Mother Divine

To all those who love the Divine Lorraine, here's your Friday treat. In 2003, Temple senior Jeff Elstone was allowed to film his short, Mother Divine, in the North Broad relic then maintained by International Peace Movement Mission caretaker David Peace.

Set in an unknown era, the neo-noir film offers a glimpse into the Divine Lorraine that few ever witnessed, and even less experienced. It's dark, beautiful, and austere. 

I rarely know what to think of art films, but one thing I do appreciate is their production - beyond the confines of product placement, executive notes, and test audiences - of something that they perceive to be absolute perfection. 

And this one is perfect in its simplicity.

On its surface, Mother Divine may appear to be another story about love, life, and the impact of the decisions we make. But dig a little deeper, and it's a story that couldn't be set anywhere else. It's a story about us, what we chose to be, what's to come, and how the Divine Lorraine embodies all of that. 


Mother Divine from Jeff Elstone on Vimeo.

The Next Divine Lorraine

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. 

Groundbreaking the Divine

To anyone who knows Philadelphia, the Divine Lorraine is more famous (or infamous) than the Betsy Ross House, the Liberty Bell, and Independence Hall combined. Once a beacon for Father Divine's followers towering over the crossroads of Fairmount, Ridge, and North Broad, the International Peace Movement Mission came to a crossroads of its own in the late 90s and early 2000s. 

Because of the church's unorthodox teaching: "no undue mixing of the sexes," Father Divine's followers, as well as Mother's, weren't known for propagating new followers. With few new recruits in the late 20th and early 21st Centuries (if any at all), the church has dwindled to all but a few who live out their days in Gladwyne, PA at The Mount of the House of the Lord. 

The fate of the Mount, known historically as Woodmont, has sparked its own questions. The mammoth Gilded Age estate is nestled in the cushy Main Line suburbs where history can be easily traded for million dollar mansions with indoor hockey rinks. If Woodmont estate were to be carved up for more homes, or worse, demolished, it wouldn't be the first time the Main Line lost something so grand.

But for now, Woodmont is safe. The Divine Lorraine, on the other hand, has had a recent history nearly as storied as its history with the church. Passed around for the last decade and a half like a pricy game of hot potato, the Divine Lorraine was gutted and left for dead. Open to the elements, the smell of rotting wood and spray paint can be smelled from the surrounding blocks. 

When local developer, Eric Blumenfeld purchased the building a few years ago, Divine Fatigue had set in amongst Philadelphians, and many of us thought the new ownership might signal the demise of the Divine Miss L.

Then someone named William "Billy" Procida got involved. The North Jersey based developer helped transform Manhattan's Hell's Kitchen into what it is today. And today, apparently bored with no corner of New York left to terraform, Procida has decided to join Blumenfeld in the herculean task of changing the way Philadelphians think about North Broad Street.

If any building were to signify North Broad Street's, even North Philadelphia's awakening from a long dormant hibernation, it's the Divine Lorraine. It's more than an architectural feat spoken by locals within the same breath as City Hall or the PSFS Building, it also sits at the confluence of three major arterial avenues and the gateway to North Philadelphia. With development taking place at major intersections along North Broad and Temple University's influence expanding into the neighborhoods, the Divine Lorraine is the key to getting Center City dwellers to walk north and explore a part of the city that really isn't that far away.

The long wait is now over, it would seem, as tomorrow afternoon, Eric Blumenfeld, Mayor Michael Nutter, and a few other City Hall big wigs will be hosting a heavily publicized groundbreaking at the Divine Lorraine. Obviously ceremonial as no ground need be broken, the event is long overdo and well worth the pomp. 

The event takes place tomorrow, September 16th at 1PM. Be sure to bring your camera and get some good pictures as this may be one of your last chances to see the Divine Lorraine in all its blighted glory. 

The Divine Lorraine Hotel

If the hopeful Jacob Adelman at the Inquirer is any indication, the Divine Lorraine might soon live up to its name. What do I mean? Well, with the Divine Lorraine's redevelopment possibly beginning this month, this will likely be the catalyst North Broad Street has long needed. 

