Empty homes/homeless people.

I love that the next Indianapolis Pecha Kucha will be about a great idea to improve the city. A $10k prize won't go far in implementing a significant change but it could get the ball rolling on a fantastic idea. (If you don't know about Pecha Kucha, google it and then be sure you go to the one coming up in November).

I wish I had pulled together a presentation for P.K. but although I have an idea of what SHOULD happen, I don't have much to offer in the way of making it happen. What I do know is that a lot of smart, aware folks read this blog so I'm pitching my idea into the blogiverse to see if someone else can make headway with it or knows of a place where a municipality or private org is doing something like this.

I'm a neighborhood activist and I think one of the major issues affecting my neighborhood, our city, and the nation is abandoned homes. In my little working class neighborhood in Fountain Square there are about 20 abandoned homes that have been empty and boarded or empty and not boarded for at least as long as the three years I've lived here. Most have broken-out upper-story windows. At least one's been set on fire. There are 5 or 6 empty boarded houses on my two-block street.

My neighborhood is on the direct path to the Liquor Cabinet--the kind of charming, urban liquor store, usually found in poorer neighborhoods, that specializes in 32oz single beers and pints of the hard stuff. I notice on a daily basis a large number of homeless folks who traipse through the neighborhood on their way to or from the Liquor Cabinet and a cheap buzz. I also notice them sleeping under the trees and pissing against the buildings (which is annoying, but since there aren't public restrooms anymore and businesses understandably don't want a lot of homeless folks using their restrooms there aren't many alternatives). And now that Mayor Ballard is aggressively chasing the homeless out of downtown, their numbers on the near Southside have increased exponentially.

So here's my question to the city and to all of us. Why can't we pair up at least a small number of the homeless with some of our abandoned homes? Is it compeletly naive to imagine that we could create a great program that could put individuals or groups of 2 or 3 into abandoned houses that they "rent" or eventually buy with sweat equity? Set parameters that require them to be self-managing within the home with the clear requirement that they must secure, repair, and maintain the home in a reasonable manner in order to remain there. The city could pay for their utilities with the money they collect in those dumb boxes downtown so long as the tenants are living up to their commitments to maintain the home.

I know many of the homeless wouldn't be able to manage this sort of situation. But I bet you that some of them could and that there is, somewhere, a model for this type of program. A careful screening by program management could ensure that the people with the best chance of making it work enter the program, and ideally the households would be self-governing. The men or women within the home would decide the house rules and the penalties for violating them. That might mean that what goes on within the house might not necessarily be what you or I would want to see in our homes, but as long as the group decided that it was ok, and as long as the house is being maintained at least on the exterior, least at a minimal level, then the outside world doesn't get to make the judgement on it.

So, the neighborhood gets one or two abandoned homes filled and cleaned up, which results in lower crime and better home values. And a few people get off the streets, which also results in lower crime and a better life for them.

These people are already living in our neighborhoods and often times living on the down-low in these abandoned houses that they've broken into for a little shelter. So, we wouldn't be creating a problem. We would be addressing some tiny portion of the problem that already exists by providing decent, secure living space to a few of the homeless people already living in our neighborhood.

I know that there are mentally ill homeless and others who may not want or be able to maintain any sort of loose contract such as this would be, and this wouldn't work for them. Maybe it would work for only .05% of the homeless population. And it would take a very well-thought-out plan and follow-up process on the part of case managers, etc. And I'm aware of the concern that neighbors would have and that it would take an education process for those neighbors to give it a try, but I still believe that it could make a big difference in a few people's lives. And it could also make a big difference in a neighborhood full of abandoned, decaying homes.

A few homeless people get off the streets. A few abandoned homes get cleaned up and maybe even purchased through a sweat equity contract.

It could be a win/win situation. I'm sure I'm not the first person to have thought of this. I bet it's happening somewhere. Wouldn't it be cool if Indianapolis gained a reputation as the city that makes homeowners of their homeless? I think so, but I don't know how to make it a reality. So, I'm just putting it out there. That's my Pecha Kucha idea, sans the cool slides and the open bar. I'd love to read some or your ideas about how it might happen.

Holy Adaptive Reuse

For a while now, former architect David Andrichik, who is perhaps better known as current Chatterbox Jazz Club owner, has spoken glowingly of changes to a building I had been feeling sad about. David has turned me on to a lot of good design in the past (as well as several good beers) so I made a point of taking a long look at the Meridian Arch condo project at 802 N. Meridian St. I encourage you to do the same.

A few years ago I was the historian who evaluated all the properties along what will eventually become the Northwest section of the Indianapolis Cultural Trail. One of the properties that was so disappointing to me at that time was the former Methodist Church building that is now the front section of the Meridian Arch project. Once a Gothic Beauty all done up in limestone, the church had been gutted, the back end removed, interior stripped, windows gone. It was a shell scheduled for rehabbing into condos. Strike, strike, strike. I was dismayed that the beautiful building would never be listed on the National Register due to all these changes and losses of fabric.

