Making a Classic Modern

The Philadelphia Museum of Art has finally released Frank Gehry's master plan for renovations to the world renowned art museum. In "Making a Classic Modern," the PMA displays Frank Gehry's indoor renovations gracefully complementing the catacombs formerly unseen by guests while downplaying what Gehry intends to do with perhaps the museum's most visited, free attraction: the steps.

Ironically Gehry, an architect known for bending metal like Magneto, hasn't executed his signature style on his exterior elements at the PMA. Instead, perhaps in an effort to respect the reverence of the building, dumbs his exterior renovations down to a picture window wedged in one sixth of the Great Steps.

Of course modern is relative, particularly in terms of an architect who's been practicing his craft since 1962. His most iconic works, the Walt Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles and the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, Spain, were designed in the late 90s, both completed more than ten years ago. 

Gehry's relevance as a modernist is only in the sense that he's still building. What we're left with is a Starchitect recognizable in name only, one who has chosen to reinvent his unique, metallic curvatures with a sunken picture window desecrating one of Philadelphia's most visited attractions. 

If the PMA were less concerned with pomp and more concerned with preserving its place in history, we might see what a truly modern firm could do with this space. After all, history will remember what it looks like, not an architect's status in 2014.

Strategically, no rendering of what this will look like from Eakins Oval is available. 

When I. M. Pei completed his Pyramid at the Louvre in 1989 it was not without contention. Many still revile the structure as a scar upon Paris. While the large plaza facing the Louve shares some of the architectural elements as the vast steps facing the Philadelphia Museum of Art - namely, the humbling nature of vast and subtle architectural intentions - the steps of the PMA add a humbling journey one must embark upon before reaching greatness.

It is truly Philadelphia's Acropolis.

"Making a Classic Modern" is not just irrelevant, it's irresponsible. The cohesive collection of architecture that makes up the Philadelphia Museum of Art is about as astounding and godly as one can get. Deliberate or not, Horace Trumbauer and other architects created one of the most spiritual places on earth.

After the daunting task of tacking the steps, an optical illusion created by the width and curvature of each individual step, visitors are cleared of mind, body, and spirit, cleansed of the world they left behind at Eakins Oval to truly embrace the collections they are about to experience.

Afterwards, they can explore the nature that awaits them along the Shuylkill River, the eclectic architecture comprised within the Waterworks, Boathouse Row, and the winding trails leading them through the rocks on which our Parthenon sits, contemplating the spiritual and artistic journey they just took.

Inadvertent as this collection of architecture may be, what we have is rare. If Gehry intends to alter that experience in any way, he needs to compliment that journey.

The Great Steps are where our journey begins. This is where we embark on our quest for solitude and spirituality through art. For the same reason that Central Park was never developed, the Great Steps to the Philadelphia Museum of Art are a place for contemplation, not clutter. 

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Don't Mess With the Rocky Steps

When modern meets historic, I'm typically a fan. I. M. Pei's pyramid in front of the Louvre is astounding. But you know what's just as astounding? The giant staircase leading to the Philadelphia Museum of Art. And I'm not speaking from the standpoint of Rocky nostalgia. The wide, tall staircase that imposes itself in front of Philadelphia's grand Parthenon of art was a deliberate architectural element, one meant to be as dramatic as the edifice itself.

From City Hall, the Philadelphia Museum of Art stands atop the site of the city's old reservoir like a temple to the gods, but the truly humbling experience begins at the foot of her steps on Eakins Oval. It really isn't that tall and climbing the stairs isn't a feat reserved for the most physically fit. It's an optical illusion, one designed specifically to convince visitors that they have reached greatness at its summit, reflecting similar design elements at the Parthenon itself.

Frank Gehry has been working with the PMA to complete the world renowned museum nearly a century later, adding modern art space beneath its great steps. Frank Gehry has his fans and foes, but unlike I. M. Pei who indulged in modernism when it was unpopular, Gehry was one of the world's first Starchitects. For a city to have a building, even a space, designed by Gehry is a status symbol. But like leasing a Mercedes you can't afford, status symbols and the products of Starchitects are occasionally relevant in name only.

I think it's great that Gehry is designing the modern art space for the PMA, but that's because Gehry's best work is indoors. Outside, at best, his buildings echo a ball of foil, which would have been unique if he'd done it once. But he's done it over and over again because more and more cities demanded a Gehry.

