Why is Demolition Always the Answer?
“Well, there’s a logic to it. If you can’t build one as good as the one you’re tearing down. There’s plenty of chances to do modern architecture. There are plenty of parking lots to build on. There’s no use to tearing down our heritage.”
- Architect Harry Weese
The above quote came to mind when I was thinking about Chicago’s demolitions. Yes, I know that we can’t save every historic building. When the end result potentially includes more housing and increased overall density that’s a positive outcome for everyone. But what if an older structure is replaced with…nothing? *Poof* A piece of our architectural fabric is gone forever and, sorry to sound like a cliche, we paved paradise to put up a parking lot. As Weese said above, why take down our heritage, especially when there are countless parking lots possibly available for development? How many more vacant or underused pieces of land does the city need? Why do developers immediately resort to bulldozers instead of considering adaptive reuse? If you want to discuss density, then please explain to me why Chicago still permits the construction of strip malls and drive-thrus near areas with heavy pedestrian traffic? I could go on. We are currently living in a climate crisis. Do we really need tons more material ending up in our landfills? Especially when there isn’t a guarantee something will actually be built there. We’re just left with something worse, in my opinion. This is not what I’d call progress.
American cities have enough vacant lots. Chicago must stop allowing developers to buy properties with no specific plans for redevelopment. What’s the latest example of this practice? On April 1st a demolition permit was issued for 720 North Wells (along with its rear neighbor at 207 West Superior), an Italianate-style building with a cast-iron storefront that was supposedly constructed for brewer Conrad Seipp in 1872, only one year after the Great Chicago Fire. 720 N. Wells was rated “green” due to its altered condition at the time it was included in the Chicago Historic Resources Survey, completed in 1995, which should have been updated a long time ago. Therefore, it had no protections. The rear building was “orange-rated,” but it was released from the demolition delay list last August.
Five years ago the property was purchased by 5M Group for $4.3 million, who intended to lease out some space and use the rest for their private art collection. It was renovated in 2006. Previously it had housed Alpana Singh’s restaurant, The Boarding House. Back in the 1980s the stylish nightclub Cairo created private rooms and a basement dance club out of the coal vaults located under the sidewalks. Per Cook County tax records, the property was transferred in late 2022 to KF Partners LLC, which along with Topography Hospitality, specializes in boutique hotels.
Alderman Reilly sent out a newsletter to his constituents informing them that a new development will be constructed on the site. However, the project itself is unclear as no real plans have been provided to the public and no building permits have been issued. What I find infuriating more than anything, besides demolishing a piece of a historically intact block, is one particular detail from the newsletter. When something is actually constructed on the site, there will *not* be increased density, like a massive condo tower, but rather just a slightly larger building. It is utter nonsense to replace a beautiful old structure like this one for *only one or two more* levels. Is that truly the best use of the site? Where’s the imagination? How about an addition on top or behind the building instead of tearing it down? And may I add, for such a dense area, River North still has plenty of parking lots. Do we really need one more? (You know, in the likelihood this development never takes off.) Is the whole block now at risk?
In the UK, for example, all buildings constructed between 1700-1840 are automatically listed aka protected. Of course Chicago doesn’t have a built environment *that old,* but what does survive, we just seem to throw away. 720 North Wells is the latest example. This city needed to reform its preservation and demolition policies, like, yesterday. This latest act is hardly justifiable, and the city loses a bit of its soul every time this happens. According to Gabriel X. Michael, the green fencing is already up.
As the Chicago Tribune reported in this article the other day about 720 North Wells, the Chicago Historic Resources Survey missed probably the most significant building on the block. A proposed River North Landmark District that would have protected it has been sitting on a shelf in city hall for the last 15 years. Talk about inaction. Another building “slips through the cracks,” as Ward Miller noted in the article. Yet this isn’t some rare occurrence as these events seem to happen again and again. Will there be anything left if the city doesn’t reform its land use and preservation policies soon? Not only to protect our historic infrastructure, but also to meet density goals that make sense (you know, prioritize building something on that massive parking lot across the street instead of demolishing a piece of history). I know you’re sick and tired of watching the city destroy itself like I am. If something doesn’t change relatively soon, then we might as well rename the city Houston.
