Portland Architecture

Warehouse Temple: Visiting Works Partnership's Olympic Mills Commerce Center

Yesterday I made a long-intended visit to the Olympic Mills Commerce Center, the circa-1927 cereal mill that has been renovated by Works Partnership Architecture and Beam Development into a series of flexible creative spaces for mostly design-based tenants. Some rough edges not withstanding, I like this building and its rehab a lot.

The original structure, known since 1950 as the B&O warehouse (for the former Baggage and Omnibus Company), has an eight-story concrete grain elevator and extends to nearly a full city block with its two-story warehouse.

A series of four courtyards cut into the warehouse with skylights to bring in natural light. These double-height courtyards, encircled by second-floor catwalks, are the most pleasant and photogenic portions of the building. They’re clad in slatted wood (made of 2x6 flooring) that was re-milled from several wood grain cribs that had been part of the tower’s grain elevator.

In a recent home magazine article I wrote, the homeowner talked about enjoying the high volumes that existed even in rooms with relatively small square footage. I thought of the same with these four spaces. Rather than one huge atrium, like you’d find at Montgomery Park, you have four that are small enough to feel intimate yet large enough to feel expansive. And the slatted wood is gorgeous. This some will surely find too hyperbolic, but while the Olympic Mills Commerce Center may not be quite at this level of sophistication, inside the courtyards of this huge, rough-edged former cereal mill, I felt the hint of a Buddhist temple, or some light filled Alvar Aalto building like the Mt. Angel Abbey Library.

The architects had different plans for furniture than the identical red couches in the quartet of spaces. “We were also hoping that each courtyard would be populated with a different furniture strategy,” Works’ Bill Neburka said in a recent email. “One would be old work tables for impromptu meetings, one would be salvaged wood chairs of all types. I was always really intrigued by how you could see a record of human patterns by the residual chair placement in Bryant Park in NYC: sort of like tracks in the sand. We're still working on that one.”

Even so, getting accomplished a historic renovation like this one, which could have been full of countless surprise-expenses, I don’t think the couches are so bad for a start. Maybe it’ll just need to be up to the tenants to take initiative in creating that kind of community—tables or no tables. There is also a lot of artwork, banners and other stuff hanging from the walls, perhaps too much in my taste. But I can see its effectiveness in encouraging these tenants to form that kind of intra-building community.

Although most of my time was spent exploring the interior courtyards, I also took the elevator up to the top floor of the grain elevator. It is still unoccupied, unlike most of the rest of the building, and there seemed to be some residual construction going on there. But as the tallest building in the Central Eastside (or at least close to it), and just across the river from downtown, Olympic Mills offers some tantalizing views.

When the building was purchased in 2005, the tower and base of the building were painted two different colors, which broke up the mass of the huge old mill. But this time around, the new paint job, a sort of earthy orange, was used throughout the exterior. As a result, one gets a much stronger sense of the building as a big portion of Portland’s east-of-the-Willamette skyline.

It makes me wonder what modern buildings might someday be built in the neighborhood to contrast the wonderful historic industrial structures like this one. Hopefully we won’t make the same mistake as some did in the Pearl District, pairing new faux-industrial with the old warehouses. That’s certainly not happening at the Olympic Mills Commerce Center, though, which has new life but nevertheless feels, in its materials and character, like one connecting thread from past to present and beyond. "It's a super-cool building," Neburka adds. "We just tried to stay out of our own way."

Emmons Architects' Deschutes Brewery and the Magic of Chainsaw Art

Last week at architect Stuart Emmons' invitation I visited the new Deschutes Brewery brew pub on Southwest 11th Avenue near the Brewery Blocks. The building was a familiar one: the former Jim Stevens Auto Body building, where my car was repaired a few years ago after being hit by a Tri-Met bus. I was very happy with the body work, but I think most people will get more out of this building now that Deschutes is here. The pub is right next door to Portland Center Stage's Gerding Theater at the Armory, so this would make an ideal pre- or post-theater stop. (As would, admittedly, any number of other nearby outlets from Sushiland to Henry's Tavern to Pizza Schmizza.)

The goal, Emmons says, was to create a brewpub that was in between two other local pubs' styles: the sleekness of Holst Architecture's Bridgeport brewpub remodel and the homey, lived in quality of McMenamins' approximately 10,000 local pubs. And inside, that's how it seemed. You could tell there was a real architect behind the design in terms of the spatial arrangements. There is lots of character to the place, but I had a sense of the vast wide open space being divided into a series of room-like smaller spaces without the overall sense of light and vastness being taken away.

There was also a lot of fun had on this project in terms of textures and accoutrements. Numerous light fixtures are of the vintage, wrought-iron variety. Like a salon-style art gallery show or the tons of mirrors on the walls at traditional French brasseries, Deschutes is covered with tons of gilded frames, some with historic photos of the building and Portland, others with kitschy drawings and artifacts. What I particularly enjoyed was how even the air ducts were enclosed in gilded frames at their wall openings. There is also lots of raw Douglas fir used throughout the space to give it an appropriately rustic feeling without seeming chintzy. This brewpub feels new, but lived in.

The best part of the new Deschutes brewpub, though -- besides their copious supply of Mirror Pond ale -- may be the cornucopia of chain saw carvings on the entry to each dining room. Emmons tells me the artist works without any drawings or guide; he merely creates with his chainsaw in an impromptu fashion the array of owls, goats and other wildlife. I can't say it's the most sophisticated, refined sculpture I've ever encountered. But God help me: I love it. There are actually some pretty delicate, artful carvings to these chainsaw works. Maybe next the guy could do a chainsaw Portlandia, or perhaps a statue of Tom Potter as a going away present.

Meanwhile, look for Emmons Architects to have an increased presence in town. Educated at Harvard's Graduate School of Design, Stuart has long been one of the better architects in town; his Fire Station 1 design competition entry with Hennebery Eddy was terrific, and now the firm is designing a courthouse in Gresham. Gerding Edlen is actually a co-developer of the Deschutes site; here's hoping Emmons may eventually be designing one of their condos when the market comes back. The Deschutes looks terrific, but Stuart should also be doing bigger better jobs than brewpubs - the brilliance of the accompanying chainsaw art not withstanding. Actually, though, can't you just imagine some of this artwork in the lobby of some ultra-modern condo?

Visiting PNCA's 511 Broadway Building

Today I took a tour of the circa-1916 federal building at 511 NW Broadway that is being taken over by the Pacific Northwest College of Art with the school's president, Tom Manley, and communications director Becca Biggs. The tour was a few minutes late getting started, which actually was good news, because after passing through the security x-ray machines, I was free to peruse the ground floor lobby a little bit on my own.

511 is going to be a magnificent space for PNCA, which was evident as soon as I entered the thin but cavernously high-ceilinged lobby. There is marble everywhere, lots of ornate detailing, and even ceiling panels that have tons of artful workmanship put into them. Upstairs doors and door panels are clad in unpainted stained wood; the doors even have these frosted-glass windows that look they should have the name "Philip Marlowe" stenciled on them. And there is lots and lots of space here. PNCA ought to have plenty of room to grow.

