Fourth Annual Philly Spring Clean Up!

Break out the brooms and trash bags, Philly's Fourth Annual Spring Clean Up is this Saturday, April 2nd. The rain date is Saturday, April 9th.

In a city as notoriously filthy as Philadelphia, everyday should be Spring Clean Up Day. But we're human, and sometimes we need an event to remind us of the decent people we should be.

Philadelphia Streets Department has a sign-up sheet on their website, coordinating efforts towards target areas. If you're too busy, or simply don't feel like traveling, that doesn't mean you can't sacrifice a few large garbage bags and pick up the trash on your block.

If you think it's already clean, take another look. You'd be surprised how much trash accumulated in piles of snow and melted its way into your blind spot. Believe me, it's there.

Lost in the Squabble

Demanding too much or too little, preservationists have managed to leave at least two historic properties behind in the squabble. Years ago, developer John J. Turchi purchased former Mayor Richardson Dilworth's Washington Square mansion. Intending on restoring the property and converting it into his private residence, that wasn't good enough for the Historical Commission. Denied his attempt to reside on Washington Square, the Historical Commission demanded that it serve the neighborhood as nothing less noble than a museum.

Well nothing that remains of Dilworth House today is noble. Turchi did what developers do best, he went through the back door and filed an application to build a 20 story condo tower on the site of the house, which would have completely demolished Mayor Dilworth's presence in the neighborhood he fought to transform.

Neighborhood organizations did what they do best and tied Turchi up in hearings for years, demanding rendering after rendering, some so absurd that the facade of Dilworth's mansion was sitting in the lobby of the high rise.

Is this the compromise the Historical Commission wanted when they denied Turchi's use of the house as a private residence? Instead of a restored Colonial reproduction gracing Washington Square, Dilworth House, which was once a message to this former slum, now stands as a vacant testament to what the great mayor fought, not what he accomplished.

At the opposite end of well intended meddling, the Preservation Alliance of Greater Philadelphia and the Callowhill Neighborhood Association had their say yesterday in one of the hearings to decide the fate of Spring Garden's Church of the Assumption. The non-profit group, Siloam, was granted the authority by the Historical Commission to demolish the church due to economic hardships. After hearing of the demolition's approval, a board member of the Callowhill Neighborhood Association quickly submitted the church for historic certification.

Amy Hooper, President of the Callowhill Neighborhood Association claims the organization was "caught off guard" by the demolition. Adding "the last thing (needed) is another parking lot". Truer words can't be spoken of Callowhill and Spring Garden, but in a neighborhood with sparse examples of historic properties, how is it that the status of this iconic building ever managed to fly below the radar? Perhaps Spring Garden's most prominent contribution to the skyline, not one voice at the Callowhill Neighborhood Association spoke out on behalf of this historic property until it was under the wrecking ball.

The property has long sat on numerous endangered lists, even catching the attention of the National Trust for Historic Preservation. Why then, was it not submitted for historic certification until after it was approved for demolition?

Additionally, Hooper noted that the building stands at the "gateway" to the Reading Viaduct which the group wants to convert into a park. But like their absent responsibility for the Church of the Assumption, the neighborhood sits on acres of potential community gardens neglected as urban landfills, and with numerous surface lots and barren concrete walls left from demolition, Callowhill does not have one mural in a city of more than 2000.

It's hard to sympathize with an organization that waited until the 11th hour to wrangle a bevy of witnesses, particularly when they clearly have a habit of neglecting their own potential.

Siloam isn't devoid of their own suspicions. Prominent developers like Alex Generalis have stepped forward to cite how little they knew of the organization's attempt to sell the property in lieu of demolition. Still, in the years that the Church of the Assumption sat vacant no one from the Callowhill Neighborhood Association pointed out the site's deteriorating state of disrepair.

In a neighborhood with no shortage of available land in the way of surface lots and vacant meadows, the last thing that comes to mind when a developer sees a vacant church is going to be "adaptive reuse". This is where neighborhood organizations can shine, by proactively addressing a potential loss in their historic portfolio. Instead, the Callowhill Neighborhood Association is best known for deterring the redevelopment of several surface lots and the fiercely debated reuse of the Reading Viaduct. Meanwhile, many Callowhill residents live in gated fortresses isolating their contribution to the city, and even their own sidewalks.