Let's back up though. Like anything regarding the Divine Lorraine, it's easy to be skeptical. When the Divine Lorraine was occupied by the International Peace Movement Mission, it was a budget hotel with strange rules owned by an even stranger religious cult. It wasn't exactly signaling any key players to invest in North Broad. But it was keeping North Broad Street alive. Think of it as Market East's Strawbridge & Clothier. As soon as its doors were shuttered, an era was over, and the only thing capable of saving the corridor was massive reinvention. 

Since the Divine Lorraine closed its doors in 2000, it became nothing but an old building in a bad part of town no developers wanted anything to do with. For several years, a lone member of the International Peace Movement Mission lived onsite as its caretaker, keeping away graffiti artists and urban explorers. But when it was sold to a foreign investor in 2006, it was gutted, sold for scrap, and left for dead.

That's when the elements took over. 

To those unfamiliar with a Divine Lorraine before it was tagged with "BONER FOREVER," or unfamiliar with cities before the 21st Century, the dumpy hotel wasn't unusual. In fact, the only thing strange about the Divine Lorraine were its owners - the cult of Father Divine - and the fact that it had remained in near-original condition. 

As a hotel, the city was full of similar budget beds, even in nice Center City neighborhoods. Throughout the late 20th Century, places like the Adelphia House and the Spruce Parker offered similarly sparse amenities for a few bucks a night, or a few more for the week or month. 

Perhaps it was the cult's rules - such as no "undo mixing of the sexes," no alcohol or drugs, and a strict dress code - that kept its tenants respectful and the structure intact. Even in its current state, though, the Divine Lorraine holds an air of mystery and a unique sense of optimism for this otherwise struggling corridor, especially amongst those who remember seeing its lights on. 

For fifteen years, most developers have only seen it as blight, but residents have seen divinity. But in the last few years, the Divine Lorraine has even seemed to enrapture even some of the most bottom-lined developers. In 2012, Eric Blumenfeld purchased the property and has been promising to redevelop it ever since. Having developed several other properties on North Broad, Blumenfeld has a vested interest in the corridor. But he has also expressed a passionate interest in the Divine Lorraine itself. Like Blumenfeld, Billy Procida, a developer who helped reinvent New York's Hell's Kitchen, was equally wooed by the Divine Lorraine, and agreed to contribute $30M towards its renovation.

So what now? Well, like the Divine Lorraine, we wait. It's impossible to know what will happen if and when the Divine Lorraine reopens its doors. Ridge Avenue has gradually been getting redeveloped from both the east and west, inching its way towards the Divine Lorraine, so now seems as good as time as any to get started. 

What will happen to the properties along North Broad pose the bigger questions. Even with four restaurants planned for Divine Lorraine, will it foster an island of development at this lone intersection, or will it encourage more developers to get on board. After all, the Divine Lorraine isn't the only landmark laying in wait. The fate of the Metropolitan Opera House is unknown and the Inquirer Building has sat empty since the newspaper moved to Market East. It seems everyone is waiting to see what will happen to the Divine Lorraine. 

In a city that's no stranger to demolishing our aging landmarks for speculative development, the most unique page in the Divine Lorraine's history book may be that no one, not one developer has proposed its demolition. For decades, it was a jewel in the crown of North Broad and the International Peace Movement Mission's portfolio of historic architecture. Perhaps Father Divine is still watching over his Divine Lorraine Hotel.

The Beury Building

When it comes to development in Philadelphia, rarely does a plan come along that simply makes sense. When it does, it's reactionary and long overdue, like East Market on Market East. Others that seem to make sense are so far out they only make sense on paper, like numerous master plans proposed for the entirety of the Delaware Waterfront. 

But occasionally a gem comes along. One that both anticipates a current and inevitable progression while managing to get out in front of it before the legitimate concerns of longtime neighbors are replaced by the pseudo-intellectualized ideals of Whole Foods bound yuppies (cough, Northern Liberties).

With years of buzz surrounding the Divine Lorraine and her corner of North Broad Street, Shift Capital has begun looking a little further beyond the confines of Greater Center City, at North Broad's other Divine Lorraine and its vicinity. The Beury Building at Broad and Lehigh isn't where the connected want to be, or even near it. As PlanPhilly put it, it's not in "East Kensington, not South Kensington, and not Olde Kensington. Kensington." This is the real Kensington.