Wherever you go in this building there are wonderful little tarnished gems. It looks pretty drab and dreary right now, of course. The building has federal agency offices upstairs and some Department of Immigration services on the ground floor. The main activity in this grand entrance area, though, is chitchatting between security guards, building maintenance and housekeeping staff. Plenty of working offices still remain here; those were off limits. But there are lots of empty rooms and spaces that we were able to see upstairs - dark places with low ceilings walls that will be removed.

Although this is a historic building to which certain strictures will apply in terms of preserving the original structure, it has already been changed numerous times. I believe originally the building was for the Postal Service. Both on the ground floor and upstairs, there seem to be many, many opportunities to knock down walls and raise ceilings. In fact, to do so would appear to better honor the original architecture than the current interiors do. Over time this grand building was made into somewhat drab offices. But the bones here are incredible. In fact, there's plenty of flesh and skin to go along with it.

While it's a big heavy building that will hold its thermal mass well (staying cool in the summer and warm in the winter), and it can seem imposing from the street with a lack of transparency, this is actually meant to be a building teeming with natural light. There are numerous huge skylights that were actually covered during various renovations; all of which, needless to say, will be made back into skylights.

There is also quite a nice view or, to be more specific, many different view corridors and framed looks at Portland. That includes a rooftop that could someday be a spectacular hangout or party spot, and which my tour guides and I got to glimpse for a few minutes. One side looks down on the post office across Hoyt Street and Union Station just across Broadway, with the Broadway Bridge, the Willamette River, and the Pearl District in the background. The other side looks toward downtown. Even though it's really just some leftover space adjacent to the rooftop mechanical systems, this could be a special little place to have a party or woo a potential donor (or both).

Merely a serviceable renovation of this building as a new building for PNCA would be great news for architecture in Portland on its own. It's got a lot of great stuff to keep. But as previously mentioned, the architect for 511's renovation will be Allied Works and Brad Cloepfil, which makes the notion of a modern building emerging from this dusty, hulk of an old building an extra intriguing one. As Manley and I were walking down a marble back stairway talking about what Allied might do, I said, "This could be Wieden + Kennedy 2." Manley corrected me and said, "No, this building has a lot more to the original than the Wieden + Kennedy building ever did." So it will be interesting to see how Brad and Allied bring the building alive and how much of that is just opening and cleaning it up versus introducing certain material or spacial modernity inside as well.

511 occupies a strange presence, or at least it has until now. It's a wonderful early 20th century work of architecture on one of the more prominent streets in the center of the city. Yet because it's been closed to the public for so long and kept a very discreet profile, it seems a whole generation has gone by without even the architecture enthusiasts and practitioners among us noticing much that the building is really there. In a few years, that's going to change in a big way. And with the post office being vacated, freeing up that land to re-development (although hopefully some of the original building stays), with a MAX line soon to be going nearby, this whole area seems poised to really go through a metamorphosis over the next decade.

Of course the Portland Public Market had also sought 511 Broadway as a home for itself, and I hope there is a place for them in this area. That said, having now been inside this grand old building, I don't see it as a place for a public market with produce and salami and artisan goods for sale. As has been bandied about in the comments following some of my previous posts about this issue, I think a better home for the public market would be the current Greyhound station two blocks east of 511 - contingent, of course, on the bus company's willingness to move. Or if not the Greyhound station, it seems there are a lot of other nearby parcels with potential for the market, which I'll bet a lot of hungry PNCA students would like to patronize, as would the condo residents.

And as I understand it, in addition to PNCA being able to renovate the 511 building itself, the back parking lot is eventually going to be converted to a new segment of the North Park Blocks. The budget doesn't appear to be there for it now, but if the funds were to become available, what kind of landscape architectural wonder might be conjured there, between PNCA and a renovated post office site at the new edge of the Park Blocks?

Congratulations, PNCA. You've just won a landmark of a new home, and then some.

PNCA's At It Again: Going From Rent to Own at Cloepfil-Redesigned Goodman Building

It's another week, time for the Pacific Northwest College of Art to secure ownership of major Pearl District real estate at little or no cost. They can't keep it up at this pace, surely, but fresh off the news a few days ago of securing the 511 Broadway building, the school has reached an agreement with the family of the late Edith Goodman, the building's owner, to purchase the school's home since 1997 on an full block between Northwest 12 and 13th Avenues, Johnson and Kearney Streets. The agreement is accompanied by announcement from PNCA of accompanying financial news, summarized thusly (as Alton Brown would say) by DK Row:

The college also publicly launched a historic capital campaign targeting $32 million in pledges by the end of June 2009, when the college celebrates its centennial. The campaign, which has quietly raised $26 million, went public Saturday with the announcement of three lead campaign gifts of $1 million each from PNCA board president Al Solheim, the Harold and Arlene Schnitzer CARE Foundation and the Maybelle Clark MacDonald Fund. The MacDonald donation is a challenge gift, contingent on whether the college raises an additional $3 million.

Renovated a decade ago by Holst Architecture, the Goodman Building has always been a nice environment, I think, particularly its huge open space in the middle. I've been to award ceremonies there, Japanese DJ concerts, a French philosopher's lecture, a design forum, art exhibits, but all the while the renovated old warehouse itself, with its exposed structure and simple white aesthetics, is itself a particularly nice piece of any experience. From an artist's or curator's standpoint in some of the exhibit spaces, maybe there is more that could be done, but I still like the building a lot. And that's before we even talk about the exterior paint job created by Randy Higgins (above), which is a transcription of an Arthur Rimbaud poem into a language of differently sized squares and rectangles.

According to D.K. Row's Oregonian article, Allied Works will oversee design for the $12 million "light" (says PNCA) re-renovation. That's on top of Brad Cloepfil's firm already being selected by PNCA for the 511 Broadway building (pictured at left). So in effect, for all of the huge commissions that Allied has received over the past several years, for art museums in St. Louis, New York, Seattle, Ann Arbor and Denver, not to mention the Wieden & Kennedy job before those, PNCA will be the Cloepfil client with repeat business for his firm. And though it may not be for a few years, I'm betting PNCA isn't done acquiring buildings with these two, wonderful a foundation (pardon the pun) as they may be. How about a ground-up building for PNCA on some of the post office's surface parking lot in the back? Or perhaps something further north, out by the Fremont Bridge and Centennial Mill?

Artist Hub on 82nd: Visiting Milepost 5

If developers Ted Gilbert and Beam Development, the architects at Works Partnership and creative director Gavin Shettler have anything to say about it, 82nd Avenue in Portland may no longer be seen as the armpit of Portland with its an unpleasant melange of traffic, big-box chain stores and prostitutes.

Recently I made the trek out to 82nd near Burnside to see Milepost 5, an ambitious but welcome live-work development intended for artists and other creative types. The  development consists of two renovated buildings: a new just completed structure designed by Works that consists of for-sale loft condos and work space, and a to-be-renovated old brick retirement home next door, Baptist Manor, that will offer rental units to live and work in. Both the old and new structures will also endeavor to create a strong sense of community and collaboration.

The completed building by Works provides the best eye candy, and it's where I'd want to live. But older Manor building has lots of spaces with tremendous potential, such as a huge industrial-sized kitchen, and immediately adjacent to it a former church sanctuary, complete with pews, that would make a terrific screening room. There's also a wrap-around courtyard that the kitchen looks out onto, which would make a great restaurant with outdoor seating.

