Boyd Site Redesign Offers Less of the Same

Last month the Philadelphia Historical Commission sent Pearl Properties back to the drawing board for its mixed use complex at 19th and Chestnut. Pearl must have misunderstood the reason their original design wasn't approved, because their redesign - if you can call it that - appears to be the same building with its bland-filter turned up.

What was proposed last month wasn't great, especially compared to the Art Deco rendering of an apartment tower we were led to believe would be flanking this prominent corner. Instead, its tower was pushed back to Sansom Street while a dull retail component sidled up to the Boyd Theater's head-house. Interestingly, in both renderings, Pearl ignores what is its most interesting component: the corpse of the Boyd Theater. 

Almost as if Pearl doesn't want anyone to ask what will happen of the theater's grand lobby, it pixelates into the background with something that looks like a store called Vivace. Perhaps hoping to grab some street-cred with a Versace implication, it really just implies that the Boyd's lobby will not serve as the lobby to its residential component, or as a lobby at all. Instead, we might assume, the lobby will be chopped up into another small-box retailer like the drugstore across the street or so many other once-theater-lobbies in Philadelphia. 

And what about the new elements? If this were a design competition and Pearl given a second chance, we'd see a wildly different and more dynamic design. It's easy, although shortsighted, to assume that the Historical Commission rejected Pearl's initial design because the complex is replacing something astounding, an astounding demolition that the Commission did approve. In its place, at best, should be a concession, something that at least tries to replace what was lost.

But this isn't a competition, it's bureaucracy and Pearl is dancing with the city. What seems to have happened leading up to the Boyd's demolition appears to be continuing right under the idealistic noses of the city's preservationists. As the Boyd traded hands, or appeared to trade hands, owners and speculators seemed to be laying down groundwork that would insure that the ultimate outcome would be extraordinarily profitable at the expense of preservation, or the architectural best interest of the site. 

Live Nation got a hardship exemption to demolish the Boyd's auditorium, then Neil Rodin all-but promised it would be replaced with an even more lavish cinema experience. Meanwhile, Pearl pitched a glorious high-rise for the corner of 19th and Chestnut. The triad had satisfied everyone, albeit with much public reluctance. But right before the Boyd's roof was ripped off, Rodin backed out, Pearl quietly exited the movie theater business, and the chaos exposed itself as a perfectly orchestrated project plan.

A plan that has left us with no hope that Pearl's mixed use plan for 19th and Chestnut will ever be anything more than the lowest common denominator. Despite its unimpressive facades and configurations, the layout makes absolute, commercial sense. The low rise retail component will face 19th and Chestnut, its most heavily trafficked intersection, while its mid rise apartment tower will sit on Sansom, likely above a parking podium, where nothing notable will be seen from the street. 

It's ugly, but this isn't a building designed to impress or win awards. It was always a heavily commercial endeavor. We'll never know for sure if this was Pearl's plan all along, but it's clear that preservationists and the more clueless Historical Commission were duped by Live Nation, Neil Rodin, and Pearl Properties. The only piece that seems to be still up for debate, the piece we should be primarily focused on, is ironically the only piece left that matters: the Boyd Theater's grand lobby. 

Why We're Losing the Boyd

As demolition appears to have begun at the Boyd Theater, activists are dealing with the twelve stages of grief, primarily fixating on anger and denial.

The hard truth is the Boyd was lost a long, long time ago when the Sam Eric closed. For all of the Historical Commission's ills, the organization seemed to be the only that recognized the Boyd's inevitable fate.

Meanwhile the public waited, biting their nails fed by the delusion that the Friends of the Boyd was on the case.

The age of the internet allows armchair activists to reach millions, but without a plan this approach gives the public false hope and can even hinder the strategic tactics by professional activist like those at the Preservation Alliance of Philadelphia.

Welcome to Amateur Hour.