The Beury: North Broad's most important building

Kensington, home to many residents, but also home to urban mythology for those in Center City and South Philadelphia, is, in its current state, the kind of neighborhood where you'd find a masked vigilante's lair hidden neatly beneath a rusty training studio. And the Beury Building his beacon. 

With the exception of their respective architecture, the Beury Building may in fact be even more significant to North Broad's Renaissance than the Divine Lorraine itself. Although not nearly as astounding, it stands to bookend what may someday be a congruous Greater Center City. 

The building is urban, as is its intersection. Every bit as urban as any corner of Center City. Despite it being shrouded in more than fifty years of blighted patina, the Beury Building's corner was, and can again be, a relevant cog in Philadelphia's gridded narrative. If the city and its investors play their cards right.

Banking on Low Income Housing Tax Credits, Shift Capital hopes to house seniors on seven of the Beury Building's fourteen floors. While the idea was previously floated for the Divine Lorraine, it makes sense at the Beury. Kensington is an established community and the Beury Building is an ideal place to house its older residents. Perhaps learning from the mistakes of the suburbanized housing behind the Divine Lorraine, Shift Capital seems to understand the importantance of giving Broad and Erie a reason to retain its urbanity. That reason isn't simply in subsidized housing, but in the Beury Building's viable existence. 

With its proximity to Temple University and as part of North Broad's greater goals, it is imperative that the Beury Building not fall to the wrecking ball. Temple University's growth stands to provide a microcosm of what Penn, Drexel, and other colleges have done for University City. But dynamic development at and around the Divine Lorraine and the Beury Building could make North Broad a much more integrated success story. 

There is no question that the Divine Lorraine is a landmark, significant both architecturally and historically. But with redevelopment taking shape at Spring Garden and along Ridge Avenue, the intersection of Broad and Fairmount is on track with or without the Divine Lorraine. But without the Beury Building, North Broad's urban presence and should-be goal to expand that presence all the way to Erie would cease with its demolition.

Center City's Final Frontier

While the traditional boundaries of Center City lie between Vine and South Streets, it's easy to stray a bit north or south and argue otherwise. "Greater Center City," in fact, is comprised of blocks between Girard and Tasker. That's a stretch, but if you're walking along Spring Garden Avenue, there's no mistake, you are in the city.

But hit Broad and head east, that's another story. Whether it's councilmanic districting or a case of bad development attracting worse development, the neighborhoods of Greater Center City's northeastern quadrant are devoid of anything "central" until you get to Northern Liberties. Strip malls, sterile government facilities, and parking lots line Spring Garden with only an occasional relic to remind us of its industrial and residential roots.

The largest footprint of singular new development is suburban-styled subsidized housing awkwardly flanked by vacant and underutilized warehouses and railroad tracks. Even Callowhill - or the Loft District - with it's proximity to the literal core of the city continues to struggle with an abundance of surface parking, vacant lots, and empty warehouses. Nowhere is the crevasse between east and west more apparent than on North Broad Street, where Gilded Age mansions, churches, and theaters on the westside face unimpressive infill like car washes and auto parts stores. 

Still, the northeastern component of Greater Center City has a few gems waiting to be polished, and the future of this district - however it evolves - may depend on their revitalizations. 

You don't have to be a history or architectural nerd to be concerned with the area's most priceless resource, the Divine Lorraine Hotel. The Willis G. Hale masterpiece is one of the city's most iconic, infamous, and significant buildings, and despite countless promises, proposals, and praise, its future is still largely in question. EB Reality released a unique rendering that looks like a cartoon from Highlights Magazine, and I mean that in a good way.

Just behind the Divine Ms. L., Broad Street Holdings has proposed its own mixed use complex with a residential component. 

For now, this speculation may simply be more hype. EB Reality seems to love the media, and the media is its greatest enabler. Stories about the Divine Lorraine sell ads because we love that building so damn much. But while development has been charging east along Ridge Avenue, it comes to a grinding halt at the Divine Lorraine. It's creeping its way northwest from Callowhill but with a reserved lack of ambition. 

