Mystery Building of the Week-- May 7th

Haverford Bicycle Company Ruin

448 North 10th Street

                      This is a cool fucking building. This big-ass motherfucker is one of the Loft District's surviving industrial buildings that is yet to be fully redeveloped. Though its roughly known where the building came from and why it was built, the structure still is replete with mysteries.
                      This 47,448 square foot behemoth will probably one day become the coolest apartment building on the Reading Viaduct, but for now, it'll continue to sit there, looking like shit. This beastoid was built around 1917 or 1918 (nobody really knows) for the Haverford Cycle Company. The ONLY reason anyone knows this is because of the ghost signs on the building stating "The Bicycle with a National Reputation".

Here's the cover to one of their catalogues, but its from before they moved to this building.

                      Some Philadelphia Speaks users were the ones who investigated the ghost signs and were able to find the record from March 1919 stating that a Max M. Sladkin purchased the land at 10th and Buttonwood for the Haverford Cycle Company with the intention of developing a bicycle factory. The only issue I have with this evidence is that another group called the Philadelphia Supplies Company claims the same address as their headquarters from 1916-1927.. so WHAT THE FUCK?!?!!
                    Haverford Cycle Company made bicycles, motorcycles, and a shitload of accessories. They existed until 1924. Other than that, there's no other records of this building's existence until 1998 when the Cuckleberger Storage Company bought the place for $170,000. Even when you look up this building's 3 addresses (1002-04 Buttonwood, 448 North 10th, and 1001-03 Hamilton), nothing comes up. Maybe some bicycle enthusiast out there knows what's up.
                    The architect for this monster is unknown but whomever it was must have been pretty good... the surviving pieces of original facade are pretty badass. It also appears that the top three floors and the abutment on the eastern side are both additions from an unknown time. The top floor seems to have been recently renovated as an office space.

Interior of the top floor (I think). From the building's new real estate listing.

                 So that's pretty much it... this building does a pretty good job of being a complete and total mystery... there's no old pictures of it other than some blurry aerial photos and one pic from 1960 where you can sort of see it behind another building, looking almost the same as it does today. What a pisser.
                 Due to the nearly inevitable greening of the Reading Viaduct, this building won't stay empty and ugly for long. Its currently for sale for $2.5 million... hopefully some developer with a titanium nutsack will come along and rehab this motherfucker to its full potential.

Pic of one of the floors from the real estate listing.

                          So... anyone know what this building was doing for most of the 20th Century? Who the architect is? How long Haverford Bicycle Company was there? and What the fuck!?!?!?!

Butt-Fugly Building of the Week-- May 3rd

American Sunday School Union

1122 Chestnut Street

Yes, such a house of beauty.

                      Fuckin' Chestnut East... its one sad motherfucker of a place. The 1100 block is especially sorry-looking... many of the crappy short retail spots used to be much taller beautiful buildings. The butt-fugly building we're talking about today is probably the oldest butt-fugly building I'll ever talk about. Its an example of how crappy alterations can ruin a perfectly good building.
                     The American Sunday School Union was formed under the name Sunday and Adult School Union in 1817.  It was primarily formed to standardize catechism, manage missionaries, and print publications for religious education. It was a pretty disorganized group until 1845, when they elected managers and officers. The same year, they declared Philadelphia their national headquarters, since good ol' Philly was considered, then as now, to be the best fucking city in the world!
                     The first headquarters space was in a 10 x 10 room near 4th and Cherry Streets. In 1820, they expanded to 29 North 4th Street. They outgrew that spot by 1825 and moved to 13 North 4th, staying there for 2 years until their massive popularity made them able to purchase 146 Chestnut Street. The ASSU was able to stay there for 20 years but eventually found the quarters too cramped, being that they were printing five times the amount of books by 1845. They knocked their building down and rebuilt a new one by the end of that year.
                    It didn't help. In 1853, the Union was ready to build again. They purchased a lot in an area considered "the country" at the time, 316 Chestnut Street. That is to say, 316 Chestnut according to the old address number system. The "country" location is now known as 1122 Chestnut Street. That's right... the building we're talking about today is so fucking old that when it was built, the 1100 block of Chestnut was outside of town. They got John McArthur, Jr, the supermegatect that designed City Hall, to design them a Sunday School Castle of Granite Cocksmacks that would be big enough to keep them from having to move FOREVER.
                   McArthur slapped them with his kryponite dick and gave them a monolith fortress the likes of which no Sunday Schooler had ever seen. Behind a facade of Quincy Granite lay four floors of offices followed by five floors of warehouse that reached all the way back to George (Sansom) Street.