But his exterior plans for the Philadelphia Museum of Art display a man falling flat on his face when it comes to integrating history.

He plans to carve Philadelphia's Great Steps in half at the second tier, opening them to a flat entrance to the new museum of modern art. In what is likely an attempt to respect the history of the building, the entrance is dull and unadorned. But considering the significance of these steps both architecturally and popularly, subtlety is the last thing a redesign warrants.

This could never happen again.

If Philadelphia is going to allow 1/6 of this iconic landmark to be obliterated, give us the pyramid at the Louvre. Give us something even more exciting than the steps we have.

Or better yet, give us nothing at all. These steps should be preserved: historically, architecturally, and culturally. Perhaps the fault lies in hiring a Starchitect to redesign a building true to a city. As a Philadelphian, Horace Trumbauer understood what the Philadelphia Museum of Art meant to Philadelphia. Frank Gehry clearly does not.

Bloomfield to be Restored

While other Gilded Age mansions fight uphill battles towards preservation, two home owners plan to restore one many thought was lost.

Renovated by Horace Trumbauer with grounds designed by the Olmstead Brothers, Bloomfield in Villanova was destroyed by a fire in 2012.

After a year of Philadelphian litigiousness aimed at the property's residents, Julie Charbonneau and Dean Topolinski, finally ended, they have decided to restore Bloomfield.

With an $11M settlement, Charbonneau and Topolinski could have easily walked away from the tragedy, razed the ruins, and subdivided the desirable address.

However Charbonneau, native to Montreal, fell in love with Bloomfield the moment she saw it, never expecting to find a house this, well, French in America.

Her love for her Bloomfield has weathered the devastating fire, leading her to the Historical Society of Pennsylvania where she unearthed Trunbauer's orginal drawings of her house, allowing her to restore every detail of the original mansion using as much that remains as possible.

She's even employed D. Robert “Bob” Farrow, grandson on the man who built the house, as one of the carpenters working on the restoration. Farrow is even trying to locate the original plans for the house.

With carpenters enduring arduous tasks that haven't been employed since the 1920s, Charbonneau's ambition stands to challenge the region's notion of disrepair.

What's more, while the region's wealthy residents tear down perfectly livable landmarks like La Ronda to build their own Xanadu, Charbonneau's respect for the history challenges the American notion that land owners have the right to eradicate history just because they sit on a boat load of cash.

Neglected Obligations in Cheltenham Township

Chelnetham Township's commissioner, Harvey Portner has said little about the forlorn Lynnewood Hall, at least nothing more than "it can be and should be developed into something magnificent." It's hard to know exactly what he means, and speculating isn't fun.

The township has been firm. Unless Richard Yoon's petition to the Supreme Court makes waves in Cheltenham, the owner of The First Korean Church will not be able to operate the property as a tax exempt church or school.

Currently Yoon pays over $130,000 in taxes yearly, and he'll likely unload the property if its tax status doesn't change.

Cheltenham is a nice enough suburb, but it isn't as renowned and cash flushed as other areas. Portner has a job to do, and losing $130,000 every year isn't part of it. In that regard, Portner's stance may seem reasonable.

It's a shame, because Lynnewood Hall is one of the regions most spectacular examples of Gilded Age architecture. Designed by Philadelphia's own architect to the stars, Horace Trumbauer, Lynnewood is the ninth largest historic home in the United States, 5000 square feet larger than Newport, RI's Breakers.

We learned our lesson when Whitemarsh Hall was demolished in the 1980s, the third largest historic house in the United States. When La Ronda was demolished a few years ago, preservationists and historians across the country were devastated, yet Addison Mizner's Spanish style masterpiece pales in comparison to Lynnewood Hall.

Enough locals don't realize what's at stake here. Landmarks like Biltmore Estate are household names, even for those with no interest in architecture or history. I know I don't need to say this to anyone reading an architecture blog, but that's what Lynnewood is.

It's City Hall. It's the Philadelphia Museum of Art. It's Philadelphia's foremost example of  Gilded Age architecture, perhaps even the Northeast's.

If Portner wants something "magnificent," he already has it.

Beyond the rusted gates of Lynnewood Hall, Cheltenham has something even more magnificent, something no other region in the country can claim.