I don't think a painting or sculpture is required as proof when one signs the lease or mortgage agreement, but it's easy to imagine a group of young, creative people here -- some staying for many years and others just passing through. Most of the for-sale units are somewhat affordable, too. A 443-square foot loft spaces starts at $134,995, although naturally it's on the east side of the building, which sits on busy 82nd. Milepost 5 does look out on a lovely park, though. And for those considering such a dwelling but iffy about the location (I sure would be), keep in mind that the place is just a few blocks from the 82nd Avenue Max station.

The hiring of Gavin Shettler, who for the last few years led the nonprofit but now defunct Portland Art Center, is particularly nice to see. Shettler will be exhibiting art in several of the uninhabited units each month, and he'll also organize a lot of other events there. It's great to see him having landed on his feet after the unfortunate PAC closing. Kudos should also go to Gilbert, commissioner Sam Adams and others behind the scene making this happen.

If you move into the for-rent older building, though, where there are 70 years of history as a retirement home, be prepared for the occasional ghost. While Shettler and I toured the space, one room had a locked door and the audible sound of a TV inside. Everyone has long since moved out and there weren't any employees scheduled to work that day. I half expected Jack Nicholson to peek his head through the door and say, "Heeeeerrr's Johnny!" Considering this is an artists' enclave now, I fully expect this to be put to creative purposes.

More On Midcentury Modern

Last Friday felt like a class in midcentury architecture condensed into two hours. Which, in a way, it was.

First came a presentation from Becca Cavell at Thomas Hacker Architects and then I participated in a panel discussion with architect Paul Falsetto, realtor Bob Zaikoski and Becca about preserving midcentury modern architecture, moderated by architect Peter Meijer.

She cautioned the audience that she’s not a preservation expert. But her Powerpoint slideshow was based on a class she taught at the University of Oregon about the roots of the ‘Northwest Style’ of residential architecture embodied by Pietro Belluschi, John Yeon, and others.

As many architects know, those roots go back to early haciendas of Mexican culture, with their courtyard arrangements. The original ranch houses, built for actual ranches, was similarly often of a wrap-around, rectangular design open at one end but enclosed on three sides to keep cattle out. This plan helped inform the midcentury modern residential sides that were being adapted to orient themselves around the carports/garages and back yards of the post-World War II family, as seen in the work of architects like William Worster Wurster and even nontraditional sources like Sunset magazine and Sears.

A brief aside about the word modern: As has been discussed in comments to the preview post I wrote a few days ago, the term midcentury modern is in some ways an oxymoron, because the mid-20th century is now a piece of history, not to be confused with something from today. This gets confusing because today’s contemporary architecture is often similarly styled to mid-20th century modernism. I think of the word modern within the phrase midcentury modern to denote not something contemporary and of today, but more like the general term modernism as it relates to a vast spectrum of art, literature and music that first took root as a reaction to World War I but really took off after WWII.

When somebody says modern art, people usually understand that could mean Mark Rothko or Piet Mondrian, artists working many decades ago. That’s why the Portland Art Museum’s Jubitz Center is for ‘Modern and Contemporary Art’. Even though in a more literal sense they seem to mean the same thing, in common parlance they don’t.

Or, as Paul Falsetto put it more succinctly during our panel discussion, midcentury modern usually refers to an architectural style that flourished from about 1935-65.

Our panel discussion was, unlike Becca’s talk, more about commercial midcentury buildings than houses. Panelist Paul Falsetto did a good job of breaking down the inherent difficulty with preserving architecture from this era.

On one hand, something like 80% of America’s building stock consists of buildings constructed after World War II. So there is a very plentiful amount of architecture from the mid-20th century. But we all seemed to agree that not all of it should be preserved. When midcentury modern architecture is at its best, as in the work of Mies Van Der Rohe or a couple of our local midcentury architects, it’s as compelling as any architecture in human history. However, when it’s bad, these simplistic buildings are the worst, the ugliest.

Worse yet, many commercial midcentury buildings are in terrible shape precisely at the place that gives them most of their signature style: the exterior skin. Take Pietro Belluschi’s Equitable Building here in Portland at SW Sixth and Stark. Completed in 1946, it was the first building in the world with a sleek continuous aluminum and glass skin. If you see a photo of that building when it first opened, with 1940s cars driving by and men in fedoras, it looks like something out of The Jetsons. But aluminum and glass don’t provide very good weatherization for a lot of the buildings from this era. Energy was cheap in the mid-20th century, so they could just blast the buildings with air conditioning. But a half-century later, many of them are falling apart. Belluschi’s building isn’t really one of them. He knew how to build things solidly even with these newer materials that brought a sense of lightness. But so many other midcentury buildings all over the country are in serious disrepair, at least on their exteriors. Becca cited the example of a building at Sixth and Oak being renovated by SERA Architects into a hotel. Right now the skin is completely gone and the building is stripped down to its concrete floors and columns. The bones of the building were seemingly in fine shape, but energy costs probably necessitated the cost of rebuilding an entirely new exterior façade.

One person in the audience made an important point about preservation. Often it’s not the generation right afterward that appreciates a historical period’s architecture, but the one afterward. We’re saving a few important midcentury buildings, but plenty more are beginning to fall by the wayside. Even as people who love midcentury modern architecture, we on the panel all seemed okay with that. But should we be? Or is being realistic about the overall stock of these buildings going down the only way to look at it? I think all of us on the panel were being sensible, but if we’re not being extremist about preservation, who will be?

Visiting Pietro Belluschi's Burkes House

Last week I had the distinct treat of visiting not only a Pietro Belluschi-designed house in the West Hills, but one that the late great architect lived in through his final days. The Burkes House is actually still occupied by Belluschi’s widow, Marjorie, who graciously allowed their grandson Jeff to take me on a tour. It was conceived in 1944 for a Dr. and Mrs. DC Burkes, but built in 1947 after wartime restrictions on building materials were lifted.

Like a lot of homes associated with the mid-20th century ‘Northwest Style’ (those by Belluschi, John Yeon, Van Evra Bailey and developer Robert Rummer), the orientation is not toward the home’s entrance, where we pulled into an old-school carport. Once you step inside, though, there is great attention paid to the spectacular view of downtown Portland as well as to the courtyard-like enclosed back yard.

The view itself would be enough to sell most anyone on this house, but soon even the panorama of buildings, hills, roads and changing clouds you can see from nearly floor to ceiling glass gives away to the house itself. There is such a feeling of connection between inside and outside at Belluschi’s Burke House. The wood ceiling, for example, extends continuously past the glass walls outside as an overhang, yet the material doesn’t change. So whether you’re looking towards the downtown view or the other way towards the back yard, it seems like there is merely a glass partition between two of the house’s spaces that just happen to be indoor and outdoor.

Born in Italy, Belluschi was, despite being a Modernist architect, trained in Old World building and craftsmanship. So while the house’s design has a tremendous lightness to it, in the way one appreciates about modern architecture, there is also a clear sense of this house coming from an architect with an acute sense of structure and materials.

As Jeff Belluschi (who is quite the amateur scholar regarding his grandfather’s career) reminded me, wood provided Pietro with a kind of epiphany. His Italian forebears built with heavy stone and masonry. Wood allowed Belluschi to favor a lightness that old buildings could never pull off, but he also knew enough to let the exquisitely warm and natural texture to come through.