Here it is in 1901, already 47 years old.

                  It cost $71,876.18, $1.48 million today, with 54,276.18 donated by Philadelphia citizens. Completed in 1854, the building became a landmark to the religious and helped bring more development to the infant Chestnut East. Its $5,000 ($107k today) grand assembly hall, added in 1878, could be reserved free of charge by groups from any denomination for meetings and banquets. While in this building, the ASSU spread itself all over the world, storing Sunday School books in a shitload of languages. I wonder if they had any Klingon catechism books?
                  Once the 20th Century came along, the ASSU was outgrowing the building they thought they could never outgrow. They sold it for $325,000 and built a new home at 1816 chestnut street. That's when Benjamin F. Dewees, who had a successful dry goods store next door, started his reign of terror in the old ASSU building. He moved in and later combined 1122 and 1124, ripping the facade off the ASSU and built a new facade that would cover the two buildings. That's right, this ugly motherfucker is a crazy hybrid of two buildings. The ASSU on the left and another historical building on the right, the Robbins and Biddle jewelry company.

The two buildings in an 1880 panoramic business directory. Dewees had already moved in to the old Robbins and Biddle. 

                     Robbins, Biddle, and Company was once the most badass jeweler in the nation and is the oldest jewelry company in America. It's still around, now called Bailey, Banks, and Biddle. At 1124 Chestnut, they made confederate pennies and the mortuary medal for Abe Lincoln's funeral, among other historical shit. They would go on to make even more history, but that was at their newer locations, so who cares?
                     Shortly after the buildings were combined, the Dewees store gave up on dry goods and focused on women's wear. They enforced strict guidelines on how their salewomen would look and how they were dressed. In the 1910's, they leased some of their empty office space upstairs to various companies, at one point holding the office of mega-architect Andrew J. Sauer. Dewees would stay open all the way up into the 1960's, with other locations in the burbs. 

There it is, look ugly as fuck on the right in 1957.

                                 After that, records are spotty. In 1979, something called the Arm Corporation had offices in the building. The storefront changed and changed and changed until the mid 2000's, when House of Beauty II moved in. Ironic that such an ugly building could be called "House of Beauty". In 2006, the building, along with its neighbor to the west, was purchased for $10 million dollars by the now-defunct developer CREI.
                               Demolition notices went up and the insane Unknot Tower was approved to replace the old ASSU/Robbins Biddle building. Then, in 2008, CREI went to shit and the company that loaned them $16.5 million for the Unknot project, Petra Capital Management, took possession of the butt-ass awful-looking property. Its been sitting there collecting rat shit ever since.
                              When the fuck will some hero come along and save Chestnut East? Someone needs to take this ugly motherfucker, put it out of its fucking misery, and build something awesome here!!! I know the frames of historical buildings are sitting behind that crappy frontage... but its not like the old facades are gonna be restored. You'll probably never see me say this about such an old building again, but I say DESTROY!! DESTROY!! DESTROY!!!

Lost Building of the Week-- May 2nd

Park Theater

701 North Broad Street

Look at that shit. Pic from the PAB.