But...two years later I have to admit that I now think it's a better building. Clever adaptive reuse has turned a downtown church building, which would probably never have been reused in its original capacity, into a stunner of a redevelopment project.

Although some preservationists are loathe to express appreciation for keeping a facade intact while adding new buildings behind it, I have always thought that approach is better than completely demolishing a beautiful old building. I'm glad that Browning Day Mullins Dierdorf kept the original church building skin. I especially like how they fit new windows into the original openings, keeping the arched grillwork lintels in place and installing what appear to be operable sashes behind them.

And if ever a lesson could be taught in how to attach a new addition to an existing historic building, this property could be the text. The connection between original limestone and new brick is made elegant by the continuation of a buttressed limestone beltlline across the new section and the quote of the rusticated limestone foundation on the front section translated into the smooth squared block foundation of the newer section. The two buildings meet amicably with a slightly recessed window wall.

The new section of the building honors the old section with these details and with a somewhat whimsical design element that resembles stylized flying buttresses at roofline, and it is similar in color, which also helps the two sections meld well. But this addition is a fully modern building that in no way copies the original structure in front of it. I especially like the walls of windows opening out onto individual porches on the recessed bays. And the elegantly simple facade is made interesting with cool railings and interesting light fixtures.

This building, which seemed like such a sad idea a couple of years ago turned into a real winner. This is adaptive reuse done well. And although the alterations have made the church ineligible for the National Register, they made it eligible to remain a living, contributing building to the city. That was a good trade off.

The Low Hanging Fruit isn't necessarily the best to pick.

A friend sent me a link to the NY Times book review of a new book by David Owen: Going Green: What Cities can Teach the Country. Owen's main point is that the huge metropolis of New York City is actually the greenest, most environmentally responsible place in the US, due in large part to its density, walkability and infrastructure.

Although I'm not sure I'm buying his entire argument (especially since I've only read the book review), I completely agree that to be truly green, cities must be densely populated rather than spread out across the horizon, and they must be correctly laid out to take advantage of urban density. This is where New York, and many other cities, beat Indianapolis hands down. There are few places in Indianapolis where one can walk or even bike to the grocery, dry cleaner, drugstore, doctor, bus stops, and other consumer needs. Within the Milesquare downtown, Broad Ripple and Fountain Square, where I live, are the only areas where that's possible in this city. In these few spots we have smart growth left over from the era before that name had a meaning. It's here in these innercity neighborhoods where we can and must proselytize our lifestyles. Developers can talk about New Urbanisim all they want, but West Clay will never be as smart as Fountain Square.

Going green is the best argument for innercity development that could be made. If we reopen the shopping nodes that once offered up goods and wares on neighborhood street corners, then we are being smart. When we put money into our urban areas we are also meeting all three of the greenies "R"s: reduce, reuse, recycle by filling up existing homes, not by building new ones on the city edges.

The review of Owen's book makes note of something that dovetails nicely with a message I've been preaching for the last few years. It says that Owen critizes those "who waste money on "inappropriate technology" such as solar panels while failing to beef up roof insulation, drive less, downsize or purchase more efficient HVAC systems." This is a mirror of how I feel about those who insist that to be "green" and not waste energy they must put new, Energy Star windows in their old house. When what they really need to do is insulate their roofs, recaulk their beautiful old windows, buy some insulated drapes which they close to keep out the sun in summer and open for solar gain in winter, and plant a tree in front of the window to create shade in the hot months.

Windows in old homes appear to be the low-hanging fruit which seems ripe for the picking. And it's true that those old windows may never be exactly as efficient as the hyped new ones. But if they are made to be as efficient as they can be, where they already exist, they are also preventing the need for manufacturing and shipping a new set of windows and for landfilling the old ones. Again: all three Rs.

And a P. Preservation.

I hope that as we environmentalists think about the future world we want to leave in good shape for our children's children, we also consider the architectural legacy we can leave for them. Pulling out the old windows from your Victorian or even your Mid-Century home means that it can no longer convey its history at a glance. It isn't the historic home anymore. And it may not have gained much in the way of conservation, either. It certainly doesn't gain you as much conserved energy as spraying cellulose insulation into your attic would have, or installing a new HVAC, or insulating your foundation.

So if you live in the city, and particularly if you live in an old home, be Smart. Be Green. Old house owners who live in a walkable community can be the greenest of all the citizens. We are triple R-ers!