Not only was it a wonderful treat to talk with Marge and Jeff about Pietro, but I also was able to visit the architect’s former office, which has been left largely untouched save for a flat-screen TV that Marge happy watches CNN on. His T-square hangs over Belluschi’s old and surprisingly little desk by the window. (Belluschi’s drafting table is now kept at the AIA/Portland Center for Architecture.) And while there aren’t any mementos to his extraordinary achievements as an architect in the rest of the house, here in his old office hangs Belluschi’s 1972 Gold Medal from the American Institute of Architects (the medal represents a kind of hall-of-fame for the truly cream-of-the-crop all time great architects), as well as his 25-Year Award, also from the AIA, for the Equitable Building downtown – the world’s first modern office building with aluminum cladding.

One of my favorite features of the house is now gone: There used to be a koi goldfish pond outside in the back yard that Belluschi actually extended via an underground tunnel into the house itself. So fish could actually swim in and out of two ponds: one inside and one outside. But according to Marge, the fish still couldn’t avoid being snatched up by local raccoons, so they removed the pond.

Another, more practical element I love, though is still there: Throughout the house, folding out of the wall like a series of trap doors are numerous air vents that let you bring in natural ventilation without even opening the windows. This isn’t unique to Belluschi; I’ve seen it in John Yeon’s houses as well. But it’s symbolic of the many lovely little design touches in these midcentury Northwest Modern homes.

Thanks again to Jeff and Marjorie Belluschi for allowing me to see what is undoubtedly one of the absolute gems of local Portland architecture. It’s unfortunate that a private home won’t ever be seen by many people, even if it ends up being on some future home tour. But as far as I’m concerned, we have our own local version of Philip Johnson’s Glass House or Mies Van Der Rohe’s Farnsworth House (two name two other classics) right here.

PDC Evaluation Committee Chooses LAB Holding For Centennial Mills

Late Tuesday afternoon has come word from the Portland Development Commission from its Centennial Mills Evaluation Committee that LAB Holding of Costa Mesa, California is the recommended development team - the winner in a three team race against developers Nitze-Stagen of Seattle and the Cordish Company of Baltimore to turn around this decaying local landmark.

You can read the press release here, but it doesn't say too much yet about the decision. Before reading any comments coming up in Wednesday's papers, I'd assume the less ambitious, and therefore less costly, nature of the LAB proposal weighed in the developers' favor given the downturning economy and so forth. One would assume the Nitze-Stagen proposal finished second. I know The Oregonian's editors and numerous commenters here felt strongly that the Nitze-Stagen proposal, including a design team led by Zimmer Gunsul Frasca, was a good one. I also remember hearing more than one person say they weren't blown away by LAB's proposal in person several days ago. I'm still not completely sure which of these two I favored. Nitze-Stagen and ZGF seemed to have the highest quality plan, but maybe it was a little too ambitious. I'm not necessarily displeased to think that the original Centennial Mills buildings will seemingly be more prominent now that the LAB proposal has been chosen.

What's next? PDC says: "Executive Director Warner will now present the recommendation to the PDC Board of Commissioners at the March 26 Commission Meeting. If the Board approves the recommendation, PDC and LAB Holding, LLC will begin negotiation toward a Disposition and Development Agreement." So speak to the Board or forever hold your peace (except in cyberspace).

Of course as we've learned with projects like Burnside Bridgehead, all this may be moot anyway. We may be several years from seeing something completed there. And if something does get built, the design may change along the way. In fact, that's certain. It's only a question of how much.

In the days ahead, we'll want to look back on this process and whether it was a successful one. How do people feel so far?

One other caveat: It's not a done deal that the PDC board will go along with the evaluation committee's decision. In the case of Burnside Bridgehead, for example, they rejected the decision and went with Opus Northwest over Beam Construction, the latter of which was, if I remember correctly, the committee's recommendation. However, I think it's more likely this time around that the board will agree with the committee, because the board is more apt, as they were with the Bridgehead, to be financially minded -- and the LAB proposal is much less ambitious in terms of what it would ask of public investment and what would be physically built there.

And aside from what was the most appropriate decision for PDC to make given economic and other realities, which plan was best from a pure design standpoint?

PNCA Lands 511 Broadway Building From Feds

The US Department of Education and the General Services Administration have approved the Pacific Northwest College of Art's application to acquire the heretofore federal building at 511 NW Broadway.

This is a big win for PNCA, which will stretch its campus from the Pearl District in to Old Town and, along the way, put a much bigger stamp on Portland's culture. PNCA is quickly becoming the RISD (Rhode Island School of Design) of the West Coast.

The 511 project is also noteworthy in that it could finally provide another opportunity for Brad Cloepfil and Allied Works to participate in a hometown project. Cloepfil has already worked on PNCA's master planning. I mean, why wouldn't they hire him for 511? Besides, 511 could be a similar opportunity to Cloepfil's Wieden + Kennedy building: a historic structure that has a modern, light-filled interior.

This also puts NW Broadway itself on a higher plane in terms of this ugly but important stretch of real estate's future. Some developers have been waiting for a silly one-way couplet on Burnside and Couch to jump-start their projects. (The boarded up Burger King, anyone?) It seems very possible that this street, with the 511 building and the recently opened DeSoto building (home to several galleries), is about to be transformed.

The feds' decision may also be a blow to the Portland Public Market, which also sought 511 as a home. I hope this doesn't bring the market closer to relocating into Union Station itself, which doesn't seem right to me. Where can we put the produce? I liked one commenter's suggestion to a previous blog post of mine: Put the public market in Memorial Coliseum and make it a retail hub (although not for big-box stores).

Meanwhile, fresh on the heels of their Idea Studios that brought James Turrell and Jacques Rancierre here, PNCA has followed a couple of singles with a home run.

Surface Parking Lot Magnate Eyes Historic Downtown Building For Demolition

Greg Goodman, whose City Center Parking company owns several undeveloped surface parking lots in the downtown area, has made a request to the Historic Landmarks Commission for permission to demolish a building he owns listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

Built in 1917, the Auto Rest building at Southwest 10th Avenue and Salmon Street is owned by another of Goodman's companies Pegg Properties. It's the little brick building with Bee Cleaners across from the Bike Gallery and the new Northwest Film Center headquarters.

According to the report I read by Nathalie Weinstein in the Daily Journal of Commerce, the Historic Landmarks Commission was to have considered the request yesterday, March 10. Does anyone know if there was a decision made?

Regardless of the decision, though, it's disappointing that Goodman would target a historic building for development -- according to the DJC, he wants to build an office, condos or a hotel -- when he already owns several surface parking lots downtown. Naturally, a surface parking lot would constitute a better candidate for development than a nearly century-old building. I'm sure Goodman's company has its reasons, such as location being more preferable at the 10th & Salmon site, or whatever. But if you follow architecture in Portland, it seems pretty clear that Goodman is not acting with the best interest of our built environment in mind.

I don't want to vilify the guy or speak of his last name being an oxymoron, but how is it supposed to seem when there are these eyesores all over town in the form of surface parking lots you own, and you want to build something only where there's a historic building in the way?

The 10th & Salmon building isn't any architectural masterpiece, but it's a nice little piece of Portland's urban fabric. Obviously this is an era when the skyline is growing rapidly with big condos and offices. That makes little structures like this one all the more important as foothills to the mountains.