                    This city has so many lost theaters, its a wonder why we ever build new ones. Here's yet another one for the list...a perfectly good theater that got chewed up and spit out by major alterations to the point of becoming a useless pile of trash when it was demolished. The victim of the mid-20th Century shittyness of its neighborhood, this would be a great structure to have around today.
                   This last Monday, I wrote about the Northwestern National Bank building, which was across the street from this thing. The Park Theater was yet another accoutrement added to the Gilded Age Town Square that was the convergence of Broad, Fairmount, and Ridge Avenues.
                   As stated in the Northwestern Bank article, this Gilded Age Town Square was created to establish a separate rich neighborhood from the trustafarian-ass old money millionaires by Rittenhouse Square. The newly-rich-ass self-made motherfuckers were rejected by the shiftless inherited-wealth types, and wanted a community with its own cultural and institutional resources. One of the first resources created was this, the Park Theater.
                  In 1886, the great Gilded Age triple-corner did not yet boast the Lorraine Hotel or the American Trust Loan and Guaranteed Investment Company. The first major piece of architecture to hit the corner would have to be magnificent enough to help spur the growth of this burgeoning 'hood. John Bailey McElfatrick, a great architect that designed some of the nicest theaters in the country, was called in to design a theater that would kick the Academy of Music's ass and crush the Musical Fund Hall's balls.
                 McElfatrick didn't disappoint. He designed a white brick-facaded Megafortress of Theatrical Mushmeat. It had a cone-shaped tower on one side and a pyramid-shaped tower on the other... sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don't. Completed in 1887, it held over 1,600 seats and made the northeast corner of Broad and Fairmount shine like a motherfucker. A few years later, the American Trust building would go up, and then Willis G. Hale's Lorraine Hotel a few years after that. Elfatrick has another connection to Willis Hale... he designed the Garrick Theater, which was built to appear as an addition to the Hale Building and had a facade, designed by Hale, that matched it.
                The theater's awesomeness wouldn't last very long. In 1908, the Metropolitan Opera House a couple of blocks to the north was built, making the Park Theater seem like a shitbag puppet show hut, despite additions and alterations made in 1898, 1901, and 1904. In 1918, John Wanamaker purchased the building and donated it to the Salvation Army. It became the Salvation Army's headquarters and was the home of the organization's Anti-Suicide Club. They named the building Evangeline Hall. I prefer Evangeline Lilly.

1925.

                By the 1950's, the area had become absolute shit. The Salvation Army was needed in this area more than ever and the old theater building they were using was falling apart. In 1968, the old Park Theater was unceremoniously knocked the fuck down in favor of a newer, sleeker Salvation Army headquarters that looks about as ugly as that time period's architecture gets.
          

Yeah, this is so much better. Pic from Temple's Philadelphia Neighborhoods.

                  J.B. McElfatrick designed at least 3 other Philadelphia theaters and only one still stands, but its so ridiculously altered that you'd never know it-- its that MJM Trading Inc. "Food Distributor" at 10th and Callowhill. As stated above, this city has a talent for losing theater awesome-looking theater buildings, and we'll probably lose a few more in the next couple of decades. What a fucking shame.

1907 fake colored view. Pic from the PAB.

Empty Lot of the Week-- May 1st

Market Street Shitpile

240 Market Street

VERY Empty Lot of the Week

                    Wow, this empty lot is completely useless... its not even a parking lot! Situated on a fine part of Market Street, this lot hasn't seen a building in 25 years. It doesn't get much worse than this... a perfectly good piece of land just sitting there collecting party puke and bumshit. 
                    Read more at the Philadelphia Citypaper's Naked City Blog!

Old-Ass Building of the Week-- April 30th

The Lusk Building (a.k.a. Northwestern Bank II, a.k.a. Broad Street Trust Company, a.k.a Continental Bank)

700 North Broad Street

                 Now here's a rather unique building that gets no respect. The Lusk Building was built at the tail end of North Broad Street's Golden Age and is still being used for its original purpose. Now that North Broad is facing an exponentially expanding renaissance, this regal structure and the corner it lives on will return from decades of neglect.
               Read more at Hidden City Philadelphia!

Butt-Fugly Public Art of the Week-- April 26th

Video Arbor by Nam June Paik

Franklin Town Boulevard

How it looks most of the time-- like shit. Pic from philart.net.

                      Ah jeez... Video Art. Video Installations. Video Assholeryness. These things are so fucking horrible. Sometimes art has a way of getting into realms it should never cross. Television SHOWS are more artistic than television art. Here we have a situation where the video art is so bad, its an insult to video art itself, which already sucks! Its like if your ass cancer had cancer on its ass!
                     Stupid fucking Franklintown. The worse revitalization plan in the history of concrete. Franklintown Boulevard is like no other diagonal street in town. It wasn't like the others you see in Center City that used to be highways to other towns that got taken over by the street grid. Franklintown Boulevard was artificially placed into the street grid by the dumbshits who thought Franklintown was the Philly of the future. It was originally supposed to have moving sidewalks. Seriously.

Bahahahahaahaha.