Downtown gets Some Good Design

It's easy to complain about architecture I don't like (see the preceding post). There is a fair amount of uninteresting or downright awful architecture in Indianapolis. The good news is that there are also a few, mostly smaller-scale projects in the city that are both pleasing to look at and a good fit as infill projects within historic neighborhoods.

It's probably easier to reach a consensus about what's bad than about what's good, but these are three relatively recent (within the last 5 years or so) projects that hit on all cylinders in terms of scale, proportion, context and design. I know the design firm of only one of these projects but this isn't an advertisement so I'm not mentioning them nor seeking to find out who designed the other two.

The condo development at 10th and Park is my favorite newish residential building in the city. It's been finished for just a few years, within the last 3, I believe. I love this building. For once an Indianapolis architect/builder has taken a chance with materials other than red brick and clapboard. This is also a very modern design that manages to fit perfectly into the locally designated Chatham Arch Historic District. Matching the setback of the exisitng buildings on the street, the designer also managed a building of similar proportions and scale as those already existing in the district. It doesn't hurt that this building abuts another new development, but this one also plays well off of the turn-of-the-century four-squares to the west. The dark brown and tan brick sections are juxtaposed against luminous glazed block. The material changes make the exterior interesting and modern; a flat roof also adds to the modern feel. And the huge plate glass windows lend an interesting commercial feel to the facade, which fits nicely into this mixed- use neighborhood. This is good design that, unlike the 3 Mass building, for instance, pays attention to its neighborhood and manages to fit perfectly into a historic district.

Another new residential development I like is the shed-roof building in Holy Rosary District just west of Virginia Avenue. Until the terrible Villagio building went up in front of these condos this would have been a great place to live. The shed roof and quirky color choices on the balconies make this a very modern design and even the landscaping around the building is fun and modern. At the same time, the proportions, scale, set-back and that shed-roof (a common element found on additions and outbuildings in the historic buildings of the area) help the building fit perfectly within the historic neighborhood.

Finally, the newest residential development in the Fletcher Place area is also shaping up to be a winner. This group of buildings, facing both College and Fletcher Avenue, are the most traditional of the three developments I've talked about, but given their location, right in the middle of Fletcher Place, and the lack of other new buildings around them, the choice of a more traditional gabled design seems like a good one here. And the developers have made a nod to modern in their funky orange and chartreuse siding and irregular windows openings on the College Avenue facades, while taking a more traditional approach with dark blue clapboard and double-hung windows along Fletcher Avenue. The development looks fresh and new and not just because it is. But it also fits well within a historic district that has a collection of some of the finest old homes in the city.

Kudos to the developers of these three sites who found ways to be modern without overwhelming the historic architecture that they are joining. I hope to see more of this type approach in our city, which has allowed far too much suburban type development right downtown. We don't want the suburbs in Indianapolis. A city should be a showplace of URBAN development and architecture. We don't have much to show, but these three developments are a start.

Downtown Deserves Better Design

Downtown Indianapolis has a housing problem. I am not referring to the abandoned and foreclosed homes that blight many of our neighborhoods. This is a problem of new, prominent construction projects that are a visual blight in our built environment. I work as an architectural historian and am keenly aware that buildings have a huge and lasting impact on a city. I am also an aficionado of good modern design who thinks that new buildings should be stylish and well-designed avatars of the 21st Century.

Unfortunately, two of downtown’s recent, large-scale residential projects, the Villagio and 3 Mass condos, will represent our times to future historians as unattractive architectural mistakes completely out of context, scale and proportion with their neighborhoods. Massive buildings don’t dissipate like a bad smell over time. They can stink up a city for centuries, and these two are real stinkers.

If you haven’t seen the enormous nine-story box called the Villagio, you should. Drive south on Virginia Avenue as you pass it so that you get the full effect of the off-kilter concrete parking garage at the rear, as well. And if you think the front of the building is unattractive, take a gander at the rear. The developers snubbed their noses at three historic neighborhoods: Fletcher Place, Holy Rosary and Fountain Square with this manila-colored blank wall blocking the view of downtown.

A building that looks like a timeshare on the beach of Panama City, Florida, is inappropriate at this prominent gateway to the beautiful residential architecture of Fletcher Place and the Bohemian-tinged Fountain Square. This is not just an unattractive building, it is a monstrous clunky cube plunked awkwardly on a triangular tract of land. The square footprint defies the logic of the flatiron shape that our clever ancestors fit so perfectly onto city lots such as this one. Worst of all, the Villagio’s massiveness ensures that it’s here to stay. And the city is worse off for it.

Another residential project still under construction is also shaping up as a sad architectural blunder. The 3 Mass condos in the 300 block of Massachusetts Avenue are a good idea gone badly wrong. While the concept of filling a surface parking lot with a mixed-use condo/commercial unit is commendable, the actual building isn’t. From the corner of New York and Delaware, the disturbing juxtaposition of its hulking hugeness pushed up against the beautiful flatiron building in front of it conjures up the image of a whale about to swallow a tuna.

