Live! Hotel and Casino

It's been a long and contentious road, but the final decision has been made for Philadelphia's second casino. Whether you like gaming or not, if Philadelphia needs another one, the right location was chosen.

As opposed to Center City locations, Live! Hotel and Casino has always been a no brainer. 

The location has always been a no brainer...for all of Philadelphia's casinos. 

But because of state rules that prohibit pairing up competing casinos, each has to be a specific distance from another. In a way it makes sense. If casinos were allowed to compete for a location, Pennsylvania could end up with an Atlantic City without a beach. But the lack of competition also keeps each casino dumbed down to the lowest common denominator.

Nonetheless, the Stadium District is already a growing entertainment zone. Detached from residents and surrounded by freeways and parking lots, the area is free to offer bars, concert venues, and now a casino without annoying any neighbors. 

Whether or not Live!'s hotel materializes, like the component that seems to have been abandoned by SugarHouse, the casino will benefit from adjacent activity. While SugarHouse neither complements nor caters to its neighborhood, in fact it does just the opposite, Live! will be a marketable asset to Philadelphia's burgeoning party strip. 

Market8 Casino

Three state officials have endorsed Market8 as the city's next casino. Michael O'Brien, John Taylor, and Mark Squilla considered several presentations and decided that Market8's Market East location presented the best economic possibilities.

Indeed Market8's Center City address could impact the surrounding area, and if it's done well, could impact it positively. Certainly compared to isolated proposals similar to SugarHouse and Harrah's, Market8 has the opportunity to integrate into the fabric of the city. Even with SugarHouse's forgotten hotel tower promises, it was always an island venue with poor walkability. It benefits the city in the tax it generates for the state, and nothing more.

Unfortunately this is what the casino opposition wanted when they finally ceded its inevitability, a flashy suburban center as easily ignored as a thoughtless strip mall. But we shouldn't discount the opposition camp completely. Though they seem to have lost some steam in the last few years, what SugarHouse has become and how it continues to evolve, proves some of the opposition's arguments against casinos and shows us where the potential ills in the Market8 proposal lie.

It's easy to look at bland proposals for "another SugarHouse," even Xfinity's Sports Complex proposed casino, then turn to Market8 and see something flashy in a worn part of town, a neighborhood that needs this shot of adrenaline. But things too good to be true are too easy to see.

Remove Market8's exciting hotel tower and it's SugarHouse without a parking lot. If we've learned anything in Philadelphia, not just from casinos, it's that phased development is a developer's route to a permit. Once Market8 gets the green light, there is little stopping its team from offering us the lowest common denominator.

What's worse than an empty Gallery at Market East? A windowless gaming parlor across the street? It could be. Parx, SugarHouse, and Harrah's, their crowds caravan to the regions of nothingness to gamble and nothing more. If Market8 finagles its way out of the hotel component, isolated gaming will be squatting on valuable real estate. Of course it's hard to view the Disney Hole as a valuable chunk of land, but in five years we could be cursing ourselves for allowing it to happen, complaining that Market8's unsightly slot barn is just another Gallery.

It may be an obstacle difficult to overcome. The state's relationship with casinos is anything but dynamic, which is how they land in barren wastelands and suburbia. Oddly this is one thing Detroit has managed to do right, at least relatively. MGM Grand and Greektown Casino both house large hotel towers, and Greektown Casino stands integrated in one of the struggling city's most thriving neighborhoods.

Unless our state gaming commission has an epiphany and considers a casino license a means to offer more than gambling, much more, any casino in the state stands to be exactly the same no matter where it's dropped.

SugarHouse Expansion: More of the Same

SugarHouse Casino's most recent expansion proposal aims the site at the Delaware River. While private investment in Philadelphia beleaguered working river is a good thing, the lackluster expansion that once promised the city an exciting high rise gives advocates both for and against our city's casinos reason to pause.