                    In 1987, 16 years after Franklintown was first proposed, the butt-fugly One Franklin Town was built. To satisfy its percent-for-art requirement, they called in a famous artist known as the Andy Warhol of Korea, Nam Jun Paik. Paik is known as the father of video art... that's like saying you're the father of asscheese.
                  Paik saw this as an opportunity to do something new. He had never designed a permanently outdoor video art display, so for this piece, he would mount 84 video monitors way up in the air on a big-ass arbor that would eventually become overgrown with shrubbery (landscape design was by John Bentley). Paik researched ways of having outdoor television sets stay functional for years and would use a technologically-advanced recording for the video sequences-- laserdisc. The tv sets would be displayed in three rows, showing two different videos at once. One is a mish-mash of corny Philadelphia images interspersed with crap, the other is geometric-looking shit changing shapes. This stupendous pile of donkey turds was dedicated in October of 1990.  It was named Video Arbor, since it is an arbor of videos. Finally... a name for an art piece that isn't pretentious as fuck.
                  The biggest problem with this piece is that it only can truly be appreciated at night. During the day, it just looks like a bunch of shitty broken tv screens with plants all over the place. Paik seems to have attempted to solve this problem by placing small reliefs of circuitboards around along with sundail and clock imagery as a distraction, but it doesn't work. 
                   As anyone could have guessed, the televisions didn't stay functional. If you put 84 TV's outside, even with the best protection, you're always going to have a few that won't work forever. Its just a matter of statistical probability. Now, 22 years later, even if the TV's were indoors there would be some fucked up ones. Its not clear when they stopped playing the video due to too many fucked up screens, but I remember seeing the them functioning in 2004.
                   Amber Dorko Stopper, a big fan of Paik's work, first noticed that the screens weren't being activated in 2006. She worked for years to get the videos back up and running. Finally, this last January, Paik's Folly aka Video Arbor was reactivated. Here's her video of it. You can see that more than half the screens don't work. Useless. 
                   Why did anyone think this piece of shit was a good idea? Video for a PERMANENT outdoor art piece? I don't think they understood what permanent meant. In 1,000 years, most of the old bronze statues and shit from the early days of Philadelphia public art will still be standing, looking the same if not better with age. That's permanence. In 1,000 years, Video Arbor, if still standing, will have wisteria covering its broken screens because no one will ever know that they used to play video. That's not permanent. That's crap.

Here's a pic from philart.net showing more of the screens working.

Parking Garage of the Week-- April 25th

Wood Street Garage

320 North Broad Street

Fuck Youuuuuuuuuuuuu!

                    Goddammit, why did they have to do this? This shitty parking garage is the ONLY structure on the West side of North Broad Street between Vine and Callowhill Streets. This! The worst part of the existence of this Parking Box is the fact that it replaced a great building. Fuck it fuck it fuck it!!
                   That's right, this parking garage replaced a perfectly good, somewhat historically significant building that was much taller than the crappy Wood Street Garage. Built 1922-1924, the Benevolent Paternal Order of Elks Lodge #2 was built as a FUBU hotel for members. It was designed by the Ballinger firm featuring Andrew J. Sauer, Lord of the Cunningham Building. After changes in city demographics and the Great Depression came along, Elk membership got so light that they moved back into their old building at Arch and Juniper.

Old ad for the hotel when it was still Elk-run.

                        After that, the building became the Broadwood Hotel, featuring the Philadelphia Playhouse Theatre. They called it the Broadwood Hotel because it was located at the corner of Broad and Wood Streets... not such a bad idea. The Broadwood became one of the city's most popular and successful hotels of the 20th Century. Not only was the theater inside an attraction, but the ballroom on the third floor was considered one of the best in America.

As the Broadwood Hotel. Pic from the PAB.

                        The Broadwood stayed open all the way up into the 1970's. Then it was converted into the Philadelphia Athletic Club. At this point, this stretch of North Broad was even shittier than it is today. The building got historically registered in 1984, but we all know that doesn't mean dick.

The Broadwood as the Philadelphia Athletic Club in 1980.

                       In the early 90's, Hahnemann Hospital decided that all the empty lots and other parking garages near their campus weren't enough. They demolished the fuck out of the old Broadwood and built the Wood Street Garage in its place, fucking up the street way more than the blighted old building ever could. Instead of keeping a beautiful historically registered building standing, they opted to screw up the block forever... what ass.
                     What's worse... they made the Wood Street garage UGLY as FUCK. At street level, instead of retail, there are prison bars. A weird 90s-ish stone-like facade was put on, but doesn't cover the whole front! Just the bottom floors and the Northern corner. That's just dumb.

Prison bar frontage on Broad Street. Image from Google.

                   Hopefully one day the surface lots adjacent to this mess will get filled in with buildings that distract away from the presence of this dirty motherfucker and we'll all joke about how this crappy parking garage was once the only thing on this part of the North Broad corridor. Don't fucking count on it.