Lynnewood Hall is not alone. As stately as the manor is in itself and its grounds, it's simply one part of a complex of architecture history unrivaled in the United States, all of which lie dormant.

Across the street from Lynnewood Hall is not one Gilded Age mansion, but three.

Elstowe Manor, the seventeenth largest historic house in the United States was abandoned in June of this year. Known as the Elkins Estate, the grounds are comprised of Elstowe Manor and Chelten House. Additionally, Georgian Terrace was abandoned by Temple's Stella Elkins Tyler School of Art a few years ago, also empty.

Fortunately none of these properties have succumbed to the death of architectural hope otherwise known as tax delinquency, but with the Elkins Estate taxed at more than $300,000 a year, it's even less likely that the township will grant any of these properties the exemption they need to survive much longer.

As if the architectural significance of these properties isn't enough, their history is unparalleled. All built for the Widener and Elkins families, these estates once carved out a private enclave for the tycoons that built the Philadelphia we know today. It's inarguable that their contribution to the region, even the nation, deserves the dignity of salvation.

When you consider this site's significance and the unique fact that this compound remains intact, Portner's position goes beyond the scope of his local responsibility, but also taps an obligation to the nation. While this land could stand to profit from townhomes and condos, this is one of those rare occasions when money doesn't matter.

What's most disconcerting is Portner's absent resolve for a specific outcome. This leaves the preservation community and the region in the dark. These properties are more than simple homes and the township has an obligation to responsibly address these assets as the benefits to the community that they are.

Without the township fielding investors, it leaves the job up to preservationists and realtors. But without a statement from the commissioner other than it should be "something magnificent," those concerned about the fate of these mansions can do little.

Can it be a school? Can it be converted into condos? Can it be a museum?

No one knows.

Without an interest from those in charge, realtors and property owners are saddled with finding buyers willing to use the properties as they were zoned. In the case of Lynnewood Hall, that's as a private home, which at 70,000 square feet, is a tough sell in Cheltenham Township. 

Cryptic comments from those presiding over the nation's most significant chunk of unused real estate call their motives into question. Sadly, the most realistic possibility is one that happens all too often.

Could Harvey Portner simply be awaiting the inevitable, wherein property owners unable to sell simply abandon their tax obligations, allowing the mansions to be seized by the township and sold for scrap?

Steal of the Month

Think a penthouse apartment with a rooftop garden has to cost a lot? If you're content with simple amenities and plain gray carpet, it doesn't have to break the bank.

The Adelphia House, designed by Horace Trumbauer as the Adelphia Hotel, is home to a one bedroom, one bathroom penthouse with its very own private terrace for just $1370 a month.

With some paint and a little imagination, this brightly lit apartment with original woodwork, loads of windows, and unique views, would make a great home.

The Adelphia House is currently listing several large apartments with outdoor space that drastically undercut similar rentals in the area.

$1595
$1295

1200 Bank

DAS Architects is designing the proposed billiard hall in the vacant Beneficial Bank building at 12th and Chestnut, designed by Horace Trumbauer. Despite preliminary complaints about a possible rooftop dining feature from neighbors who are less vocal about the colony of bums (who are, by the way, the most angry bums in the entire city) that have taken up residence on the building's porch, a canopied roof remains a part of the plans.

Surprisingly the interior of the bank - empty for over a decade - appears to be in great condition. 1200 Bank will be a welcome addition to Chestnut Street, where improvements are inching outward from Broad Street. Not only did the Historical Commission unanimously approve the plan, but the idea is so popular it already has its own facebook page.

20th Century Fox and Philadelphia

A movie chain's early ties to the City of Cinematic Love

Contributed by Mike Gaines

When people think of 20th Century Fox Studios, or simply Fox, the first things that usually come to mind are Rupert Murdoch and News Corp. The company and its founder, however, have a much more colorful history than people actually realize and has very strong ties to Philadelphia’s illustrious theatrical past.

In 1917, William Fox, a Hungarian immigrant, founded the Fox Film Corporation when he merged two separate companies he had established four years prior – the Greater New York Film Rental and Fox (or Box) Office Attractions Company, the former a distribution company and the latter a production company. By consolidating these two entities, Fox was able to control his growing theater chain with greater efficiency.