The $155M expansion will include more event space and dining options, but the only thing challenging the Delaware River skyline will be a new seven story parking garage. The gaming floor will also be increased by 27,000 square feet. Let's be honest, this is where the money is.



Philly.com

In addition to improvements to the existing space, SugarHouse will be widening the streets surrounding the property to ease traffic congestion. Unfortunately this will make a project that once claimed to be a friendly neighbor feel more like an isolated strip mall than it already does.

While the DWRC has finally put some realistic plans in place for rejoining Center City with Penn's Landing, SugarHouse is further separating the Northern Delaware from any life but its own.

Where are the improvements that benefit its neighbors? Instead of spending $12M to accommodate more traffic, build smart and invest in improvements that get gamblers to the casino without traffic.

It's unfortunate enough that SugarHouse's site has abandoned any attempt to integrate itself into the fabric of the city, but sadly the beast is now eating away at the surrounding property with wider roads. The seven story parking garage appears to replace the large surface lot north of the casino but the asphalt prairie to the south will likely remain.

While SugarHouse and the city itself seem hell bent on ignoring the mistakes of the 70s by allowing this suburbanized plan to sprawl, hopefully we'll look twice at the dazzling proposals for Provence and Market8. When a plan calls for a "phased development," can it be trusted, or is it just a developer's cheap trick and an easy way to obtain permits?

Market8 and a Tub of Lego Blocks

When I first saw the new rendering for the Market8 Casino, I have to admit, I was a little excited. Giddy, even. We don't see a lot of proposals for new high rises in the city, particularly ones that deviate from a simple glass cube.

Market8 certainly does that.

Still, as Philebrity rightly pointed out, this casino won't happen. If we get another casino, we'll likely wind up with The Provenance or Wynn, the former being more exciting and, at the Inquirer Building, most central.

Market8 spokeswoman Maureen Garrity and lead developer Ken Goldenberg excitedly talk about engaging the site with the sidewalks, providing restaurants and retail space at street level with the casino upstairs.

That's a noble gesture and one that respects its location. In fact, in that regard, were we to actually see Market8 on Market East, it might just be the most respectful casino in any major city that doesn't exclusively cater to gambling.

Of course some of the more dangerous threats from Center City casinos come with their routinely phased development. Market8 might be pitching its casino with a high rise, but if this were to play out like SugarHouse we'd be left with a lackluster stump that looks a lot like a suburban movie theater.

Then there's parking. Market8 has clearly provided a parking garage in its design, and it appears that the surface lot on 8th and Chestnut is still available in the rendering. But SugarHouse provides a similar configuration, plus acres of surface parking lots sometimes full.

It won't take long for predatory land hoarders to recognize a demand for supplemental parking and begin buying up and demolishing adjacent buildings. Keep in mind, historic Jewelers Row is a block away. 

Market8 can't be blamed for this, particularly when the Pennsylvania Convention Center was allowed to move forward with no designated parking. But until the city sets a moratorium on private parking or raises the taxes on these lots, any casino in a depressed zone like Market East or North Broad unintentionally threatens the surrounding architecture.

Beyond the possibility that Market8 could replace the Disney Hole for an even larger Casino Hole, there's the redesign itself. Market8's previous rendering called for a low profile building running horizontally between 8th and 9th. It was sleek and modern, but also subtle and sophisticated. Of all the proposed casino designs in Philadelphia, it was the most applauded, even by some in the casino opposition camp. But for some reason, Market8's design team decided to throw out their webbed facade for something entirely different.

Maureen Garrity and Ken Goldenberg pitched the latest incarnation as a nod to the corridor's historic infrastructure, siting it a modernist interpretation of Wanamaker's or Gimbel's, essentially suggesting the more traditional approach is what we'd expect to see if Market East were the thriving commercial it should be.

I see what they're getting at. Market8's geometric shapes and ABC color palette reference recent proposals for a revived Girard Trust Block and renovations for The Galley at Market East. 