Massive projects are massive risks, even in Center City. But Broad and Fairmount isn't quite Center City, at least not yet, and the Divine Lorraine is a beast. There is no question that a resurrected Divine Lorraine would be a massive boon for the vicinity and certainly spawn additional development, but without that development, EB Reality knows it will have to wait for a handsome return. Right now, Philadelphia is just waiting for someone to make the first move.

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It isn't all uncertainty for this depressed pocket of the city, and it may simply be that the city needs to be the party to make that first move. And it's about to be made. Soon the city will be voting on a bill that will allow it to purchase a quarter mile stretch of the abandoned Reading Viaduct from SEPTA, after which several groups will be working together to convert it into an elevated park. 

Once a pipe dream to many and a hinderance to others, it looks as though the Reading Viaduct Park will be realized. And considering the city's recent investment in parks, and its final recognition that the improvement of public spaces actually encourages development, it could happen sooner than later. 

Hope for the Divine Lorraine...again

Local developers aren't really living up to their 2005 heyday as of late. Considering Philadelphia isn't just experiencing a massive building boom, but America is also having a love affair with us, it's baffling that Eric Blumenfeld and Bart Blatstein have been resting on their assets for so long.

With the exception of Carl Dranoff and Liberty Property Trust, a lot of Philadelphia's construction is taking place thanks to developers from elsewhere. It makes more sense, then, that Eric Blumenfeld's Divine Lorraine might finally happen. I've said that before. Who hasn't? But Blumenfeld's Divine Lorraine is being bankrolled by a developer versed in Manhattan-ease who just so happens to love the Divine Ms. L more than a kid at his first Chuck-e-Cheese birthday party.

PhillyMag.com reported that Billy Procida - a developer who's no stranger to terraforming urban neighborhoods - recently conducted a tour of this inexplicably blighted corridor.

We all want you back in our lives.

The Divine Lorraine, or the Lorraine Hotel designed by Willis G. Hale, spent most of its life 
as part of the International Peace Movement Mission, a cult presided over by Father Divine, a man whose follows regarded as God. The movement still exists with Mother Divine at the helm, but with dwindling numbers due to its rule, "no undue mixing of the sexes" (i.e. no sex), its larger Center City properties were sold off in the early 2000s. 

Since then, the Divine Lorraine has changed hands a number of times with even more speculation. Now, with development moving north from Spring Garden and south from Temple, and approaching the hotel along Ridge Avenue, the building may finally be resurrected. We hope.

Fate of the Metropolitan Opera House

The Divine Lorraine isn't the only beleaguered relic on Philadelphia's once - and briefly - grand North Broad Street. And I'm not just referring to the building's time worn glory, but also the development hell in which it sits.

The Metropolitan Opera House, which is probably more remembered for its role in 12 Monkeys than any opera it ever showed, stands nearby, barely recognizable from its former panache. 

Both are owned by developer Eric Blumenfeld, and both sit under giant question marks. 

The Metropolitan Opera House's ownership is a unique headache. Previously owned by the Holy Ghost Headquarters Revival Center at the Met, Inc.," presided over by Reverend Mark Hatcher, many were under the impression that the theater's renovation was to be a joint venture between the church and the developer. 

Say what you will about an "incorporated" church, the agreement certainly reeks of a shady deal. 

According to a recent article in the Daily News, Hatcher relinquished the $20M building's title to Blumenfeld for $1 in 2013. Whether or not the deal was insidious will be up to the courts. Hatcher is currently suing Eric Blumenfeld for fraud. 

Considering developers typically have a team of lawyers allocated to just this sort of claim, it may come down to one very expensive case of "seller beware." But as ridiculous as it is that a church is operating out of the basement of a building so large, and as naive as Hatcher may have been to assume that Blumenfeld ever saw a place for his church in such a costly project, I doubt Blumenfeld will ultimately wind up keeping the title for $1.

But just look at the building's condition. There is no way the building's proposed $10M renovation could cover the cost of truly restoring the opera house without divine intervention, perhaps something Hatcher was hoping for.