Unfortunately in Philadelphia, the media often operates during amateur hour as well. Philly.com writers seem to take every Facebook page and Change.org petition seriously. Both Philly.com and Curbed.com posted stories about Caryn Kunkle's Change.org petition to seize the Divine Lorraine by imminent domain. Despite the unrealistic, and even illegal proposal, the government funded art studios that could never happen were taken seriously by thousands of readers because journalists were actually writing about a proposal they knew was impossible.

Of course the media can't be entirely to blame. Journalists, both mainstream and independent, understood exactly how unrealistic it was to save the Boyd as-is. They wrote about Friends of the Boyd and their efforts because there was no realistic involvement in the challenge to save the Boyd. If there was corporate backing or a public benefactor in the mix, Friends of the Boyd would be nothing but a Facebook page that occasionally appeared in the comments section. You can write about saving history until your fingers bleed, but if you can't bring a serious proposal to the table, there's no reason to be taken seriously.

In an absence of any real effort, journalists had nothing else to write about and Friends became the brand behind the cause. Anyone who didn't know the Boyd was coming down was blinded by hope or the misconception that Friends had a plan. 

Despite the ultimate outcome I'm still an idealist. I would have loved to see the Boyd restored. I would love for there to be a market in Center City to financially support a boutique theater. A new iPic Theater could have easily occupied one of the many surface lots anywhere on Market East or West Market Street. But it hasn't been a realistic outcome for the Boyd in the last decade and is unlikely a realistic outcome in the next, particularly without massive subsidies to maintain a very niche offering.

But that brings us to what the Boyd Theater actually is. Somewhere along Friends' campaign, the Boyd went from being the last historic movie theater in Center City to implying that it is the best that ever existed.

If the Fox or the Stanton was still standing, there'd be thousands of activists in front of the wrecking ball, backed by money and a plan. The Boyd just isn't that interesting. If it were, we'd see the corporate sponsorship and public support for its restoration. If the Boyd were worthy we'd see the kind of philanthropy that has stood up for the S.S. United States.

Unfortunately being the best of what's left doesn't make the Boyd significant, relegating it to truth that not every interesting building can be saved.

The Boyd Theater: What's Next?

Despite an anonymous offer to purchase the Boyd Theater from its current owners, the Historical Commission has agreed to let Live Nation demolish the historic theater. Why is entirely up for speculation. The purchase price of $4.5M didn't come with any guarantees. In fact, one very possible outcome from saving the Boyd's auditorium at the behest of advocates could have resulted in it sitting vacant for another decade, ultimately leading to the loss of the entire building. iPic Theaters has agree to restore the façade.

However given the Historical Commission's job performance, that doesn't mean the city had the theater's best interests in mind. The commission has allowed a number of properties that they deemed historic to crumble in the hands of slum lords and property hoarders, ultimately approving them for demolition.

The Historical Commission's namesake is a bit of a misnomer, and it's questionable whether anyone in the agency understands what constitutes history or why. It's a poorly funded city agency that reviews nominations for historic properties, then I assume they choose the prettiest and slap an arbitrary historic sticker on it. After that, private developers are saddled with the financial burden of restoring a crumbling relic. The commission does nothing to ensure the safety of its historic properties. Many, such as the Church of the Assumption, slowly become undesirable or even unusable pieces of property.

But the loss of the Boyd doesn't have to be a complete wash. This forgotten theater generated more awareness surrounding preservation in one of America's most historic cities than some of Philadelphia's most notable abandonment. There are lessons that have been learned and the commission's flaws exposed.

Sites like the Divine Lorraine and the SS United States are well known because their presence is so prominent. Their fate is unsure because they've sat vacant and stripped. But there are dozens of other sites in the city which, much like the Boyd, are completely usable yet unknown or unappreciated to those passing by.

Instead of dwelling over the demise of the Boyd, the momentum and public awareness it generated needs to be used to move on to the next threatened property: The Roundhouse, Robinson's Department Store, The Department of Public Health, The National Building. These are strange buildings, notable architectural examples that represent unique historic eras. They also sit on prime property ripe for redevelopment.

