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Super Bowl Cleanup Leads to Preservation Debate in Detroit
February 8, 2006
Last week's Super Bowl had helped spur Detroit's civic leaders to make over its downtown, long known for its empty buildings and deserted streets, over the past three years. New sidewalks and street lighting were installed; early 20th-century office towers were converted to loft apartments and condominiums, and several dozen new shops and restaurants opened in once-empty storefronts. As a result, downtown hasn't looked so good in years.
But a controversial aspect of this ambitious makeover was the city's demolition of several historic structures. Among the buildings to fall in the weeks and months prior to Super Bowl XL were the landmark Statler Hotel, a 1914 high-rise that was among the most modern in the world when built; the Madison-Lenox Hotel, a much more modest eight-story structure that, while not a landmark in itself, was part of the city's officially designated Madison-Harmonie Historic District. A 1920-circa office building by architect Albert Kahn that once housed the headquarters of the Motown music empire was also demolished along with several smaller structures leaving broad gaps in the greater downtown streetscape.
Part of the sting in losing these buildings was that, at least in some cases, the city seemed to ignore basic landmark protections afforded by state law. Detroit's Historic District Advisory Commission twice refused Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick's request to tear down the Madison-Lenox; the mayor's building department then condemned the building as unsafe and razed it anyway.
The dispute over demolition centers not on just one set of buildings, but rather on two competing philosophies about how to redevelop the city. On one side, there is Mayor Kilpatrick's "clean, safe, beautiful" mantra for cleaning up downtown as soon as possible. Under this approach, the city targets its so-called dinosaur buildings - those that have been vacant for at least 10 years - for either fast-track redevelopment or demolition.
On the other side is an array of enthusiasts, architects and investors who see preservation of Detroit's stock of older buildings as key to the city's revival. These preservationists contend that what makes cities livable and walkable - neighborhoods such as Detroit's Greektown, Corktown, Midtown, and Harmonie Park - consists of historic properties patiently restored by investors. Once threatened with demolition, these districts survived almost by accident, yet today they provide some of Detroit's most eclectic, diverse neighborhoods.
George Jackson, president of the quasi-public Detroit Economic Growth Corp., who led much of Kilpatrick's clean-up effort, says he turns to demolition only as a last-resort.
"I do feel that economic reality does play a role," he says. "I think that when you have a structure that is not economically feasible to restore, then I think you have to look at the option of demolition sometimes. Obviously you can restore any building if you have the money to do it, but no one going to restore properties if they cannot make money off their investment."
Jackson notes that some buildings, like the now-lost Statler, sat vacant for decades. Intensive efforts to structure a financing package to help reopen the Statler had failed. Facing the Super Bowl deadline, the city opted to tear it down rather than wait any longer for a savior.
Francis Grunow, executive director of the local non-profit group Preservation Wayne, gives Kilpatrick's administration credit for helping developers turn several early 20th Century office buildings downtown into residential lofts. But he worries over the pace of demolition. "There's definitely been a move to rehabilitate in a way we haven't seen in decades. At the same time, we've lost a lot of key buildings that there have been debates about. It's definitely been an accelerated pace of both," he says.
Everyone agrees that Kilpatrick and his aides have worked mightily to try to restore Detroit's two most famous vacant eyesores, the Michigan Central Depot, a 1914 structure crafted by Warren & Wetmore and Reed & Stem (who also created Grand Central Station in New York) and the Book-Cadillac Hotel, a 1924 Italian Renaissance high-rise by Louis Kamper. Kilpatrick's administration pursued - so far in vain - a plan to make over the depot as the city's new police headquarters. If the depot project falls apart, the city hopes to close on a redevelopment deal soon for the Book-Cadillac, vacant since 1984. But even as the city goes to almost heroic measures on individual projects, preservationists like Grunow say there is still no overall philosophy that sees historic preservation as a basic approach to urban redevelopment.
"I think we still lack a process that is in place in other cities," he says. "We're still behind in that regard."
John Gallagher
Book-Cadillac Hotel
Madison-Lenox Hotel
Michigan Central Depot... future HQ for Robocop?