Philadelphia has demolished bigger buildings in better condition, and in better neighborhoods well within the 21st Century. Did Eric Blumenfeld ever intend on getting into the theater business, or did he take advantage of someone sitting on a piece of property in a part of the city just begging to pop? 

Brutal Honesty

We've heard it all before: The Divine Lorraine is about to be reborn. Since it was sold by Mother Divine in 2000, its fate has been unsure. Still, it's local lore's most mysterious and beloved landmark. The public has been, obviously, hopeful. 

It sat vacant, it's been gutted and abandoned, it's been tagged, and it's been mined for resources. In all ways, it is a tragic analogy for Philadelphia's love-hate relationship with its history. Our last movie palace met with demolition crews this year. Spring Garden's Church of the Assumption will likely suffer the same fate. 

With the Divine Lorraine's large footprint, it's easy to guess that the only reason it still stands is because it's on a costly intersection in a not-so-profit friendly part of town. Basically, no one's bothered to tear it down for a parking lot because no one wants to park there.

Philadelphian's can have an ironically obtuse outlook on history. Many cling to aging and irrelevant institutions like unions and midcentury diners, holding on to the nostalgia of our past, not the relics. What many cling to is their Philadelphia. Row homes decked out in Christmas lights in July. Bizarrely acceptable parking rules. 

We are a microcosm of Americana, a city of neighborhoods, and too many forget that we are also one city, one of the biggest in the nation. Those archaic platitudes that allow places like Fishtown and South Philadelphia to hold onto irrelevance creep their way into the greater city and adversely impact what we should be.

The Divine Lorraine is more than a metaphor for a city that loves to hate itself, it's an example of how its residents are inhibiting its future. 

North Jersey based developer, Billy Procida, has already agreed to funnel more than $31M into Eric Blumenfeld's Divine Lorraine, primarily because he simply likes the building.

Cities with economies as robust as New York may be accustomed to this sort of situation mainly because there's little risk in a city where people are fighting to spend $2000 a month on studio apartments. But here it's rare. There's no question that Procida would like to profit from his investment, but if that's all he was concerned with he'd be purchasing a beleaguered building in a developed part of the city. He'd be renovating the Spruce Parker or the Lincoln. 

But despite his wealth and penchant for terraforming neighborhoods, Philadelphia's midcentury mentality doesn't allow too much to be built without large grants from the state. The Philadelphia Industrial Development Corporation has approved $3.5M through the Redevelopment Capital Assistance Program. Philly.com's Joseph N. DiStefano asked, "Why do these Philly apartment projects need taxpayer assistance?" to which Procida bluntly replied, "They want everything to be union."

Despite near-daily protests at the Pennsylvania Convention Center, Philadelphia's development climate and its more reasonable unions seem ready and willing to embrace logic. Hotel bookings are up and that's directly correlated to improved work rules at the Center. Considering the precedent set by the Post Brothers at the Goldtex Apartment Building, Procida and Blumenfeld could likely move forward with market rate labor. 

But that means years of protests and complicated headaches at future projects. Until the more nostalgically bullheaded old timers recognize the fact that affordable labor means more work - or leave - development will continue to require what is essentially a government subsidy to accommodate unions. 

Chalet on the Delaware

The people have spoken and the Delaware River Waterfront Corporation has answered. Who knew? People like being on the water. I'll set aside my snarky remarks about the torrid history of Philadelphia's Delaware Waterfront for the positive direction it's taking.

Riding the success of the Spruce Street Harbor Park, Penn's Landing is being transformed into a Swiss ski chalet this winter. The RiverRink has been a hit for years, but in the past the waterfront has offered little else in its colder months. This year, RiverRink will have to compete with Dilworth Park's much more convenient and scenic iceskating rink. And they're doing it right.

Two tents known as The Lodge will be outfitted with cozy sofas and rocking chairs, and - of course - Garces Events will be bringing the menu. Remember Stephen Starr? What ever happened to that guy?

Familiar to those who frequented the Spruce Street Harbor Park, the retrofitted shipping containers will be back and full of gifts from Art Star and arcade games.