Maybe it's difficult for those vested in the past to look at the future. But all too often preservationists come to the aid of our historic properties the very moment it's too late. Let's not wait for the wrecking ball to come to The National Office of Big Brothers Big Sisters before we decide it's worth saving. And while we have the attention of the media and the public, let's take the Historical Commission to task for neglecting its sole responsibility: protecting our city's history.

Last Minute Miracle...maybe?

In what may be a last minute miracle, Friends of the Boyd founder Howard B. Haas seems to have an anonymous buyer willing to match iPic's $4.5M offer for the beleaguered Boyd Theater. 

Still, the fact that the offer comes just a week before Live Nation's (current owner) hardship hearing with the Historical Commission and the anonymous nature of the donor, things seems fishy.

Who is the donor? Where has he or she been for the last two decades? Was Friends of the Boyd holding this card until it was absolutely needed? If that's the case, will the investment end at $4.5M ensuring that it continues to sit, or will the potential owner invest in its restoration, reopening it as the grand movie palace it once was?

These are all questions the Historical Commission will consider before it decides the fate of the historic building. Simply ponying up $4.5M so that it can be managed by an advocacy group could prove to be the iconic theater's worst case scenario, particularly if it requires just as much money or more to open the doors as a profitable venue.

Historical Commission: Time for a Performance Review

Philly.com

Philadelphia's sole surviving movie palace, The Boyd Theater, is charging headfirst at the wrecking ball. Our city's agents charged with protecting worthy landmarks treat historic status as a mere suggestion in favor of flashy, disposable design. Developers write their own hardship causes with no input from challenging independent audits.

So how is Spring Garden's Church of the Assumption still standing? It's baffling, a little bit sad, and its recently revoked demolition permit somewhat bittersweet.

The church's historic status is undeniable with or without a formal designation. The Roman Catholic Saint, Katherine Drexel was baptized there. In a state of disrepair, architect Patrick Charles Keely's unique temple shines on Spring Garden's otherwise boring streetscape.

Although a Commonwealth Court judge declared the demolition permit provided by the Historical Commission invalid, the judgment does little to save the church.

Developer John Wei will need to apply for a hardship waiver and prove restoring the landmark is cost prohibitive to obtain a demolition permit.

But he did that once before. Siloam, its previous owner, did it as well. Nothing in the court's judgment stops the Historical Commission from granting another permit, it only suggests that the previous permit was poorly written.

If iPic's Hamid Hashemi can prove that redeveloping the fully functional Boyd Theater as a theater is cost prohibitive, there's nothing standing in the Commission's way of declaring a crumbling church in an iffy part of town a lost cause.

Of course it's too easy to paint developers as Monopoly champions dragging around large bags stamped with dollar signs because that's exactly what they are. They build us theaters and apartment buildings and are largely responsible for our amazing skyline. Developers are the reason we have landmarks like The Boyd to fight over.

The problem is much larger than individual examples of developers paving over historic sites for parking lots. At the source is a broader scope responsible for every loss, our city's reluctance to save sites the city itself once deemed historic.

But can we? It's hard to watch Philadelphia auctioning off its schools and then ask the city to help save a theater or a church. But the city does it all the time.

We funnel money into private projects because they stand to profit the city and create jobs. Unfortunately the city doesn't hold its historic sites in the same regard, or perhaps our politicians just haven't though about it.

This city has spared no pork when it comes to political photo ops. We've spent millions on design studies for the Delaware Waterfront, Parkway improvements, and Dilworth Plaza. When it comes to intervening in history, the Historical Commission leaves crumbling sites exclusively to their own devices and at the mercy of their owners.

Philadelphia is a global tourist attraction, an attraction rooted in history. If any politicos should understand the significance behind landmarks like The Boyd or the Church of the Assumption it would be ours'. But they don't get it, routinely siding with developers at the eleventh hour.

The reason sites are declared historic is multifaceted. Most visibly, the declaration helps dictate a level of restoration, but only if its owner chooses to or can afford to preserve the site.