It was an encouraging move a year or two ago when Goodman announced that his company would begin developing their downtown surface lots. Their partnership with Gerding Edlen Development and Zimmer Gunsul Frasca on the 12th & Washington tower is seemingly going to result in a very nice building. It would be a shame for that to be undermined by Goodman's effort to demolish Portland's architectural history when there are numerous undeveloped downtown properties already in his portfolio.

The Historic Landmarks Commission has been subject to mounting criticism over the last couple years as it takes on more development projects, many of which have been modern buildings that the commission took issue with. This time around, though, the design community may be looking toward the HLC to take action, not to withhold it. But does the Landmarks Commission have the teeth (or, perhaps more appropriately, the dentures) and the will to stop one of the city's most quietly powerful landowners?

And even if the Auto Rest building gets saved, or Goodman backs off, what does this say about his company's attitude toward historic buidings?

The Governor and The Sliver

Today on a walk downtown,  I happened upon two spruced up old buildings with goings on.

The Governor Hotel on SW Tenth Avenue, across from the Galleria building, is coming upon its 100th anniversary. To celebrate, the hotel is having an open house this Sunday, March 9, from 12:30 to 4:30PM. It's a chance to see inside places you'd normally have to pay for, in the form of overnight lodging.

Built in 1909, the Governor was originally called the Seward Hotel and was designed by William Knighton, who also was the first State Architect for the State of Oregon.

As explained in a history of the hotel on its website, "The Seward featured Knighton's signature details still seen in the ornate art deco 'gargoyles' that surround the original building's facade and the bell-shaped architectural details seen throughout the hotel's original woodwork, column panels and even fireplace mantles."

In its more downtrodden days before its renovation, filmmaker Gus Van Sant shot a scene or two from his superlative movie My Own Private Idaho with River Phoenix and Keanu Reeves (and Tom Peterson in a non-speaking role; no Gloria, though). Several scenes from the rapturously bad Madonna movie Body of Evidence were too (hope those hot candle wax stains came out).

Not to be outdone, the adjacent Princeton Building, which the hotel took over a few years ago, also played host as a location for The Temp, a more forgettable movie with Timothy Hutton, unofficial 'Actress of the 70s' Faye Dunaway, Twin Peaks' Lara Flynn Boyle, and a character actor I like, Oliver Platt.

As I've written before, though, I was disappointed a few years ago when the Governor Hotel moved its entrance to the Princeton Building side on 11th Avenue. It brought them more space, but shoulnd't you really enter the Governor through the Governor?

Still, overall I'm very glad the hotel exists as a work of architecture -- and one of the city's minor gems, to say the very least. I also have a fond memory of once, several years ago, having breakfast with the now deceased architect James Freed, designer of the Holocaust Museum in Washington, DC after he spoke at a lecture series I helped work on for the AIA in 2001.

A few blocks away at the Gerding Theater, formerly known as the Portland Armory, the renovated structure finally seems to be getting its 'Sliver Park', a water feature and plantings along the north side. Designed by Murase Associates, it's a nice little water runoff retention system that relies on a few simple stone blocks and a modest series of waterfalls created by how that side of the building grades slighty downward towards 10th. (Coincidentally, the Armory was another renovation project that moved its front entrance to the back.)

There are still a couple of orange cones there, and the plantings have barely grown at all yet. But my first impression is that it's a lovely little place, however not even close to being a "park". We're talking about a couple of benches, a bioswale and a few long slabs of stone with a tiny strip of moving water. It's a terrific sidewalk area - just not a park. Looks to me like some nice design work and some over-hyped marketing. And while I'm griping about this nicely done project, what took so long? After all, the building was finished quite a while ago. Still, if there's anything Murase projects do well, it's creating a serene, contemplative space. Perhaps that's a fitting indication not to quabble over details of timing and labeling that will eventually wash away over time like the very rainwater (sniff, sniff) passing through the sliver's stone and bioswale.

Appalling Architectural Sin at Central Lutheran Church

In today's Oregonian, Tom Hallman reports on a horrible situation regarding one of the great Pietro Belluschi's most important works that I and the rest of the architectural community should have been on top of awhile ago.

Belluschi, as most readers know, is by far the most significant architect Portland has ever produced. His Equitable Building downtown was the world's first modern glass-and-aluminum clad office building. His Portland Art Museum design counted Frank Lloyd Wright among its biggest fans. He also co-designed New York's Julliard School at Lincoln Center and, with the legendary Walter Gropius, the landmark Pan-Am building.

Local churches are, along with single-family homes, some of Belluschi's most important local landmarks. And no other Portland church is more significant architecturally than Central Lutheran. Of particular note was its distinctive bell tower, a series crisscrossing wood stacked boxes that celebrates the natural materials of the Northwest and incorporates simple, elegant modernism into an ecclesiastical context with exceptional visual, sculptural poetry. Belluschi made a beautiful modern temple to God.

And in 2005, fearing the bell tower's deferred maintenance (dry rot had set in) might cause it to fall down, Central Lutheran's leaders actually defied historic preservation laws and demolished the tower.

Granted, it's mostly a financial issue. The church had spent over a million dollars renovating when they realized the tower needed fixing or replacing. They were told it would cost at least $150,000 to do so. And meanwhile, historic preservation laws were in place to prevent them from tearing down this important piece of architecture.

So you know what they did? They ignored the law that said, "Thou shall not desecrate a hugely important work of architecture by Portland's greatest architect of all time," and just did it anyway.

I would be less angry and more sympathetic towards Central Lutheran if not for this: In Hallman's article today, the church leaders actually complained that their structure is bound by historic preservation laws. "What were they going to do," one church member said to Hallman, "fine a church?"

Well, what other alternative does the city have? Should we let religious institutions get away with spitting in the face of local architecture and then telling us we're wrong for caring about preserving the city's most important landmarks?

I'm so frustrated that a church, a place that is supossed to be a community gathering place that represents the best in all of us -- our greatest good will and humility and the enduring bonds between us -- would be so unbelievably self centered. Don't they realize that their church will still be there, and will still be important to Portland, long after every single member of that congregation is gone? That's a responsibility they're not only denying, but complaining that we should hold them to.

This is the second time in a year that a local church has shown an absolutely appalling lack of concern for the architecture entrusted to their care. Last year First Christian Church bulldozed the historic Rosefriend Apartments downtown so they could build a ginormous half-block condo with acres of underground parking. Their leadership was actually quoted as saying they were in the business of saving souls, not buildings. Well, even though I believe in God, I would never, ever set foot in any church that displays that kind of attitude about the historic buildings in its community, especially the very architecture they've been entrusted with watching over. Talk about robbing Peter to pay Paul!

Ultimately, of course, we shouldn't scold Central Lutheran Church but help them instead. Two years ago, back when this architectural catastrophe first happened, we in the architecture and design community should have gotten actively involved with the church trying to raise money to restore the Belluschi-designed tower.

Considering the millions of dollars being invested in condos and offices all over Portland, or $100 million being donated for a basketball arena (although it is for my beloved Ducks), we as a community should be able to help Central Lutheran come up with $150,000 to fix the tower.

Because it's our tower as much as Central Lutheran's.

And with respect to the media, it's very unfortunate that I and so many others are only reading about this when there's the controversy of the church potentially being fined by the city. Why can't we in the media be out in front of these stories, warning about a fire about to start instead of just reporting on the flames?