Previous Proposal for Market8

It's unfortunate because the previous design was a nice start. Even if Market8 faces an uphill battle, one it will likely lose, exciting proposals are exciting nevertheless. Instead of building on the prior concept, Market8 decided to play with a tub of Lego Blocks and gave us a collage of recycled postmodernism. 

Waterfront Square is Back On

With David Grasso assuming control of Waterfront Square, it looks like the long idle project is back on track. Although the remaining towers will not likely meet up to the original, somewhat grand proposal.

That isn't necessarily a bad thing. Grasso has accurately pointed out that Waterfront Square appeals to empty nesters and urban newbies who like suburban amenities and gated communities but hold a curiosity for city living. Waterfront Square succeeds at this.

But to most urbanites, Waterfront Square is a fortressed, suburban complex that just happens to be really tall. The architecture also leaves very little to critique, and in any art, the worst statement one can make is one that isn't interesting enough to look bad.

It's not bad. It's not good. It's boring.

It's also massive in terms of city living. Communal complexes look out of place in urban settings, especially one so close to Center City and adjacent to a very eclectic neighborhood.

Developers love to toss around the term "master plan," and Waterfront Square is as close as we've come to a privately funded "master plan" that would leave such an impact on the city.

The problem with these master plans in an inner city is they lack any integration with their settings. Waterfront Square is impressive, but it not only disengages its inhabitants from the city by refusing to interact with it, it scars the skyline the way the Renaissance Center scars Detroit's.

Under new management Waterfront Square has an opportunity to fix this. Instead of forging ahead with stunted incarnations of its two originally proposed towers, Grasso could use his capital to integrate the remaining property with Columbus Boulevard.

Throw out the blueprints.

Align scaled townhouses with the existing grid, including space for shopping, dining, and entertainment. Consolidate the remaining towers into one impressive high rise that defies the existing mediocre design. This won't only attract the eye, but the juxtaposition of design will make the current towers look less alien to the city scape.

In all likelihood Grasso will continue with the plan as designed, and decapitate the remaining towers. That's okay. It's what the current residents bought and it's a fine project. But with SugarHouse suburbanizing the northern end of Columbus Boulevard, Grasso is in the position to responsibly bring its residents to its sidewalks, not only making his project more pleasing to the eye and more successful, but encouraging new develop along the corridor thus making his property even more valuable.

Financing a Vision

GroJLart at Philaphilia is quickly becoming my favorite "architectural nonsense" blogger in Philadelphia. His latest rant about the dead Bridgeman's View proposal for the waterfront got me reminiscing about a time long ago when we were still building houses we couldn't afford, buying gas guzzling SUVs we didn't need, and openly challenging the country's 1% to transform city skylines around the globe. The year was 2007, a distant memory filled with shopping sprees, cosmopolitans at the latest Steven Starr incarnations, and nights full of unapologetic laughter.

Oh, how I miss the laughter.

Perhaps that's what's so refreshing about GroJLart. Sure, his snarky rants probably trigger your kid's parental controls, but his dark humor applauds our wealthy developers for their inspired visions while berating them when they sell out. No nonsense, no politics, and when a building is just plain ugly, he says it's just plain ugly.

In the enlightened era before smart phones and a pantheon of reality television dedicated to the children spawned by the Jersey Shore, Bridgeman's View went beyond the conventional skyscraper and attempted to maximize what could be done with a glass curtain. In fact, it's unique coiled design might have been better suited to the shores of Dubai than the banks of the Delaware.

Bridgeman's View was more than another skyscraper. Had it been proposed for West Market Street we might be looking at it right now. But Bridgeman's View was an concept and offered a vision beyond occupying another vacant lot.

While it would have housed million dollar condos, it also sought to anchor a new neighborhood. Surrounded by projects that undoubtedly relied on the confidence of Bridgeman's View to turn a forlorn stretch of Delaware Avenue into its own urban core, it was surrounded by shopping, restaurants, bars, and may have encouraged SugarHouse to be more than an uninspired slot barn. 