On Twitter (which a maniac billionaire now likes to call X for some reason), local preservationist Andy Schneider shared an update on a property in the West Loop. Back in 2017, I remember feeling upset when I learned that the city was allowing yet another demolition of a well-known architect’s work. The Chicago Machinery Building at 1217 W. Washington Boulevard was designed by Daniel Burnham & Company in 1910. The eye-catching exterior was in great condition, adorned with bright red ornamentation depicting eagles and floral designs that contrasted with its glazed white brick.
Instead of the structure being preserved, it was trashed and now six plus years and counting, the city is stuck with another vacant lot. Such a waste! As I tweeted at the time of its proposed demolition, one developer’s actions impact us all. In my opinion, there is nothing wrong with facadism, in which a new building is erected behind or around a historic facade. At least the overall character of the streetscape survives. Or better yet, in the words of Preservation Chicago, “Demolition permits should be issued simultaneously with construction permits.” How many times is the city going to allow developers to destroy our architectural heritage?
Another example of the city’s wastefulness and disregard for history is the endless demolitions that occur in Lincoln Park. Yes, I am thinking about what happened almost a year ago when the 1870s wood-frame Italianate at 2240 N. Burling was torn down. The three-flat had been owned by the same family since 1959. The wool was pulled over their eyes when they sold it to their neighbor, Thaddeus Wong, the co-CEO of At Properties. He had promised to preserve it but instead demolished the old building, similar to what he has done to the ones directly to the south. The home sat right outside the limits of the local Mid-North District that would have protected it (although it was part of the national Sheffield Historic District, which is more of a recognition). The property never even appeared in front of the Commission on Chicago Landmarks as a meeting was mysteriously cancelled after a petition drive to save the historic building had gathered more than 2,000 signatures.
Not only are the demolitions of these Victoria-era residences on Burling a loss for historic preservation, but one could argue they also result in a loss of density, whether the replacement is a wealthy person’s side yard or some new, unsightly monstrosity for a single family. To quote the previous owner of 2240 N. Burling: “Tearing it down will leave a gaping hole in the streetscape.” That is exactly what has happened on this block of Burling, now looking suburban-scaled with all its empty plots of land (Oz Park is just down the street, folks).
Back in the day when you needed an actual camera with real film, I captured some low-quality images of the Chicago Mercantile Exchange/Butter and Egg Building, an Alfred Alschuler design from 1927, before it was torn down in 2002-03. The structure was orange-rated in the Chicago Historic Resources Survey and had a 97% occupancy rate (uncommon for a downtown commercial building, especially now) when the demolition permit was issued. There was no real reason given for its destruction, except that the powerful Crown family wanted it gone, even though they had no immediate plans for a replacement (a tower was proposed in 2015 and a revised version in 2022, but no progress has made to develop the site).
If there is one positive aspect to the razing of the Mercantile Exchange, it led to the 90-day demolition delay (although this solution has its own issues, which I won’t get into now but you can see what happened to 2240 N. Burling). Over twenty years later, the site of the building is still a vacant lot. A sizable wound inside the Loop, but also a tangible reminder of how many good buildings we’ve destroyed along the way. I still get angry whenever I think about Block 37. The city revoked the landmark designation of the McCarthy Building, which was designed by architect John Van Osdel and built a year after the Great Chicago Fire of 1871. The entire block was condemned in 1989. After this death sentence, that site remained empty for the next 25 years. And what did we finally get in this prime Loop spot? An ugly, dead mall alongside a $400 million unused subway superstation.