Beyond that, and where the city falls short, historic designation indicates that preservation may pose a challenge. Old buildings are old, they're hard to work with, and like the Church of the Assumption, many have outlived their architectural purpose.

This is exactly why historic status is important. It's ironic that the Historical Commission grants economic hardship exemptions with such regularity when the historic status in itself means that redevelopment will almost always be economically difficult.

Philebrity.com

This is where the city's involvement, and yes, even tax dollars, is most crucial. But it's also where the city's involvement is most absent.

If the city can grant developers tax breaks and subsidies to develop hotels and apartments, where are the incentives that protect our landmarks?

The Historical Commission is lip service. Worse than an ineffectual government agency, it hinders the sites it was designed to protect. Countless private historical organizations like the Greater Preservation Alliance of Philadelphia, often confused with the Commission itself, are forced to challenge the Commission's decisions.

That should never happen.

The Commission needs to aid every site it declares historic. While that certainly means it needs to be more thorough when it comes to granting historic status, some sites will be lost. But if the Commission is going to continue to grant hardship exemptions at every site it deems historically significant, historic status and the Commission mean absolutely nothing. 

How many of the Commission's historic sites have actually been saved? How many stand vacant? How many are awaiting a hardship waiver? How many have been demolished? And demolished for what?

The Commission exists to preserve Philadelphia's history. Maybe it's time to review their work.

Bye Bye, Boyd

iPic Entertainment's President, Hamid Hashemi has claimed that an eight screen mega complex is the only way to save the historic Boyd Theater.

While Hashemi promised to restore the theater's Art Deco façade and lobby, the auditorium would be demolished. Ben Leech of the Preservation Alliance of Greater Philadelphia has echoed the reaction of the region's historic community and the alliance plans to challenge Hashemi's hardship claim.

Arguing that a theater built  from scratch on vacant land would be cost prohibitive, Hashemi stated, "There is no way to take a piece of real estate and build a theater on it and justify the rents or acquisition costs. That’s why you don’t have any new theaters."

I guess the Pearl and the Bridge are figments of my imagination.

What's more, Hashemi's Boyd development is all but a complete rebuild. How is it cost prohibitive to build a new theater from scratch on cleared land, but somehow cheaper to demolish an existing building and stack a Texas style megaplex on the carcass?

iPic's claims read like an itemized list of bull shit.

In addition to suggesting that Philadelphia has no new theaters, Hashemi claimed that iPic's original plan was to restore the Boyd. That's fishy considering iPic Entertainment is a national chain solely specializing in luxury multiplexes.

If iPic intended to restore the Boyd, they're muddling their position. Restoring the Boyd obviously wouldn't turn the kind of profit a multiplex would and it may take longer for iPic to recoup their investment. However iPic's assertion that restoration would be cost prohibitive is based entirely on estimates by EConsult, a consulting firm that iPic themselves commissioned.

What's even more curious is that iPic's eight screens will only hold 744 people while the massive Boyd auditorium holds 2300. Although Hashemi's multiplex will be showing eight movies at once, it's hard to imagine he could charge that much more to make up for 1500 less customers.

Ironically Hashemi is pitching iPic's multiplex as an experience, "Everything we do today is what people used to do in the 1920s and 30s. They used to create experiences. Going to the movies wasn’t just about what was on the screen."

His statement is represented in everything that the Boyd already is, but the truth is between the lines. Hashemi's multiplexes are experiences that offer everything you have at home: blankets and 64 oz sodas. The experience he's regaling is the one he's killing, and that's where iPic's true motivations lie.

iPic is a brand. While it may be an experience, that branded experience has nothing to do with the historic silver screen, a stance that could be more respectable if Hashemi would just be honest about the company's intent because it's all too obvious.

The only real mystery is why Hashemi claims that building on vacant land is cheaper than bastardizing the historic Boyd. What kind of incentives will iPic receive with its economic hardship claim? What subsidies is it receiving for restoring a portion of the headhouse? Does "renovating" a property allow for tax breaks and parking exemptions that iPic wouldn't receive if they broke ground on clear land?