Whether it's the American Institute of Architects (a sponsor of this site), the Architectural Foundation of Oregon, or a grassroots effort, we need to get to work on fixing Belluschi's tower at the church Central Lutheran inhabits. And while I am certainly a sinner myself, like virtually anyone, the leadership of Central Lutheran needs to get down on their knees, asking God and Pietro Belluschi up in architects' heaven for forgiveness.

Memorial Coliseum Again FacesThreat, Possibility

As reported in today's Oregonian by Ryan Frank and Brent Hunsberger, the Trail Blazers have decided to revisit the idea of redeveloping the Rose Quarter area. That, the report says, could include retrofitting or demolishing the Coliseum.

It's true that the Rose Quarter is a dismal place unless there's a Blazer game happening, and even then it's only because of the game. At the same time, one of the city's biggest transit centers is here, so it would be good for the city for this area to be used more efficiently and smartly.

The successful recent Davis Cup match at the Coliseum not withstanding, it seems like overkill both in terms of function and in terms of architectural scale to have two large arenas sitting next to each other. But for virtually any architectural enthusiast, the Coliseum is a far more elegant, attractive and historic building than the larger, newer Rose Garden. It was designed in 1960 by Skidmore, Owings & Merrill at the height of their mid-20th Century prowess, and the glass enclosure gives the Coliseum a wonderful transparency that few other arenas can even come close to.

The above photograph was taken by the legendary architectural photographer Julius Shulman and is from the book Modernism Rediscovered. Inside, Pierluigi Serraino writes of how the building's roof system of steel trusses on four concrete columns produces a 270x240-foot clear span of glass. As a result, the structurally independent arena is "completely contained within a glass box patterened with 78-foot high wooden mullions". This is easily the most impressive glass structure in the city.

And speaking of history, remember that Memorial Coliseum is where the Trail Blazers won the 1977 NBA championship. It's also where The Beatles played their only Portland concert. We're talking sacred ground here.

I was disappointed to read in Frank and Hunsberger's article that Commissioner Randy Leonard has gone on record saying "he could support razing the Coliseum as long as another appropriate veterans' memorial was erected on the site." Even though veterans should indeed be honored, the memorial at Memorial Coliseum is the least special and unique thing about the place. We could easily replace that memorial. We can't replace the exquisite architecture of the arena.

There have in past years been ideas about how to renovate and renew the Coliseum, from the awful, very un-Portland idea of making it a big-box retailer to the very fine idea to make it an amateur sports Mecca. The latter plan, though, depended on a huge grant from McDonald's billionaire Roy Kroc's widow that was up for grabs at the time. That money is long gone, but why not revisit that idea with a new revenue stream?

There also could, and arguably should, be a housing and office presence somewhere within the Rose Quarter. That's the only way it will have life beyond a few events at the Rose Garden.

How about a design competition to generate new ideas for the facility? It could be an 'ideas competition' and non binding in terms of building. But between tearing down one of the most loved structures in Portland and turning it into a Home Depot, there has to be a third way that we can get behind - something that's a slam dunk.

Yeon Exhibit In Final Days(His Influence, Ongoing)

Bob Hicks has a great piece in The Oregonian today about John Yeon that serves as a good reminder of the "In the Land of Influence" exhibit continuing through tomorrow evening at the new AIA/Portland Center for Architecture.

Hicks recently retired from full-time editorial duties at the paper after a decades-long tenure there, but as he proved countless times over the years, he can write insightfully about anything arts related. About a decade ago, at my first daytime critics screening to review a movie for Willamette Week, Bob was there reviewing it on pinch-hit duty for Shawn Levy's Oregonian review team. It's great to see him still contributing to the paper, writing about Yeon:

"Drive around particular parts of the Pacific Northwest — Ecola State Park on Oregon's north coast, say, or the Columbia River Gorge, or even the platoons of lockstep McMansions that march like conquering soldiers over the fallen body of the region's exurban land — and you can hear the whisper of John Yeon: a whisper of what is, what is not, what shouldn't be and what might have been in his corner of the Earth..."

"A modernist, he created structures that in certain ways were the antithesis of the International Style — buildings that took their very being from the landscape they sat upon, striving not to subdue it but to become part of it. The hallmark of a Yeon house was its beguiling combination of serene majesty and humility, an essence derived from simplicity of line and an unswerving sense of place."

In an unusual twist, tomorrow's First Thursday gallery walk will serve as the closing-night party for the Yeon exhibit at the CFA. (Incidentally, that's the Swann House pictured above.) The facility was a little late in finishing construction, which happens and is understandable. But unfortunately it has made this a shorter exhibit than it deserved. So if you're perusing the Pearl on Thursday night (I also recommend Hap Tivey's light sculptures at the nearby Elizabeth Leach Gallery), be sure and stop in.

Reaching For a Bad Move: Housing Nonprofit Threatens Classic Interstate Motel Sign (Updated)

It wouldn't be much of a stretch to call North Interstate Avenue Portland's version of Route 66, the classic mid-20th Century motorway that has inspired many a romantic ode and cable TV documentary. It's not to say this is the open road, which was part of Route 66's mystique. But the other half of Sixty-Sixiana is the style of its accompanying motor hotels.

Local filmmaker/artist Matt McCormick devoted half of his aclaimed show earlier this year at Elizabeth Leach Gallery to a slideshow of old motel signs in the southwest, and seeing the succession of them, with names conjuring the space age, tropical motifs, or cowboy mythology, they seemed like western America's own version of Easter Island statues.

I've rarely heard anyone in Portland speak specifically to the minor treasure of old motel and other business signs. In almost every case they aren't preserved. We saw it recently with the old Cornford's market sign (lots of big painted fruit) along Martin Luther King Boulevard near the Morrison Bridge terminus. But I think Interstate is really the strongest example of signs from a particular era, style, and building type (motels) being congregated in a particular area.

In today's Oregonian, Michael Bales reported that Reach Community Development, which is demolishing the former Crown Motel on Interstate to build an affordable housing complex--certainly an understandable and worthy endeavor in and of itself--also plans to demolish the iconic sign out front, with a neon crown reading "Crown" and a giant neon sword interlocking the word MOTEL. Bales quotes Riad Sahli, housing project manager from Reach, as saying the old sign doesn't fit the design of the new complex.

As architect Stuart Emmons of Emmons Architects (who authored a series of redevelopment planning options for the Portland Development Commission and the Bureau of Planning) put it in a tersely worded mass email that I and several other people in media and local goverment received today, if this wonderful kitschy old relic of the early post-World War II era doesn't fit, that's the fault of the new design, not the sign. Why not design an affordable housing complex that does everything it otherwise would in terms of fulfilling program and meeting functional needs, but also has a stylistic element recalling old motor hotels? It'd be a no brainer to name the new project Crown Condos, or Crown Apartments, or whatever. The MOTEL portion of the sign could perhaps be changed to fit the new owners, like the White Stag sign in old town was several years ago changed to Made In Oregon when the latter moved into the building.

Making it even worse is that Reach is a nonprofit. It'd be one thing if a private developer was dumb enough to discard a branding opportunity being handed over on a silver platter in favor of some other profit-motive-driven decision. But for goodness sake, Reach even has "Community Development" as part of its name. To me that includes not letting local pieces of our built history--which would not get in the way of the programmatic needs of their new, otherwise admirable affordable housing project--be trampled on their watch, and on their land.

