Delaware River might be its most positive attribute. For decades, Philadelphia has struggled to embrace our rivers. Park improvements along the Schuylkill have transformed residents' relationship with our waters, and the Delaware River Waterfront Corporation is struggling to follow suit.

But unlike cities such as Chicago or Seattle, heavily developed along their shores with both parks and skyscrapers, Philadelphia's developers have largely shied away from marketing waterfront properties.

With the exception of Manayunk, the Delaware and Schuylkill Rivers are parks, ports, or parking lots. Where the built environment does meet the shores, it's vastly suburban or abandoned. Perhaps the financial failure of Waterfront Square and the massive outpouring of resistance against SugarHouse Casino have discouraged developers from getting their feet wet.

Redeveloping, and rethinking the Delaware Station might signal the beginning of a new trend, one our rivers should be eager to receive. As the DRWC continues to improve the river's public space north and south, turning on the lights above Penn Treaty Park helps break the mental barrier between Center City and points north. 

Broad and Washington

Thanks to kidphilly on PhiladelphiaSpeaks.com, we know a little more about Bart Blatstein's plans for the long dormant "Cirque Hole" at Broad and Washington. 

While many keep calling this "the next Piazza," I suggest we hang that up. This is not the Piazza. The Piazza is relatively detached from the urban experience. It's insular. If the plan for Broad and Washington happens in its entirety, it could be far more urban than the Piazza ever intended to be.

With two towers roughly thirty stories high, Broad and Washington could carry the city's skyline south while drawing upper South Philadelphia neighborhoods into Center City. One can hope it will also inspire improvements in the vastly suburbanized street scape between South Street and Washington Avenue.

At 750 parking spaces, it can provide some much needed parking for the Italian Market and mobile neighbors.

However, with 1600 residential units, the endeavor is ambitious even for Center City, let alone what is technically part of South Philadelphia. Also, in what are hopefully preliminary renderings, Broad and Washington lacks the Piazza's futuristic architecture brought to us by our own Erdy-McHenry. 

Seriously, the Piazza's concrete walls, angular windows, and Piet Mondrian-esque color blocks are straight out of a Battlestar Galactaca flashback. But at Broad and Washington, save a few floors and it would easily blend in King of Prussia. 

But will its most exciting components even happen, or are they simply being used to pitch what will essentially be a big box retailer on a city street? When the Gallery at Market East, a similar concept, was pitched it included two sleek, albeit bland, towers that never emerged. Will the same "we'll get to it someday" be true of Blatstein's Broad and Washington towers?

What the Gallery at Market East was supposed to be.

Broad and Washington

The northeast corner of Broad and Washington has been vacant for a long, long time. Between hosting weeds and probably hobo camps (I don't know, I didn't live here in the 90s but that's what I picture), it's emptiness is seemingly inexplicable. But there are reason it's sat vacant.

The size of the parcel is obvious. For what's only relatively recent prime real estate, it's taken a long time for any developer to look at it as more than space for a suburban megamart. Now that it's desirable land hugging million dollar condos and yuppie filled rowhouses, it's looking for someone to build something befitting the Avenue of the Arts.

But it isn't just on the Avenue of the Arts, Broad and Washington is the gateway to the Avenue.

When Bart Blatstein fulfills his agreement to purchase the lot from Hudson Capital, he plans a movie theater, a gym, a grocery store, restaurants, retail spaces, and tons of parking. What he hasn't yet planned is the pizazz you should find at this corner, at least not yet.

For now, his site plan looks fine...for something like the corner of 44th and Walnut. It services its neighborhood with oodles of resources, but on paper it's the kind of dull infill that should be replacing the blocks of suburban boredom between South and Carpenter. It just doesn't say "Welcome to Center City" the way Broad and Washington could, or should.

Given Blatstein's experience with the Piazza, he could bring on an architect like Erdy-McHenry, a firm versed in dramatic midrise complexes that don't scare NIMBYs with shadows.

Toll Brothers and Irresponsible Urban Design

In a recent Philadelphia Real Estate blog, Toll Brothers has come to their own defense. Toll Brothers, long loathed by Philadelphia urbanites for its isolated, suburban designs, is no stranger to criticism. In fact, architecturally, they are frequently excused from any discussion because their designs simply aren't worthy of critique. In other words, they're projects aren't good enough to be deemed "bad architecture."

That said, Toll Brothers is a wildly successful development firm, and more importantly, local. According to Toll Brothers Vice President, Brian Emmons, that success is bent on appeasing shareholders and neighborhood organizations through safe design. Private developers can take risks with lots of their own cash, whereas Toll Brothers needs to guarantee a prompt return on their investments. But a prompt return for investors isn't a long term investment in the city.

Proposed Toll Brothers project at the former New Market complex in Society Hill

Toll Brothers claims that market research indicates luxury consumers like parking, and even a detachment from retail and business. That's a tough assertion to swallow when the bulk of Toll Brothers' market live in the McMansions the firm helped invent. The claim also becomes a bit of a self fulfilling prophesy when you deliver your market exactly what they think they want. That's the kind of conservative approach that turned The Learning Channel into a nonstop Honey Boo Boo marathon.

People won't want more if architects - artists in their own right - don't deliver them something new. That is until you've completely dumbed down the supply so much consumers become absolutely sick of it. Like reality television.