But here's the best part, and something just so quirky and uniquely Philadelphian: salvaged materials including fireplace mantles and other architectural details outfitting The Lodge are from none other than the city's grande dame of Broad Street, the Divine Ms. L.

A Divine Speakeasy

Eric Blumenfeld is speaking out on behalf of the Divine Lorraine, and what he has to say sounds pretty cool. 

The lobby is going to be one continuous space between the reception area and two restaurants. 

But even more interesting, Blumenfeld wants to reopen a shuttered speakeasy along Broad Street, an entrance on Broad leading to the basement.

Could one hotel and a few restaurants spur a renaissance on North Broad? In any other city, probably not. But the Divine Lorraine has a unique place in Philadelphia's history, one which has surprisingly been overlooked by Hollywood.

Despite the building's unique absence in popular culture - like many things Philadelphian - locals understand its place in history. The Divine Lorraine is no exception to the ills of urban explorers but even more would love a legal glimpse inside. 

Simply opening the building is likely to attract a profitable fixture on North Broad Street.

The Lights Are On! (updated)

No one seems to know when the Divine Lorraine's iconic sign was last illuminated, or when it was added to the rooftop for that matter. But two days ago, PlanPhilly posted a photograph by Steve Ives signaling the beginning of a new era for the long neglected North Broad beauty: the sign is lit.

Steve Ives

Once thought to be broken neon by many, the sign appears to be hundreds of red light bulbs, indicating that the sign was likely added before Father Divine took ownership of the property, predating the use of neon.

The age of the sign adds a new layer to the building's history. Prior to the use of neon, incandescent light bulbs were commonly packed closely together and used to illuminate similar signage. Many historic examples still exist in places like Las Vegas, but most were replaced with neon or fluorescent tubes that were cheaper and better traced the curves of the signs. Many more were removed all together, particularly today with durable and even cheaper LED illumination. 

It will be interesting to see how Eric Blumenfeld plans on restoring the sign, whether it will continue to be standard, red light bulbs, or if it will be replaced by neon or LED.

*as someone pointed out, I boneheadedly missed the obvious. The Divine Lorraine Hotel sign was obviously installed after Father Divine purchased the property, considering it was formerly named the Lorraine Hotel.

The Illuminated Divine Lorraine

Curbed provided a rendering of Eric Blumenfeld's renovated Divine Lorraine Hotel provided by EB Realty Management. 

If you think a rendering of an existing building isn't that exciting, consider the fact that most of us have never seen the Divine Lorraine Hotel sign illuminated in neon. 

Eat your heart out, PSFS. 

And check out the crowd hanging out on the sixth floor terrace. It looks like a scene from Spider-Man.

A New Avenue of the Arts

While North Broad Street is technically part of the Avenue of the Arts, much of its presence is in name only. North Broad has found itself hosting every stage in the evolution of the American city. It was crisscrossed by industry throughout the 19th Century, its north central points home to Philadelphia's elite during the early 20th Century, it's been lined with grand hotels, and hosted grand houses of art like the Metropolitan Opera.

Unfortunately it quickly declined following the Great Depression. Its beautiful hotels became flop houses, its mansions were abandoned or burned, while residents left amongst its decline turned to religion, converting the Met into a church and the Divine Lorraine into a refuge for the uniquely devout.

Like much of the city north of Vine Street, officials accumulated vacant land for urban necessities. The Vine Street Expressway sutured the north side of town from its siblings in Center City, exasperating the region's decline. Vast tracks of land were razed for public housing and Temple's campus began to wall itself from its neighbors.

West Philadelphia saw paralleled decline, but its wealthy universities have since helped transform it into one of Philadelphia's more prominent addresses. With the help of interested developers, North Broad Street could soon see a similar renaissance. Bart Blatstein's Tower Place at Broad and Spring Garden has brought new life to a once sketchy corner, new development is inching its way eastward from Eastern State Penitentiary and along Ridge Avenue, and Eric Blumenfeld is securing funding for the rebirth of the Divine Miss L.

