Tucked between the Convention Center and the Vine Street
Expressway is a patch of Center City that time and development forgot. Its
blocks are veined with cobbled alleys whose names have almost disappeared from
the Philadelphia map: Watts, Florist, Clarion, Spring. In contrast to the
snoozy monoculture that is the Convention Center, the little enclave is packed
with humming workshops and rowhouses.
This is probably how much of downtown Philadelphia looked in
the early 20th century, before the triumph of the car, before fragmented blocks
were consolidated into neat, developer-friendly parcels. Despite way too many
parking lots, the area between 11th and Broad remains as evocative of our city
as old Istanbul or Beijing's surviving hutong neighborhoods are of those
places.
But just as nature abhors a vacuum, so does real estate. As
Center City has sloughed off its grit and filled up with tony high-rises and
top-tier restaurants, developers have begun to turn their gaze to this
forgotten pocket.
The latest project to emerge comes from a hotel developer
and involves one of the area's newer buildings, the 1946 Warner Bros. film
exchange building at 13th and Florist. In a neighborhood that includes many
19th-century houses and the historic red-brick Adelphi schoolhouse, built by
Quakers in 1832 to educate black children, Warner Bros. stands out as a rare
local example of streamlined moderne, a subset of the art deco style.
The tan-and-brown-brick exchange was designed by William
Harold Lee, a prolific movie-theater designer and Furness protege, and it
exhibits the style's classic traits, including a curvy entrance and glass-block
details. Warner Bros. used it as a distribution center in the days when theater
operators came in person to pick up film canisters and posters. Later, it had a
second act in film history as the place where NFL Films was founded. The
exchange is so special, it was the first post-World War II building to be
listed on Philadelphia's historic register, in 2008.
Its charming facade is, no doubt, what attracted Baywood
Hotels, which wants to top the two-story exchange with a nine-story tower,
using the model that architect Norman Foster established with Manhattan's
Hearst Tower. But because the hotel overbuild would be a major intervention,
Baywood needed a sign-off from the Historic Commission.
That proved to be no problem. The commission voted July 11
to give the project conceptual approval over the objections of its
architectural subcommittee. Normally diplomatic, the committee bluntly
described the design as mediocre. Before giving the green light, the group
wanted Baywood's architect, spg3, to rethink its whole approach and laid out
suggestions for improving the design.
Spg3 did eventually implement several of the committee's
ideas, producing a tower that is a not-so-subtle copy of the shaft of the PSFS
building. The new version plays off the exchange's rounded corner, which calls
to mind the shape of the PSFS podium.
It's a pretty weak concept given that this is 2014, not
1932, when the groundbreaking PSFS burst on the scene. With Foster's Hearst
building, which also sits atop an art deco base, the tower at least has the
advantage of being a dynamic, faceted, modern form. If Baywood and spg3 were
half as ambitious, it would be a huge improvement.
Unlike PSFS's meticulously crafted brick, spg3's overbuild
will most likely be constructed in budget-minded composite panels. Although the
design could still be improved, so far it's not worthy of Lee's snappy art deco
exchange or the eclectic neighborhood. The commission, which meets Aug. 8 to
decide on final approval, still has a chance to demand more from Baywood.
Preservationists have been extremely critical of the
project. Much of their concern has centered on whether it is appropriate to
plop a tower on top of a historic building. The bigger sin, in my view, is the
way design has been made an afterthought.
As Rich Thom, the architect who renovated the exchange
several years ago into offices, points out, two outer walls and the entire
interior will be removed to allow space for the tower. That makes this project
more demolition than modification.
It's a big ask by Baywood. Yet the commission has demanded
very little in return.
The commission is supposed to be the steward of
Philadelphia's prized collection of historic architecture. But it increasingly
sees its role as an arbiter of development proposals. Its first job should be
to protect the public patrimony.
There are strong echoes here of the recent Boyd Theater
case, in which the commission also allowed the developer to use the facade as a
false front for a new building, the iPic movie theater. That building was also
sold short.
The nine-story Baywood tower will dramatically transform how
we experience the Warner Bros. exchange. It will also set the tone for the
changes coming to the neighborhood.
It's no secret why Baywood wants to build in this
still-sketchy location. Warner Bros. is just a block from the Convention
Center. The area may look tattered today, but it's strategically placed between
booming Center City, booming Chinatown, and the booming Loft District. Cleaned
up, this pocket could emerge as a new neighborhood, an arts district, or a
center for tech startups. A meaningful, original work of architecture would be
a beacon for those creatives.
But that's only if the commission doesn't give away the
city's treasures at fire-sale prices.
Source: Philly.com
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