Pictures were secondary to a man who has always been considered more of an entrepreneur than entertainer and his focus was on acquiring and building theaters as opposed to producing the attractions. His theaters were known for their opulence, grandeur, and seating capacities at well over 1,000 per theater.

In 1927 Fox saw a prime opportunity to expand his cinematic empire through the acquisition of Metro Goldwyn Mayer, one of his biggest rivals. That year the head of MGM, Marcus Loew passed away and within two years Fox had acquired the Loew family’s shares of MGM. Unfortunately for Fox, this outraged the studio bosses of MGM, Louis B. Mayer and Irving Thalberg, since they were not shareholders and left out of any profits from the merger.

Using his political connections, Mayer urged the Department of Justice to investigate Fox for violating antitrust laws, which tied up the merger for the next several years. A combination of the stock market crash of 1929 and recovering from serious injuries in a car accident wiped out Fox’s financial holdings so severely that even if the Department of Justice had given its eventual blessing to the merger it could not go forth.

The following year Fox lost control of his company and theaters during a hostile takeover, which combined with his other ails, forced him into a six year long battle to stave off bankruptcy. In 1935, the Fox Film Corporation merged with 20th Century Productions, only two years old at the time, to form the Twentieth Century-Fox Film Corporation. A year later, Fox was sentenced to six months in prison for attempting to bribe a judge at his bankruptcy hearing. Upon his release, Fox retired from the film business and into seclusion. He died at the age of 73 in 1952, so forgotten that not one single Hollywood producer attended his funeral.

Two examples of Fox’s theatrical opulence existed in Philadelphia, the first thirty years gone and the second still somewhat extant.

The Original Fox Theatre

In January 1922, a permit was issued to the Fox Film Corporation allowing them to build a brand new theater on the southwest corner of Sixteenth and Market Streets at a reported cost of $1.1 million.

The 17-story, steel frame, fireproof building was designed by Thomas W. Lamb, who had already designed six similar theaters in other cities including Atlanta, Brooklyn, and Detroit. The theater's seating capacity topped out at 2,423 seats and featured 15 varieties of imported Italian marble throughout. The box office was hexagonal in shape with a marble base that supported handmade bronze pillars and topped by a brass dome.

Fox Theatre Building seen from City Hall on West Market Street in 1926. The Arcade Building with its bridge to Broad Street Station, and the Harrison Building can be seen in the foreground outside City Hall.

In addition to motion pictures, the Fox had a Grand Orchestra which featured staff-produced shows that were aired twice weekly from its in-house radio broadcasting facilities.

In 1931 a proposal to sell the Fox theaters to Paramount fell through since not one of its theaters were profitable, save for the original at Sixteenth and Market. The following year, Alexander Boyd took over control of the theater, as well as the theater on Locust Street, after having sold his namesake theater on Chestnut Street, and continued to operate them until 1936 when Stanley Warner took control.

As cinematic technologies advanced, so did alterations to the theaters. In 1939 all stage shows ceased production, and when Cinemascope films were introduced in 1950, the staff is said to have taken the original organ console out to the back alley and burned it.

What had been the stage space was carved into a second, smaller theater called the Stage Door Theatre, fronting on Sixteenth Street. With the Fox chain now focused solely on motion pictures, it became home to several world premiers including Knute Rockne All American (1940), Centennial Summer (1946), and The Street with No Name (1948).

In 1959 the Milgrim Theatre chain leased the Fox Theatre and purchased it two years later, making the movie house at Sixteenth and Market their flagship theater. To maintain a reputation of excellence, as well as patronage from the Main Line ladies who frequented the theater, meticulous care was taken with the space.

In addition to boasting the best projection and sound capabilities available, supervisors checked every movie lens with white gloves daily to make sure they were clean and changing rooms were even installed in the basement for ushers. Before long, the Fox Building became Philadelphia’s movie exhibition headquarters where it housed local offices for every movie chain in the country, complete with a screening room on the 17th floor.

In March of 1980, the Fox Theatre finally closed after its final movie, Star Trek: The Motion Picture finished its run. Milgrim claimed that it would cost over $1 million to restore and repair the plaster in the auditorium, most of which had long since been draped over, though a preservation committee, the Committee to Save the Fox, objected to these findings and began protesting its demolition.