Sadly, Assistant City Solicitor Leonard Reuter may have made the most apt statement during yesterday's hearing, "Sometimes you have to let it go." And this fact isn't solely due to Siloam's sloppy and inexperienced respect for their property. The loss of the Church of the Assumption, an architecturally and historically significant site, is largely due to those who self-assign themselves watchdogs for our neighborhoods' best interests, and then ignore our neighborhoods' most valuable assets.

Meanwhile, like children caught up in a divorce and awaiting a custody decision, Dilworth House and the Church of the Assumption stand alone, both parents caught up in the squabble, neglecting what's truly at risk because of their own stubborn pride.

Illuminating Broad Street

Arguments against digital signage may have lost a little traction as the Kimmel Center unveiled it's animated video cube at the corner of Broad and Spruce.

Broad Street's historic core has been illuminated in everything from lanterns to neon to LEDs for the past 200 years, and now plasma.

The new signage shows how illuminated advertising can revitalize an architecturally barren corner.

While the target demographics for the Kimmel Center and The Gallery at Market East may be substantially different, the PIFA cube has transformed a stale, unfriendly design into something dynamic through the process of digital advertising.

Far less architecturally significant, Market East's target retail market is primed for an exponentially larger implementation of this successful medium. While South Broad is home to more than a dozen historic skyscrapers and theaters, Market East's major retail artery is left with four historically significant properties at best.

8th Street to 12th Street is an architectural fallout zone of poorly designed retail space, unattractive signage, and The Gallery, saddled with more than two blocks of sporadically adorned metal and concrete walls.

If the argument against the proposed digital signage at Market East is based on its content, then the conversation hasn't begun. Advertisers would be sought after the space is approved. As SCRUB proved with an Absolut ad near 8th and Market, it only takes a few helicopter parents to harass advertisers away.

No one has proposed illuminating The Gallery, or any other building in the vicinity, with advertisements for Delilah's. The potential revenue generated by this space and the business it will attract are staggering. Campaigning against digital signage on Market East purely based on its speculative content is irresponsible to the community.

However if the argument is based on the wattage, medium, or the technique in which the content is applied, a format justified even minimally on South Broad Street cannot rationally be banned from what should be Center City's core of consumerism.

What to do with the Philadelphia Family Courthouse

As technology changes and evolves, it gets harder and harder to reuse purpose built structures whose purpose no longer exists. As the Court of Common Pleas Family Division outgrows its facility at 18th and Vine, demanding a new 14 story courthouse at 15th and Arch adjacent to City Hall, the fate of John Torrey Windrim's 1941 courthouse remains uncertain.

Philadelphia Family Court building, 18th and Vine.

Environmental considerations have architects designing smaller spaces, even in schools and libraries. The courthouse's massive footprint makes it impossible to convert into apartments or hotel rooms. Without an addition, practical uses for the building are limited, mostly as a museum. It's a shame we don't need one right now. Being situated on Logan Circle makes this an ideal location for a new gallery.

But what of an addition? A nearly identical situation arose in Jamaica, Queens, New York where a Queens Family Courthouse was converted into a retail complex with a 12 story residential building encasing the rear of the original courthouse.

Queens Family Courthouse with residential addition.

The conversion has been harshly criticized for wrapping an historic landmark with "boring glass and steel". But with all due respect to the critics, what is the best way to reuse a building that has outlived its usefulness?

I will agree, the Dermot Company's addition is not the best way to integrate old and new. And part of the problem is in their attempt to respect the scale of the original. The dull, horizontal addition cuts through the original courthouse. The subtlety of its presence is what makes it so obstructive.

Queens Family Courthouse in 1935.

If you're not going to fully respect the original design of the original and stick with one style, don't just slap on a boring, plastic cube. The classicism of the original design is dramatic, and so should its addition.

A glass curtain of bright colors could be shooting from the center of the building. Asymmetrical lightening made of glass and steel could be exploding from the courthouse's main hall. Any number of shocking designs could create drama in a building originally intended to be dramatic.