(from Forgotten Detroit)
Link to article
Super Bowl Cleanup Leads to Preservation Debate in Detroit
February 8, 2006
Last week's Super Bowl had helped spur Detroit's civic leaders to make over its downtown, long known for its empty buildings and deserted streets, over the past three years. New sidewalks and street lighting were installed; early 20th-century office towers were converted to loft apartments and condominiums, and several dozen new shops and restaurants opened in once-empty storefronts. As a result, downtown hasn't looked so good in years.
But a controversial aspect of this ambitious makeover was the city's demolition of several historic structures. Among the buildings to fall in the weeks and months prior to Super Bowl XL were the landmark Statler Hotel, a 1914 high-rise that was among the most modern in the world when built; the Madison-Lenox Hotel, a much more modest eight-story structure that, while not a landmark in itself, was part of the city's officially designated Madison-Harmonie Historic District. A 1920-circa office building by architect Albert Kahn that once housed the headquarters of the Motown music empire was also demolished along with several smaller structures leaving broad gaps in the greater downtown streetscape.
Part of the sting in losing these buildings was that, at least in some cases, the city seemed to ignore basic landmark protections afforded by state law. Detroit's Historic District Advisory Commission twice refused Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick's request to tear down the Madison-Lenox; the mayor's building department then condemned the building as unsafe and razed it anyway.
The dispute over demolition centers not on just one set of buildings, but rather on two competing philosophies about how to redevelop the city. On one side, there is Mayor Kilpatrick's "clean, safe, beautiful" mantra for cleaning up downtown as soon as possible. Under this approach, the city targets its so-called dinosaur buildings - those that have been vacant for at least 10 years - for either fast-track redevelopment or demolition.
On the other side is an array of enthusiasts, architects and investors who see preservation of Detroit's stock of older buildings as key to the city's revival. These preservationists contend that what makes cities livable and walkable - neighborhoods such as Detroit's Greektown, Corktown, Midtown, and Harmonie Park - consists of historic properties patiently restored by investors. Once threatened with demolition, these districts survived almost by accident, yet today they provide some of Detroit's most eclectic, diverse neighborhoods.
George Jackson, president of the quasi-public Detroit Economic Growth Corp., who led much of Kilpatrick's clean-up effort, says he turns to demolition only as a last-resort.
"I do feel that economic reality does play a role," he says. "I think that when you have a structure that is not economically feasible to restore, then I think you have to look at the option of demolition sometimes. Obviously you can restore any building if you have the money to do it, but no one going to restore properties if they cannot make money off their investment."
Jackson notes that some buildings, like the now-lost Statler, sat vacant for decades. Intensive efforts to structure a financing package to help reopen the Statler had failed. Facing the Super Bowl deadline, the city opted to tear it down rather than wait any longer for a savior.
Francis Grunow, executive director of the local non-profit group Preservation Wayne, gives Kilpatrick's administration credit for helping developers turn several early 20th Century office buildings downtown into residential lofts. But he worries over the pace of demolition. "There's definitely been a move to rehabilitate in a way we haven't seen in decades. At the same time, we've lost a lot of key buildings that there have been debates about. It's definitely been an accelerated pace of both," he says.
Everyone agrees that Kilpatrick and his aides have worked mightily to try to restore Detroit's two most famous vacant eyesores, the Michigan Central Depot, a 1914 structure crafted by Warren & Wetmore and Reed & Stem (who also created Grand Central Station in New York) and the Book-Cadillac Hotel, a 1924 Italian Renaissance high-rise by Louis Kamper. Kilpatrick's administration pursued - so far in vain - a plan to make over the depot as the city's new police headquarters. If the depot project falls apart, the city hopes to close on a redevelopment deal soon for the Book-Cadillac, vacant since 1984. But even as the city goes to almost heroic measures on individual projects, preservationists like Grunow say there is still no overall philosophy that sees historic preservation as a basic approach to urban redevelopment.
"I think we still lack a process that is in place in other cities," he says. "We're still behind in that regard."
John Gallagher
Book-Cadillac Hotel
Madison-Lenox Hotel
Michigan Central Depot... future HQ for Robocop?
(from Forgotten Detroit)