"The automobile city is the anti-city which annihilates the city wherever it collides with it." —Lewis Mumford, The City in History
Clearly this isn’t a new problem. Look around you. Whenever you see a parking lot, just assume a cool, old building used to be there. What is one of the most obvious examples of the lasting impact of America’s obsession with tearing down our historic built environment? While the massive land clearance that leveled hundreds of structures in St. Louis and Philadelphia was permanently scarring, I am actually thinking about cars. Yes, the “big road.” Nothing has been more devastating to the livelihood and social fabric of our cities than the demolition and displacement of entire neighborhoods for the construction of expressways. Streetcar lines and railroad tracks were ripped up, suburban sprawl spread, and Americans had no choice but to buy a car because, you know, consumption. In The Highway and The City, critic Lewis Mumford wrote about the “ill-conceived” highway program that would have a lasting and damaging impact on America’s cities and rural areas due to the country’s new “religion”: the motor car. He wasn’t wrong. Your urban freeway was, in fact, not free.
In Europe, you will find motorways with fewer lanes that bypass city centres altogether instead of running right through them. (Exceptions that come to mind include Paris, where there is one that rings around city borders and the M8 that cuts through the middle of Glasgow.) There is not enough space in Europe for the large and wide expressways found in U.S. states like Texas. The higher population density of European cities reduces car dependency and makes mass transit more feasible.
Despite this, car dependency around the world remains pretty alarming. A new study finds that 51% of the global population commutes by car, while in the U.S., it is *92%*. Rafael Prieto-Curiel, who collected the data, noted that “we drive too many cars, and the burden of cars in cities is huge and goes beyond the combustion of petrol. It is also the parking space required, the driving infrastructure, the noise they produce, the toxic materials used in manufacturing and road pavement, the crashes they cause.” Cars are winning.
According to the Governors Highway Safety Association (GHSA), 2022 marked the highest number of pedestrian fatalities in the U.S. in over forty years, with 7,508 people killed by cars, which is roughly a death every 70 minutes. Why does this country place more importance on cars (and parking lots) than on protecting people (and buildings too, for that matter)? You are probably wondering why I am going on and on about cars. I believe America’s car-dependent culture is a major factor that has led to our current problems, especially when it comes to historic preservation. Believe it or not, older American cities, such as Chicago, were more similar to Europe back in the day. They were not designed for cars. But now they are. One may wonder why new designs are so monotonous. I’d like to think it’s because nobody is actually walking around; instead people are just whizzing by in their cars. When people *are* walking, the newly built environment is not very friendly or welcoming. I don’t know about you but I’d rather have a historic storefront in my city than another parking podium.
At the end of March, Block Club Chicago reported that St. George’s Cathedral in Rogers Park demolished a historic home even after neighbors tried to save it because…what a surprise…the church wants a parking lot.
Then, of course, there is the ongoing battle to save two classic Chicago School skyscrapers on State Street in the Loop: the Century Building, designed by Holabird & Roche and completed in 1916, and the Consumers Building, designed by Jenny, Mundie & Jensen and completed in 1913. They are both contributing properties to the Loop Retail Historic District. I’ve already written quite enough about demolitions, but the gist of the story is that the U.S. General Services Administration (GSA) intends to spend $52 million to demolish these historic structures instead of reusing them. And what will the future hold for this corner of State and Adams? Nothing! Why? Because of security concerns due to its proximity to the Dirksen Courthouse, even though architects have addressed this issue in adaptive reuse proposals, and there are other buildings much closer (check out all those “scary” windows at 131 S. Dearborn).
If you want to learn more about what is going on with these buildings, check out this multimedia campaign by Preservation Futures and this Chicago Sun-Times piece. Over on Twitter, urban planner Steve Vance shared a current photo of the now empty space between the two structures, a gated-off garden that no one is allowed to use.
Other towns and cities across the U.S. would die for the kind of built fabric Chicago possesses. Chicago sells its architecture to tourists from around the world, yet at the same time, the city is destroying more of itself every year. Imagine being known around the world for your architectural contributions, such as creating the first skyscraper, only for the city to repeatedly fail to protect these treasures.
This rant has gone on long enough, but let me just finish by saying that I am aware of the fact that not every old building can be saved. But I will not accept Chicago tearing down its architectural heritage, known the world over, for absolutely nothing. Cities do not *need* more empty spaces, especially in the middle of downtown districts like the Loop. Something needs to change. Chicago, you are running out of time.
They paved paradise and put up a parking (or empty) lot.
Excellent article.