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.

Divine Intervention

While Philadelphia is synonomous with Independence Hall and the Betsy Ross House, to many Philadelphians, the Divine Lorraine is perhaps our most iconic representation of what defines Philadelphia. It's macabre arches and balconies are representative of our eclectic architectural portfolio. Its mysterious history could not be a more perfect metaphor for Philadelphia's post-Colonial past. And unfortunately, its neglected state is harshly representative of City Hall's patented bureaucracy and neglect.






Ten years ago this building stood perfectly preserved. Even after being abandoned by the Peace Mission, it was home to a lone caretaker, its upper levels empty yet respected. In a city covered in graffiti and broken windows, a silent respect left this neighborhood landmark completely untouched.






Today it still sits vacant, but after a developer ripped out its soul and walked away, he took with him a sole source of pride for a struggling neighborhood and city. Concrete blocks seal the ground floor. Upper floors remain completely devoid of windows, open to the elements. Like a desanctified church, God is gone and the vandals have moved in.

With only muddy prospects in its future, the Divine Lorraine stands as a painful reminder of mismanagement and a lack of respect on the part of City Councilmembers against those they are elected to service.

The sad truth is that those representing Philadelphia have an absent connection with Philadelphians and what it means to be one. This is evident in the fact that they - one in particular - have done nothing to save a building as analogous with Philadelphia as the Liberty Bell.

One thing I have always loved about this city is our citizens' interest in our own history. New Yorkers and Washingtonians rarely know little if anything about their architectural, commercial, and industrial pasts. But in Philadelphia, you not only find people who know of buildings like the Divine Lorraine, but they will tell who built it, when it was built, and how it was used.

Our proud history has taught even the youngest and most civilian of history buffs where Broad Street Station stood, where the Chinese Wall ran, and what Dock Street once looked like. Why aren't those who love Philadelphia for its gritty corners and speckled past running this town? And why are we allowing the institution that behaves as though they despise our beloved city to run it into the ground?

Divine Remains

Main Line Today did an article on the International Peace Movement Mission, the mysterious cult operated by Mother Divine out of Gladwyne, PA. It is a lengthy, two part read but well worth it. Much has been documented about the life of Father Divine and the followers who continue to worship him as God, but this outward speaking article gives new insight into the inner workings of the sect and the few who remain loyal to this day, and begs the question: What happens to the wealth when a cult dies?

In addition to the mind bogglingly bizarre truth of this story - that for no other reason than that it's honest strangeness stands well enough on its own, hasn't been made into a movie - the fate of historic Woodmont may be in question, prompting some to warn of another La Ronda disaster.

"Swept up in all this uncertainty is the fate of Woodmont. Its 1998 National Historic Landmark designation amounts to little unless the Peace Mission followers named on the active deed allow Lower Merion Township to list the old Alan Wood Jr. mansion as a Class I building. Otherwise, it can be sold and subdivided—or demolished. There’s fear that increased preservation pressure will put followers on the defensive, perhaps even prompting a scenario along the lines of the controversial destruction of the La Ronda mansion in Bryn Mawr. And other than a philosophical agreement, no conservation easement has been signed to protect the grounds, says Mike Weilbacher, former executive director of the Lower Merion Conservancy."

Part I
Part II