In a way, the opposing community organizations were correct in their assumptions that Bridgeman's View wasn't concerned with their neighborhoods. It wasn't designed to complement Northern Liberties, but to liberate it from itself. Developers may have underestimated our community organization's relentless reaction to change. In an area arguably even assigned to any neighborhood, developers were forced to rationalize a skyscraper that rationally didn't belong.

In a city full of artists and creativity, we limit the right to be a visionary to those who can't afford it. While many in the surrounding communities might like to claim defeat over Bridgeman's View, the economy was its most vocal opposition. Had the contingent development surrounding the tower been afforded the ability to play out, Bridgeman's View might be pointing its middle finger at the neighbors that tried to squash it.

Rendell Says CasiNO More

His days numbered, the Pennsylvania Governor who championed slot machines across the state is saying "no more". Could Rendell be trying to leave office looking like a good intentioned family man? With no political obligations, is he showing his true colors, or perhaps just bored?

The political way of getting things done in the United States seems to be to stuff a bunch of jargon into a bill, hope nobody reads it, and birth a mediocre version of what you were trying to accomplish. The problem with gaming in Philadelphia is nothing more than a microcosm of that problem, and the problem with gaming across the state.

Both Pennsylvania and Philadelphia take a Soviet approach when it comes to development. Introduce a vice into the mix and you can bet that the state and city will regulate it with an iron fist. Nearly a century after prohibition the state is filled with dry towns and limited access to alcohol. There is no way the state would allow gambling without complete, inhibitory control.

What we ended up with was the product of this control: a state filled with crappy slot barns tainting quaint towns across our landscape. Instead of concentrating the gaming licenses in towns and cities that could have benefited from a destination attraction - let's say Chester - the state required these parlors to be spaced out, guaranteeing absolutely no competition. Without competition, these slot barns will never be anything more than what they are today. In fact they'll decay, and in an absence of competition, find only room for minimal maintenance.

The same thing happened in the city. Requiring the two casinos to be spread apart instead of locating them in a concentrated entertainment district insured the status quo. And now, with the rejection of a second casino, Sugarhouse can rest easily knowing that they will never have to grow, never need to improve, never need to provide better transportation or accommodations, because they're the only game in town.

Poor city planning confounded an already bad move on the part of the state. As City Council and NIMBYs bickered over locations, the casinos were free to move forward with shoddy renderings and absent community interaction. Instead of arguing over the inevitable, the city could have been charging the casinos with improvements to the surrounding areas.

Both casinos could have been charged with the task of providing Delaware Avenue with a light rail or trolley, connecting the two venues and forcing them to compete, while solving a transportation problem that the city is currently investigating on its own. Not to mention what kind of development may have been kindled along Delaware Avenue if transportation was eased between two popular entertainment complexes.

Foxwoods is Done!

In seemingly effortless contrast to the train wreck at South Philly's Foxwoods site, Sugarhouse Casino continued to thrive in the face of protest and economic hardship. Although it was ultimately scaled back to little more than a big box slot barn by community opposition, management and developers produced satisfying renderings, budget proposals, and above all, continued to meet deadlines in the face of chaotic adversity.

Under considerably less public scrutiny, Foxwoods has been allowed to rewrite their proposals to the point that they are no longer recognizable as the casino approved by the state years ago, and they have routinely ignored deadlines. They've proposed new locations, new investors, new names, new renderings, and spent the last four years passing the buck. The corporation has behaved like a child that tests his teachers and parents to see just how far they can be pushed. Well, finally the state has spoken. Fed up with four years of excuses, the state voted to revoke Foxwoods gaming license.

It is unclear what will happen with the available gaming license. Perhaps Gerry Lenfest can work his magic and get someone to back a casino project on the SS United States.

One big reason for the state's decision was in the way the 42% of charitable profit would be handled. Originally exclusive to local charities, Foxwoods had redirected the money to the Pequot Museum in Connecticut and the Mashantucket Pequot Tribal Nation, both organizations affiliated with Foxwoods Casinos. How do you say "shady" in Pequot?