While Toll Brothers' urban market might echo the suburban market's desire for parking and isolation, and delivering that might provide a profitable return, giving the New Money exactly what they want won't change the fact that they'll tire of the urban ills they're trying to avoid behind a gate or garage.

Anyone seeking isolation in neighborhoods as densely populated as Society Hill and Graduate Hospital, as desirable as the proximity to theaters and restaurants may be, will and have been exhausted by the poor schools, crime, and taxes that tenured residents integrated into the fabric of the city are willing to trade for the urban experience.

A city is more than a portfolio of independent properties, it's a complicated algorithm of its parts. Emmons has cited private developers struggling to attract retail and tenants at the Murano and Piazza, but both examples are responsible cogs in a broader collective effort to terraform emerging neighborhoods. They weren't designed to provide an exponential return on the investment, but to provide a lasting infrastructure.

Toll Brothers might not employ artists when it comes to design, but they're masters at business. I have to respect them for that, but it's an art more responsibly reserved for the suburbs. The Murano and Piazza may be struggling to attract tenants, but that isn't unheard of, especially in neighborhoods like Market East and Northern Liberties.

A decade from now the Murano and Piazza will have established their purpose, while Toll Brothers' projects will, at best, be dull infill. Worse, these pockets of suburban isolation could outlive their usefulness when their market realizes they didn't want to live in the city after all, leaving them to be discarded like a disposable suburban stripmall.

Casino Craze: Part Deux

Bart Blatstein resurrected the Great Casino Debate with his proposed entertainment complex at the Inquirer Building which, admittedly, I think is a bit too Vegas for Center City. Not the casino itself, mind you, but the Tiny Town he proposed building on the roof of the building.

With a little excitement behind the second leg of the debate (and a lot of resistance), developer Ken Goldenberg has thrown his name into the casino hat with a proposal at a much more logical location: Market East. More specifically, the abhorred Disney Hole. Of course it's easy to dub this proposal Disney 2.0, but the same could be said for any entertainment project of this scale.

The preliminary rendering is vague at best, but pretty sleek. Backed by Campus Apartments and Deutsch Bank, the promise of investors are just as exciting as a destination attraction on our forlorn Market East.

Called Market8, Goldberg is off to a good start claiming the entertainment complex will only "happen to have a casino." The venue would offer numerous restaurants and retail, and best of all, underground parking.

Bye-bye, Disney Hole.

Hey, I'm a dreamer.

The multi-faceted approach isn't just the best way to pitch a casino, but the city should have required the approach all along.

SugarHouse was one of the city's biggest planning debacles. The proposal was grand, but phased, and the first phase called for a slot barn and a parking garage.

It's funny how the city decides to exert its muscle. They micromanage parks and condos, but when it came to SugarHouse, there were no caveats.

For the record, I'm all for casinos. Not personally. They're trashy, tacky, and for me, a waste of money. However, the same could be said for City Council itself.

But Philadelphia is big enough to provide plenty of entertainment for everyone. A lot of people sell the city short, not the least of which are those who rabidly charge themselves with saving Market East. Those activists have cost the city millions debating benign improvements to this part of town.

Philadelphia is chock full of quaint Colonialism, but we aren't Williamsburg and Market East isn't the place to preserve history, particularly when its few historic properties are already protected. Give the Capitalists their playground.

With that said, the State and City missed the mark with SugarHouse, and we have a second chance to work hand in hand with private developers to mark drastic improvements to our city's core.

I will never understand why the city didn't grant SugarHouse a casino license only contingent on better development. SugarHouse's proposal had plenty of competition. They would have done anything to get that license. The city missed an opportunity to get a lot of free improvements. City Council could have gotten more than just the dynamic casino complex SugarHouse originally proposed, we could have gotten a free Delaware Avenue lightrail.

At this point SugarHouse can likely claim that it's not profitable to expand it's non-gaming oriented entertainment or hotel. I doubt that's true, but the city put no requirements on them to expand, so they're content. If the city required a hotel and convention space as part of SugarHouse's "Phase 1" the project would be a lot more exciting than it is.

If Market8 has a chance at becoming a reality, the city should seize the opportunity to not just require more than a casino from Goldenberg's venue, but ask him to flip the bill for some of the improvements this corridor desperately needs.

Tower Place

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.

Blatstein's New Empire

Blatstein's been a buzz this week in Philly's blogosphere. Most of the ink is over the typical shenanigans that make developing anything in this town as acid-inducing as trying to wrap your head around the success of Glee. There's no use going into the maniacal specifics taking place at 1400 Spring Garden short of saying it's costing both sides tens of thousands of dollars and is being held up in part by the great thorn in Philadelphia's ass, PREIT.

With that said, the sale of the State Office Building to Bart Blatstein of Tower Development is moving forward, even if at a snail's pace. With the never ending success of the Piazza at Schmidt's transforming a once desolate pocket of Northern Liberties into a new city of its own, and Avenue North anchoring an element of - well, something other than a crime statistic - in North Philadelphia, Blatstein's vision for Broad and Spring Garden will be met with eager anticipation. If this corner sees a fraction of the success seen at the Piazza it could be the catalyst to bridge the gap between Center City and Temple University.

The project is purported to include apartments or condos, shopping, and possibly a high rise addition. New residential life on North Broad Street could not only bring life to the street itself but open up the insular Loft District and link Spring Garden and Fairmount to Center City, maybe even someday encouraging the redevelopment of the architectural gems along Ridge Avenue and of course the sadly neglected Divine Lorraine.