We'll find out soon enough, and much of it is in the hands of the Historic Commission that's taken iPic's every claim at face value. I don't know why Philadelphia's Historic Commission exists if not to protect this exact scenario from playing out.

iPic's Boyd Theater

A long fought preservation battle at The Boyd Theater near Rittenhouse Square may be coming to a close, with a pretty shitty compromise to history buffs. In The Boyd, Philadelphia has Center City's sole remaining historic movie palace. What's more shocking, this Art Deco masterpiece is nearly in tact and entirely usable.

iPic Theaters has pitched a proposal to tear down the luxurious and historic auditorium to build, well, what it calls a "luxury" auditorium.

Nice "luxurious" brick wall.

Sometimes I think that people who toss around words like "luxury" don't really understand what it means. To the tasteless cretins at Florida's iPic and the fat slobs cozying up to a 64oz soda at one of iPic's "successful" locations in - shocker - Scottsdale, Austin, and Phoenix, here's a tip: Philadelphia is not Scottsdale, Austin, or Phoenix. If you want to build that shit here, do it in New Jersey. Don't bulldoze Center City's one and only remaining, and functional, historic movie theater and then use the carcass to market yourself as iPic's Historic Boyd.

It's tacky.

Center City has room for one of iPic's theaters. There's plenty of vacant land, surface parking lots, and perfectly boring office buildings with room for a multiplex right around the corner.

Hello, Market East? Why The Boyd? Does iPic see itself as The Boyd's (misguided) salvation? Or do they view its marquee and prominence in historic circles as a jankey marketing ploy? Don't answer that, we all know the answer.

It's no surprise that a company from Florida knows nothing about Philadelphia's history or how we perceive it. But it seems as if a company that solely develops movie theaters knows absolutely nothing about cinematic history either.

The industry has changed, I understand that. Multiplexes are great things. Luxury multiplexes are even more amazing. Someday we may even be fighting to save The Bridge or The Pearl, both of which are beautiful works of modern architecture, someday as significant as The Boyd.

But single screen movie houses still serve a purpose as dollar theaters and boutique cinemas around the country that invented celluloid. The Boyd isn't just Philadelphia history, it's American history as important as anything on Society Hill.

Of course iPic will have no problem proving getting the Historic Commission to green light the demolition. Proving cost prohibitions to the commission has become as easy as getting free swag at the convention center: just show up.

It's a wonder Philadelphia even has an Historic Commission if its sole purpose isn't to protect the city's history. It's as if the consultants developers hire to prove their historic properties are lost causes are somehow...hired by the developers.

Wow, that seems fishy. I mean that's like hiring your brother to come to your personal injury suit to prove that your neck hurts. But that's exactly what iPic did. In fact, that's what every developer seeking a demolition permit does.

iPic themselves commissioned an EConsult report to prove that restoring the Boyd would cost between $41M and $44M. It's a far fetched notion based on little more than iPic's effort to prove it's damn expensive, but it's also complete bullshit.

$40M? I'll go to Home Depot and get some paint and spackle.

What does that $40M get you? If you wanted to show movies in the Boyd, you could simply open the door and tell people to bring a chair. Where's EConsult's estimate for a new screen, seats, and a fresh coat of paint?

EConsult's report for The Boyd's rehabilitation is an estimate for rebuilding The Boyd from the ground up. But more importantly, where is the Historic Commission's independent audit?

$40M is outrageous, on par with stabilizing the SS United States. Philadelphia's historical community, which perplexingly is in no way affiliated with the Historic Commission, has become so numb to these astronomical and subjective estimates that no one bothers to question these bloated claims.

Unfortunately, with no support for the commission charged with protecting the city's history, The Friends of the Boyd has had to tackle the preservation efforts with little more than a Facebook page and a website.

The Boyd is one of many examples of the commission's neglected duties, leaving every protected landmark in the hands of a few devoted volunteers who have to battle developers drafing their own cost prohibitions.