Foxwoods Proposal

Developers released plans designed by the Friedmutter Group (of Harrah's and Showboat in Atlantic City) for the proposed Foxwoods Casino. Aside from your standard suburban appointments, it doesn't philosophically differ from Sugarhouse or any other Pennsylvania slot barn.

The proposal calls for the standard phased roll out including an initial gambling parlor surrounded by surface parking to be replaced with garaged parking at an unannounced time.

Phase one consists of 57, 436 square feet with 1376 parking spaces. The first floor will have three bars and an "Asian gaming area," although it is unclear what that means. A steakhouse and lounge will be on a second floor.

Phase two consists of a parking garage adding a little over 1000 parking spaces.

The New Delaware Avenue

Had it been built, today's economy would have probably left it a ghost town, but what a beautiful ghost town it would have been. It's a shame that of all the grand proposals for Northern Liberties' waterfront area, neighbors managed to NIMBY away all but the most poorly designed of the various proposals. And even in the case of these two, opposition fought so hard against an inevitable casino that they wound up with a suburban warehouse instead of a well designed tower with a landscaped marina.

In a time of optimistic real estate gambling, the post industrial wasteland that is Delaware Avenue was to be the site of a new, and concentrated business, residential, and entertainment district. With skyscrapers rivaling Center City's, the redevelopment of this concrete jungle of vacant lots, rotting warehouses, and abandoned cars promised that Northern Liberties could be more than a hipster's wet dream of ironic blight.

Bridgeman's View

A World Trade Center would redefine this corridor as an international business hub, while sleek, sky scraping condos would tag Northern Liberties as an elite address for Philadelphia's nouveau riche. Hotels and casinos would attract young and old, and Delaware Avenue would become our region's premier address for glitz, glamor, and excess.

Oh, how times change. While just a few years ago, one could envision such a scenario being today's reality, sadly, Delaware Avenue remains a blighted artery, and home to the homeless.

Sugarhouse Casino

Waterfront Square, a poorly designed condominium complex that suburbanizes Delaware Avenue as a gated community that disobeys the grid, is two towers short of its original plan. Developers are struggling to unload the remaining units in the recently completed, and stunted, tower.

Sugarhouse Casino draws a crowd but pays no respect to its surroundings. Like a pig in a prom dress, a large warehouse has been dressed up with a plastic facade. With development tied up in town meetings and neighborhood opposition for over a year, dwindling resources and a sagging economy eliminated a hotel component that redefined the area's skyline and balanced Waterfront Square's jarring presence.

Trump Tower

While many in the neighborhood continue to demonize the projects, the surrounding area and waterfront remain neglected and unused by those who fought so fiercely to preserve them. Certainly the addition of Trump Tower and Bridgeman's View, as well as others, would have led to a much worse real estate situation, one Philadelphia has weathered quite well compared to cities like Miami or Atlanta. But no NIMBY can claim their protest was due to some divine foresight.

While it may have turned into a ghost town, it would have created a badly needed, urban infrastructure in a suffering part of town, one that could save this area from the same mistakes made in South Philadelphia in which a similar landscape was redeveloped into an asphalt oasis of suburban shopping.

Given the current economy and the present state of the neighborhood, it's unlikely this stretch of Delaware Avenue will be thrown any developmental optimism again. If this NIMBY has the foresight it likes to claim, right now they are seeing strip malls and fast food drive-ins.

Date Set for SugarHouse Groundbreaking

After three years of political bureaucracy and NIMBYs screaming at the rain, it's finally been scheduled. SugarHouse Casino will break ground on October 8th at 3 o'clock. Unfortunately the disruptions on the part of the Boys Club in Harrisburg and the feet-stomping in Northern Liberties, ground breaking did not take place before we flushed our economy down the toilet, so instead of a complex of modern towers rising from the river bank, we'll probably be seeing a brightly lit warehouse and parking garage. Well done.