One proposal for the site included building a new office building around and above the Fox, but in the end its owner won and the building, along with the rest of the block, was ultimately demolished to make room for a new office building which stands on this site today as home to PNC Bank.

After its demolition, some of the 87,000 tons of Italian marble were sold off, including the marble balcony railing which is now used as the communion railing at Holy Cross Catholic Church in Springfield, Pennsylvania. The Shubert Foundation bought many of the seats, chandeliers were sent to Columbus, Ohio for a theater restoration project, and the ticket book was sent to Los Angeles, California.

The Fox-Locust Theatre

The second Fox theater in Philadelphia opened in 1927 as a part of the Equitable Trust Building at 1401 Locust Street, on the northwest corner of South Broad and Locust Streets, with a seating capacity of 1,580 (Orchestra 1053, Loge 375, Balcony 152).

Designed by renowned architect Horace Trumbauer, the building was built as the Philadelphia headquarters for the Equitable Trust Company of New York. The building’s design was influenced by one of Trumbauer’s most recent projects, the Chateau Crillon Apartment House on nearby Rittenhouse Square.

Equitable Trust Company and Chateau Crillon designed by Horace Trumbauer

An organ chamber was designed for the theater, though no organ was ever installed, as well as an orchestra pit capable of holding up to 65 musicians. Unfortunately this location was outside of what was then known as the Theatre District along Market and Chestnut Streets and closed sometime after 1929 due to dwindling business.

It reopened in October of 1931 as the Locust Street Theatre, operated by Alexander Boyd. In 1958 new management took over and renamed it the New Locust Theatre, and installed new chandeliers from the recently demolished Mastbaum Theatre in the lobby, foyer, and under the mezzanine.

The theater's final show was Rocky Horror Picture Show in 1980. Despite objections from the preservation community, a majority of the auditorium was demolished to make room for a parking garage while the remaining space was converted into a restaurant.

Philadelphia Story

La Ronda has been torn down but what about Ardrossan - inspiration for the 1940 classic Philadelphia Story starring Katharine Hepburn and James Stewart? Nothing more than speculation has been discussed since it went on the market. The Villanova mansion was designed by the famed Horace Trumbauer, but regardless of its history it seems to get less attention than some of his less influential and reverred homes.

Location vs Location

Proof that a trendy website and a "finance-anyone" real estate craze can sell anything, the Arts Condo (formerly Arts Tower Apartments), which occupies the Sylvania Hotel designed by Leroy B. Rothschild and completed in 1922 at Locust and Juniper, has managed to schlep 300 square foot studios for $199,000 a pop. Now occupying the pages of Craigslist with ads spouting the cliche "location, location, location", these micro-apartments are appointed with luxury amenities such as "stainless steel appliances" and "granite counter tops". Seriously? Are you kidding me? The "appliances" - if you can honestly pluralize that word - include a mini-fridge/hotplate/sink combo, all in one room smaller than your first dorm room. Rented at roughly $950-$1000 a month, if location is your only concern (and if you are considering renting at the Arts Condo, it is), check out Philadelphia Management Company's Adelphia House at 13th and Chestnut. It might not have the same "stainless steel appliances" or a one foot wide slab of granite wedged between the kitchen sink and your bathroom, but at the former Adelphia Hotel designed by renouned architect Horace Trumbauer (Philadelphia Museum of Art and the Free Library), you will get a grand lobby, 24-hour security, and compared to the average studio in the Arts Condo, about twice the space for about $100 less. Opt for a smaller studio and spend as little as $600 a month for this "location, location, location".

Lessons Not Learned

Completed in 1921 by renowned architect Horace Trumbauer (Philadelphia Museum of Art, Free Library of Philadelphia), Whitemarsh Hall in Wyndmoor was razed in 1980 to make way for Stotesbury Estates, a suburban townhouse community.
More recently, T. P. Chandler's 1897 Dunminning Mansion in Newtown Square was sold to Bentley Homes and razed for development in 2007. Chandler founded the University of Pennsylvania's Department of Architecture.
Lynnewood Hall, another Trumbauer masterpiece designed for Peter A. B. Widener, sits vacant in Elkins Park. Owned by the First Korean Church of New York, the Cheltenham Township Planning Commission has twice denied the church use of the building as a residence, an example of elected officials legislating on behalf of predatory developers and encouraging suburban sprawl.