TriMet chose Reach for the five-story project to help spur use of the Interstate MAX line. I can't help but think of the investment the agency made in public art along the line, and how these old motel signs are every bit as unique and pleasing to the public - arguably more. I mean, very very little contemporary public art seems to achieve widespread appeal. But people love these old motel signs. Midcentury modern is even super hot stylistically right now.

It's too early to start getting angry at Reach, because there's still lots of time for them to reverse their decision and come to their senses. Like I said, this is not just something they should feel compelled to do because of public pressure. This is a wonderful opportunity for them to preserve what's right in front of them in a way that scores big points with the public. Might some nice, glowing PR for this little nonprofit be nice? Hell, you could even replace MOTEL on the old sign with REACH. Even an egotistical move like that would be far better than destroying and/or removing it. Come on, Reach, please don't be stupid, and please don't turn an opportunity into a reason for people to advocate that you not get the next such development contract that comes around.

Meanwhile, I think this is more than enough reason to take more seriously the remaining Interstate motel signs and figure out how to preserve them, whether that's through private means, public, or a combination of both.

Actually driving down this one-time highway, Interstate Avenue, now that the MAX line is there can be very aggravating. I mean, one lane in each direction? I love the train, but sure wish the design could have been done to preserve a very much needed second lane in each direction on this major arterial local avenue. But at least we still have the chance to make something artful and historically preserved for future generations out of these signs.

Affordable housing along a light rail line is something we should all be cheering for. Let's keep it that way by preserving the Crown sign and all its remaining neon siblings. (Incidentally, my personal favorite is the Palms motel sign. I even have a silscreened artwork by Robert Mars of it hanging on my kitchen.) If not Easter Island monoliths, maybe you could say these are the man-made equivalents of old growth timbers. Either way, I think plenty of people in town would be just as happy to hug these hunks of rusty aluminum.

UPDATE 12/27/07: At a reader's suggestion, I am adding to this original post the comments of a couple different relevant government people as well as the architect involved. This is somewhat of an experiment, because I'm not completely sure about elevating their comments in this way over those of others participating in the dialog. We'll see...

"As the architect of the new affordble housing project, I love the Interstate signs and we could easily incorporate the sign into the design of the building and would be happy to do it if it made sense. However the project will house very low income families with children. REACH beleives that the existing crown motel sign with its large sword plus its association with the motel that has been a place of illicit activity and a nuisance to the neighbors for many years is an innappropriate label for poor children. REACH has been working very hard to find another business or group who wants to preserve the sign and is willing to help in any way, but so far have found no takers. They are still trying."

--Posted by: Kurt Schultz, SERA Architects

"I am TriMet's project manager for the Crown Motel demolition. We have specified in the demolition contract that the sign is to remain intact. This has always been the case, and there are no plans by TriMet to demolish this sign. I have been told that there is a neighborhood group working to find a new home for this sign."

--Posted by: Nick Stewart

"We do in fact have two areas in the City of Portland where we've identified signs as playing a particular role in linking to a signficant past. These areas - the Broadway area through downtown, and Chinatown - are replete with specific regulation which support retention of particular sign types, and encourage future signs to be similarly scaled and graphically adventurous."

"As the interstate area is undergoing a revisitation of some of its zoning and associated design guidelines, there's an intent and opportunity to do the same for the sign ensemble being discussed here."

--Posted by: Jeff Joslin , Land Use Manager, Bureau of Development Services

I would like to clarify that it has never been REACH’s intent to demolish the neon sign.  We were selected by Tri Met to redevelop the existing Crown Motel property into a new mixed use affordable housing project. We worked very closely with the neighborhood on the design of the building, and have earned their approval for the project.  Early on, we heard from a small group of neighbors expressing concern over the sign and a wish to see it preserved.  Since then, we have worked trying to find a new home for the sign.

Our position has been and continues to be that we are happy and willing to work with any interested party to find an appropriate home for the sign.  There are a number of legitimate reasons the sign cannot be reused on this site, including:

• The budget for the project does not allow for the sign to be reused on the current site.  The economics of deal are already stressed and reusing the sign would likely result in loss of building space, meaning less affordable housing for low-income families (a high public policy priority), and less density (a requirement of the RFP).   
• The sign is in bad condition and will require significant restoration budget which isn’t available to us.
• The motel and the sign are associated with crime. Our concern is not so much that the sword and crown symbolize violence, but contextually, that the sign is a ponderous reminder of the drug dealing, prostitution, and other criminal activity that has occurred on that site over the past several decades. By eliminating the sign from the project, the stigma of the motel is diminished.

I’m glad the recent press has helped get word out to a larger audience we weren’t previously reaching, including the Atomic Age Alliance.  We look forward to working with you to salvage this piece of Portland’s history – please keep me apprised of any ideas your group generates and keep in mind that demolition of the motel is scheduled to begin towards the end of February or early March.

Riad Sahli
Housing Project Manager, REACH CDC

The "Other" Wells Fargo Building at 100

When one hears the name “Wells Fargo Building” in Portland, thoughts usually go to the downtown’s tallest structure, sitting just south of City Hall and clad with white granite in a minimalist style.

But there’s another work in town that shares the name Wells Fargo Building. In fact, it’s called Portland’s first skyscraper, and is celebrating its 100th anniversary this year.

Situated at 309 SW Sixth Avenue, the building was commissioned by the bank and designed by architect Benjamin Wistar Morris III, a native Oregonian working in New York City. The 12-story building was jointly occupied by Wells Fargo, Southern Pacific Railroad and Oregon Railway & Navigation. Here’s some more info about the building from the press release:

“The building was designed to evoke the Second Renaissance Revival style. Terracotta was the favored material for most large, commercial structures built during Portland’s era of rapid growth, as it was fireproof, lightweight and relatively inexpensive. Decorative terra-cotta blocks adorn the crown of the building—artisans created these blocks by pressing fine clay into plaster molds and then glazing, drying and firing them. Along with glazed terra-cotta exterior sheathing, gray granite plinths were used on the ground-floor level and limestone sheathing was used on the second and third floors; buff-colored brick was laid in decorative diamond-and-cross patterns; the roof was lined with a prominent copper cornice, a terra-cotta parapet and dentils.”

“Combining elements of Victorian and classical Italian architecture, the Wells Fargo façades stand out with unique compositional elements, colors and materials. The windows and door frames of the two-story street level arches are trimmed with cast iron; the upper floors have sets of double-hung wood sash windows.”

I’ve always loved the combination of early 20th Century buildings and modern ones from a few decades later. In this case, the name Wells Fargo represents both. I’m not nearly as negative towards the tall modern Wells Fargo building, which to many represents the epitome of behemoth Brutalism that supplanted itself in countless downtowns without concern for local architectural contexts. To me it’s a big minimalist granite sculpture that anchors the downtown with its height and simple palette. But it’s also true that the smaller-scaled buildings like the circa-1907 Wells Fargo Building, along with structures here by A.E. Doyle and other early 20th century architects, are an unqualified local treasure.

Doorknobs and Stained Glass:Visiting Old Portland

Several years ago (back when he was on NBC) I remember David Letterman reading a Top 10 list of rejected Jeopardy! categories. Along with titles like "Things That Ooze" and "Things That Only I Know", I remember one of the fake categories was "Doorknob Lore".