But the city is also excited about the potential rebirth of Philadelphia's once great, now forgotten corridor. Councilman Darrell Clarke is working with developers to create a non-profit organization to assist with its redevelopment, including tax abatements and loans to incentivize growth.

Divine Intervention

The Divine Lorraine will soon see the $30M that Eric Blumenfield needs to begin renovations at the beleaguered North Broad Street icon. And no, it's not art studios brought to you by Change.org. It's actually a story of fate, a passion for architecture, and a unique take on investment rarely seen amongst lenders who typically wear blinders around the bottom line. As our city's favorite Lady in Wait, she couldn't have asked for a more fitting salvation.

Billy Procida is an investor from New Jersey who's spent the last two decades turning New York City into what it is today, a city where Harlem is synonymous with Manhattan and not a universal label for any bad neighborhood. But Procida now has his eyes on Philadelphia, not only a city he's come to prefer, but one he sees as New York at half the price. He didn't just see numbers when he saw the Divine Lorraine, he saw a building with which he wants to be personally involved.

Procida Funding & Advisors will be lending Blumenfield's firm the $31.5M it needs to begin development. While Blumenfield will be seeking an additional $5 from the state, no grant is needed to complete the project, meaning this could be a completely privately funded endeavor.

Divine Lorraine Will be Residential

Philly.com

Change.org petitions have become the white noise of armchair activists, so it's no surprise that Eric Blumenfeld was taken back when Philly.com asked him about Caryn Kunkle's online petition to convert his Divine Lorraine into a modern art space. 

In fact what he sayed was, "I'm shocked this is news." What might be more shocking is that Eric Blumenfeld was even aware of the petition. But Blumenfeld wasn't just familiar with the petition, but Kunkle herself. He offered her space inside the former Metropolitan Opera House, another landmark he's redeveloping. She declined, opting instead to seek twelve stories of free space in a government seized Divine Lorraine.

Her knowledge of economics may be as dim as her understanding of property law, suggesting on her petition, "Rather than condos which will be impossible to make profit from due to the crippling costs of repair..." 

Using profit as part of the argument is irrelevant. It's obvious Kunkle sees the space as a non-profit, perhaps even government owned public space. However, even if the city did take the petition seriously, Philly.com pointed out she has no business model.

She also ignored the fact, or was perhaps unaware, that Blumenfeld plans to start renovations at the Divine Lorraine this year in conjunction with other North Broad improvements that include restoring the Metropolitan Opera House.

Rather than condos which will be impossible to make profit from due to the crippling costs of repairing
Read more at http://www.philly.com/philly/blogs/home_and_design/Despite-petition-to-turn-into-musuem-Divine-Lorraine-will-go-on-as-originally-planned.html#lFCTgAPzdV28sJCT.9

Rather than condos which will be impossible to make profit from due to the crippling costs of repairing
Read more at http://www.philly.com/philly/blogs/home_and_design/Despite-petition-to-turn-into-musuem-Divine-Lorraine-will-go-on-as-originally-planned.html#lFCTgAPzdV28sJCT.99

Rather than condos which will be impossible to make profit from due to the crippling costs of repairing
Read more at http://www.philly.com/philly/blogs/home_and_design/Despite-petition-to-turn-into-musuem-Divine-Lorraine-will-go-on-as-originally-planned.html#lFCTgAPzdV28sJCT.99

Rather than condos which will be impossible to make profit from due to the crippling costs of repairing
Read more at http://www.philly.com/philly/blogs/home_and_design/Despite-petition-to-turn-into-musuem-Divine-Lorraine-will-go-on-as-originally-planned.html#lFCTgAPzdV28sJCT.99

Armchair Activists Take on the Divine Lorraine

Caryn Kunkle took to Change.org with a dramatic proposal to reclaim the forlorn Divine Lorraine Hotel and transform it into a Contemporary Art Museum. While she makes a valid case for the need to save the landmark historic site, Change.org allows armchair activists to blow off steam without an ounce of fact checking. I strongly doubt her claim that Philadelphia makes "more money from the arts than sports, medicine or retail." I'm not sure how she qualifies "the arts," but considering the four professional sports teams within the city limits, plus university athletics, or GSK alone, banking on the arts as Philadelphia's winning income is a stretch.