We could learn from the mistakes made with the Queens Family Courthouse. If we intend to encourage the redevelopment of our Family Courthouse as a hotel or apartments, let's also encourage exciting design. Not something that blends into the background, or worse, something that dilutes the drama of the Ben Franklin Parkway and Logan Square.

Daniel Libeskind's addition to the Royal Ontario Museum. Although the addition is in stark contrast to the original building, the avante garde juxtaposition creates an exciting situation, whereas Dermot's addition to the Queens Family Courthouse humbly respects the architecture of the original building while doing nothing to compliment or contrast it, diluting the designs of both.

Pork Brick

Answer? Don't think about it.

Quite possibly one of the most quintessential Philly Bricks, Dutch Country's delicacy is being honored tomorrow at Reading Terminal Market with Scrapplefest. With activities including Iron Chef inspired culinary competitions where the mystery ingredient is this mystery meat, and sculptures made out of your favorite gray loaf of pig, spice, and corn meal; save your appetite, set aside any misconceptions, ignore what you're eating, and embrace being a Pennsylvanian.

1200 Bank Moving Forward

Between the red tape, unions, antiquated zoning ordinances, and no shortage of public opinion from our institutional Negadelphians, the cost of doing business in Center City isn't cheap. If you want to open a hot dog stand on Broad and Chestnut, chances are someone in East Falls has an opinion on it and will not hesitate to let you know. Perhaps the biggest toll on developing anything in Philly isn't the cost, but the mental toll developers go through trying to wrap their heads around the accepted corruption and absurd rationalization that borders on schizophrenic. It certainly boggles my mind.

That said, it's not shocking - albeit absolutely bat scat crazy - that the posh billiard hall, 1200 Bank, that promises to transform a stagnant Chestnut Street intersection in Washington Square West, has been forced to jump into the sludge pit of subjective crappery brought about by neighborly opposition. It hurts one's head to try to understand why owners of condos that cost more than half a million dollars would object to re-branding their iffy intersection that is home to little more than a tenement of some of the most angry bums in the city. Given the economy, you would think that they'd jump at the opportunity to boost the value of their real estate.

Instead, White building resident Craig Grossman has been 1200 Bank's most vocal opponent. It's interesting to note that Grossman works closely with Tony Goldman who developed the White Building and transformed a similar intersection at 13th and Sansom. It's not shocking but a little unnerving that unethical maneuvering is tolerated. Muscling out competition is tacky. Besides, developing 12th Street will only help the existing business on 13th.

Typical Philly bull plop. Really? Grow up people. I'm starting to realize that the most powerful players in this town are nothing more than over-educated children using City Hall as a giant middle school cafeteria.

1200 Bank's developer, Paul Giegerisch is coming close to "breaking ground", but it's been a two year process, and Grossman's mouth and Goldman's muscle certainly won't be the last obstacles. A proposed zoning bill is headed to City Council for a vote. With the full support of the Planning Commission, the Historical Commission, and the Preservation Alliance of Greater Philadelphia, it seems hopeful that some White Building residents at 12th and Chestnut might have to accept the fact that their address just might get a little more desirable.

Nagging Your Way to Relevance

College is expensive, especially design school. And architecture school? Forget it. But my favorite little clique of chronic complainers have found a loop hole in all of that. Apparently in Philadelphia, if you want to be a professional in anything - let's say urban planning - all you need is a website, 30 fans on Facebook, and the incessant ability to nag.

Well, Mary Tracy and her cohorts at SCRUB have outnagged themselves this time. In addition to being the thorn in Market East's multiple attempts to reinvent itself, SCRUB has self-assigned itself an expert in urban planning and outdoor marketing, publishing the "Accessory Signage Handbook".

These anti-blight activists, who have done little if anything to address this city's definable examples of "urban blight", organized a workshop in Lower Moyamensing on responsible and legal signage. That's funny, because the only signage SCRUB has been attacking is the legal signage along Interstate 95, small posters on news stands, and the attempted use of The Gallery's blank walls.

Meanwhile vacant buildings in our poorest neighborhoods continue to be shrouded in illegally applied signage that isn't just ugly, but also dangerous, and Market East remains a desolate strip of mid-century architecture, concrete, and trash filled surface lots.

I can't wait to hear what these self-professed professional urban planners have to say about City Target's possible arrival at The Disney Hole.