Bret Hodgert would probably do well at that last category. He's the proprietor of a new architectural hardware and salvage shop on Southeast Division and 41st I visited a few days ago. Like vintage clothing, Portland has long been a place where you could find lots of fun old architectural items, whether it's at The Rebuilding Center, Rejuvenation, or even some of the older hardware stores. Hodgert's place isn't nearly as big as some, but it's a fun place to browse - almost like a museum of century-old lamps, doors, chandeliers, windows and, yes, doorknobs.

Hodgert has a secret he won't tell: where he gets all these pristine Victorian and other old home hardware and housewares. His one tip-off is that he regularly visits towns in the Midwest, where there are sadly countless old homes in disrepair with valuable old parts most likely to end up at the dump, unless somebody like him rides in to the rescue.

One of my favorites in the shop is a stained glass piece with grapes in the center. Surely it's a religious thing more than a drink thing - water into wine and such. But some winery really ought to shell out the bucks for this piece - it's gorgeous, and would make an ideal centerpiece at somebody's tasting room.

Falsetto Seeks New Note For Yeon's Visitor Center

Architect Paul Falsetto of Carleton/Hart is one of the city's foremost voices on historic preservation, particularly mid-20th Century modernism. Since late June, Falsetto has been leading a University of Oregon studio class  devoted to finding a new program for the former Portland Oregon Visitors Information Center building beside the western Hawthorne Bridge terminus at Waterfront Park, designed by John Yeon, which I wrote about in a previous post.

On Wednesday evening, Falsetto's students will present their findings and conlusions in a public event from 5-7pm at the UO Portland Center. This is a chance to learn not only about the POVIC project and weigh in on its future, but to hear Falsetto and the UO students talk about Yeon and Northwest Modernism.

As Falsetto writes, "The building has been empty for years now, and lack of occupancy along with delayed maintenance is starting to take its toll. PP&R (Portland Parks & Rec) would like to have the building occupied with a viable use. The preservation community would like to see the building rehabilitated in a manner respectful of its historic status and integrity. The challenges facing the Visitors Information Center signify those on the horizon as the great number of Modernist structures begin to outlive their initial programs and methods of construction."

A Tragic Day For Architecture in Portland: Rosefriend Apartments Destruction Begins

After reading in this morning's paper that demolition on the Rosefriend Apartments was about to begin, I drove downtown around 10:30 - and I was just in time. The arm of a giant crane, with two grabbing hooks on the end like some prosthetic limb from a horror movie, was lurching toward the decorative top of the building.

The Rosefriend, as regular readers here know, is the victim of a plan hatched by First Christian Church, which owns the block, and their developer partner, Opus Northwest, to build a half-block tower here. The original impetus for the project was underground parking for its members. Churches in the downtown area face difficult challenges, but it's ironic in such a pedestrian, bike and transit friendly city that a religious institution of all people is not only destroying a beautiful historic brick apartment building right on Broadway, but is doing it (to borrow from the Tonkin car dealer headline) for the love of cars.

And yes, the other part of this story is the Ladd Carriage House, which is being saved thanks to laudable efforts by the Friends of the Ladd Carriage House (led by Paul Falsetto of Carleton/Hart Architecture) as well as onetime Ladd Tower co-developer John Carroll. As reported in today's Oregonian, the house will be moved this Saturday for a few months but was saved from demolition, which was the church's original plan.

The only problem, as I see it (and others certainly may disagree), is that the preservationists turned a blind eye to the Rosefriend to save the Ladd Carriage House. And I don't buy the argument that the Rosefriend was gutted on the inside already as justification, as one person was quoted as saying in today's paper. Call me shallow, but I think the exterior facade is still pretty important. In fact, I wouldn't have cared if they made it a crack house on the inside - at least the beautiful old building the I've enjoyed throughout my years in Portland would still be there. 

A crowd of people gathered in front of the Oregonian building, as I did this morning, to watch the spectacle of concrete, brick, glass and metal being torn from the facade and dropped onto the ground. A few times, so much dust was kicked up that we all got covered with it across the street. Meanwhile, in between they've kept one lane of the street open, and a slow crawl of cars is constantly going by (kind of like in Jean-Luc Godard's Weekend for you fellow film geeks reading this). I asked one of the sidewalk monitors for Opus why they hadn't closed the street for the day, and he said, "The City wouldn't let us."

In the days ahead, I'd like to encourage anyone else who was a friend of the Rosefriend to go and take some pictures of the demolition while it's in progress. If we have to lose the building, I think we should at least have proper documentation of its death. If you do, I'd love to have a copy.

I bear no ill will towards the Ladd Tower project itself or Ankrom Moisan, the firm designing it. But one shirtless man on the street I talked to had this to say: "I can guarantee you whatever replaces this one won't have the same kind of integrity. And I say that knowing nothing about what they're gonna build here. It doesn't matter."

A Plea to Preserve the Checkerboard (Updated)

Last weekend I was walking downtown along 10th Avenue, on my way to Powells Books, when I noticed that one of my very favorite buildings in Portland is for sale. The realtor calls it simply the “415 building”, after its street address. I usually call it something more descriptive like the “colored checkerboard”, for its wonderful if decaying façade.

Although its entrance is on 10th, the 415 also fronts 11th Avenue in back, right across from the Mark Spencer Hotel and the Telegram building. It has about 32 parking spaces in back, Colliers (the realtor) tells me, to go with about 20,000 square feet of space (on a 10,000 square foot floor plate), three stories and a 9:1 floor area ratio.

In the past, this building has served as office space, but it could also make a good two-story retail space. The second story lacks natural light, but the proper renovation could change that (or, given the right program, especially retail, could make that irrelevant with a more theatrical setting.) The third floor could easily be converted to condos, the location of which ought to make them very appealing. This block has been somewhat dead for the past few years, but that is changing quickly with the addition of Living Room Theaters across the street and the Ace Hotel around the corner. The building is also, as I mentioned, just two blocks from Powell’s and the Brewery Blocks.

If you’ve been reading this blog for awhile, you probably know I’ve written about this building a couple of times before. I keep doing so because it stays vacant and I worry somebody will demolish it. But the building is really unique and, after the proper renovation, could be a dazzling piece of midcentury modern architecture. A novelist in London even bought a photo of mine of the building (shown here) without even having ever set foot in Portland, much less the Checkerboard itself.

According to realtor Daren Duke of Colliers (no relation to Bo, Luke or David), it was built in 1960 by Paul Gold. “I get a call from an architecture student every six months or so asking about the building,” he said.

Clearly, this building needs work. It’s basically just an empty shell with a really cool façade. It’s basically column-free on the inside, meaning it might need some seismic upgrading, but that also means there’s a lot of wide-open space. Developers have asked about the building, but nobody wants to take on its purchase and renovation without a tenant. However, there are any number of retailers or creative companies that ought to be eying this kind of unique space…and one with its own parking!

It feels a little weird to be offering such blatant advocacy on behalf of a for-sale project. But if there’s anything architectural tragedies like the pending demolition of the Rosefriend Apartments (courtesy of First Christian Church and Opus Northwest) teach us, it’s that you’ve got to think about preservation long before the destructive sins begin to ge