Don't get me wrong, I sympathize with a lack of investment in the arts, and I have since watching my high school water color paints take a backseat to Turner Ashby football.

Curbed Philly

The problem with these online petitions, particularly when applied to something local, asking for something niche, is they offer false hope to a few motivated individuals instead of practical solutions to real problems. They're a distraction, and developers sitting on property love it.

What has happened to the Divine Miss L. is a tragedy, one that should be illegal. But it's not. Even if Change.org succeeded in driving the city to execute imminent domain over the Divine Lorraine, as Kunkle suggests, it would find itself in a costly lawsuit with a very wealthy developer, one who likely has more disposable income than the city itself. Using online petitions to gather signatures only gathers signatures from the laziest of the lazy.

That's not to say grassroots campaigns can't be used to crowd source efforts to save sites like the Divine Lorraine, but grassroots campaigns don't end at the laptop. If you want to use the internet to do something realistic on behalf of this decomposing relic, gather volunteers and cash to board up the building and save it from the elements before L&I orders Blumenfeld to demolish it.

Hanover North Broad

With speculations around Girard Square, Kmart's planned closure at the Gallery at Market East, and the proposed Market8 Casino at the Disney Hole, it's hard to forget that Market East isn't the only aging city planning disaster to plague a major Center City thoroughfare.

Lined with parking lots, North Broad Street hosts the scars of massive midcentury demolition and looks a lot like Detroit's Woodward Avenue.

The Parkway Corporation owns the two major parking lots at Broad and Callowhill. With the Hanover Design Collective, Parkway plans to develop the lots with Hanover North Broad, a large mix-use project.

Initial renderings show a sensibly scaled design that looks a lot like University City's Domus and will go before the City Planning Commission. As it is, it won't bring a lot of architectural drama to North Broad Street, although its practicality will probably help it breeze through the approval process.

The success of Tower Place and the proposed conversion of the Inquirer Building, along with the emerging Callowhill/Loft District/Eraserhood neighborhood, North Broad and dare I say North Philadelphia, may soon be part of a whole new city. Now if someone would take on North Broad's most tragic lady in wait, the divine Divine Lorraine.

City says Divine Lorraine will not be demolished

A "Repair or Demolish" notification posted by L&I delivered a second punch to preservationists following a fire at the Divine Lorraine, abandoned by investors.


Fear not. Deputy Mayor Alan Greenberger stated that the notification was a necessary measure allowing the city to enter the building and intervene.


A bill for all repairs made by the city will be sent to the building's owners, Michael Treacy, Jr. and a Dutch group, on top of the $700,000 in back taxes they currently owe.


Meanwhile the city is working with the New York bank that holds the mortgage to find a new owner ready and willing to develop the property.

Divine Mess

Mayor Nutter has been discussing the renovation of the Divine Lorraine on North Broad Street with Daryl Clark. Unfortunately, in the hotel's long bizarre history, none has been more detrimental to the architectural and cultural landmark as its last ten years.
After a Dutch developer gutted the habitable structure preparing it for luxury condos, the economy tanked. Instead of converting it into affordable apartments, a simple task after it was sold by the International Peace Movement Mission, the Dutch company ripped it apart with vague plans, and ultimately wound up in a battle with the district's Councilman, Daryl Clark over the topic of affordable housing.

Nutter said nothing of the financial situation surrounding the property that is now little more than a shell other than "it's complicated." He failed to address the owner's current property tax situation or whether the city would consider putting a lien on the property. As it stands, the property owner seems content to let it sit vacant until the city intervenes.

Clarke is doubtful that anything can be done to the property without funding from the city or state. Considering the current condition of the building, he's absolutely correct. What Clarke doesn't mention is that he directly created the current situation by crushing the developer's plan to convert the Divine Lorraine into condos, after the building had already been gutted.

As it stands, it looks like the best hope for the landmark would be subsidized housing or assisted living. It's true that something is better than nothing when it comes to such an astonishing building so close to demise, however if history shows us anything, if this becomes city operated property there is little hope that it will ever meet its full potential.