On Massachusetts Avenue, the heavy brick façade overwhelms the comparatively small-scaled and elegant historic buildings that are its neighbors. 3 Mass is out of context in this charming historic district. An attractive modern design of appropriate scale and proportion could have worked well at this spot, but this isn’t attractive and it doesn’t work.

Thankfully there is reason to be hopeful that there won’t be other Villagios or 3 Masses in our future. The latter rushed into construction before Massachusetts Avenue was designated part of a local historic district, which would now require design review by the Indianapolis Historic Preservation Commission. And in 2008, after Villagio and 3 Mass had been approved, the city instituted new Urban Design Guidelines. These new guidelines are intended to “set standards that will produce a more thoughtful design response to Regional Center development projects.” That thoughtful design response was sorely needed in these two projects.

Buildings are important in how we view ourselves as a people and a city. If Indianapolis is to become the “world class” city that we hear so much about we can only hope that these new guidelines will prevent such monumental mistakes in the future.

Note: a slightly softened version of this piece appeared in the September 5, 2009 IBJ as an Op-Ed.

Out the 9th floor window

I've spent this week on the 9th floor of what's now the Flagstar bank building at Penn and Washington streets, in downtown Indianapolis. Great view of the city out the windows of that old building. Some amazing old buildings that I normally see from the street up please me even more from the top down. I love all the terra cotta and carved limestone decorations at rooftop level on so many of the downtown buildings. Sweet details easily missed in passing. And it'sreally great to see the Soldiers and Sailors monument from its level.


What I didn't enjoy seeing were the two recently reskinned buildings just south of Washington Street, the Broadmoor Building and whatever they are calling the building now housing Scotty's Brewhouse.

I absolutely hate what they did to the quirky but interesting zipper building (a former Merchant's Drive-in Bank constructed in 1961) when they morphed it into the Broadmoor. Ick. Although I didn't think the Zipper was a particularly significant building, it was at least fun. Kind of like a big set of dentures smiling out at the street. Its new incarnation, with its bland marble walls and that ridiculous central clock, looks like it belongs on a fake street at Disneyland. It's a sort of poor man's contemporary-Americana style. The only good thing about the view down at that building is the occasional appearance of a man in full gaucho outfit emerging from the Fogo de Chao steakhouse inside it. Only when these employees come outside to take a smoke in their puffy shirts and knickers does the building provide something to smile about.


The other recently altered building, where Scotty's Brewhouse takes up the entire first floor, has also been reskinned. This building now has walls of windows with a sort of oil slick variation in color and a weird plexiglass appearance. Are those actually glass windows? They sure don't look like it. And the mullions and muntins dividing the panes are fat and clunky, eliminating any chance that it might have had at appearing appealingly "modern." This building, which was constructed in the early 20th century, was previously altered in the 1960s into an unremarkable streamlined concrete and glass structure. Although it was unremarkable before, now it has the appearance of a Schaumburg chain store.

Not surprisingly, I prefered the old building facades of both these buildings. I wish the Zipper's new owners would have expanded the building vertically, so that it would make better use of its prime downtown real estate, making our city smarter. This blah renovation is worse than the amusing original.

As for the brewhouse building. What was was late 1960s-early 70s generic is now 2009 generic.

Not all old buildings are significant pieces of architecture. Healthy cities change; old buildings get replaced or redone. Sometimes that's ok. It seems unlikely that either of these buildings would have been candidates for the National Register before they were altered. But, changes could have made them both much more attractive and modern. But these two buildings are now suburban mall-generic, sad juxtapositions to the stylishly detailed Italianate, Art Deco, and Chicago Style buildings that surround them.

Why Buy an Old House if you Want a New One?

A lot of what I do for a living is evaluating old houses to see if they might be eligible for the National Register of Historic Places. That means I spend much of my time looking at what people do to their old house and talking to them about the changes they've made.

I'm always amazed and appalled at the folks who are so damn proud that they put in all new windows, doors and vinyl siding and replaced the old porch with a deck. Wha?! These are exactly the things that made your house interesting.

What I try not to say, but can't keep from thinking is: great, now everything that was old is new and the house is completely uninteresting. I just don't understand why people buy old houses if they really want a new one. There are cheap new houses. Many times cheaper than buying an old one and completely redoing it. So why make these changes that rob the house, and the neighborhood and community, of a building that might have been significant enough to be listed on a register kept by someone with the exceedingly cool job title of Keeper of the National Register?

If your old windows leak, plug the worst leaks, install storms, hang insulated drapes, or even cover them with window film in the winter. DON'T pull them out and stick in vinyl windows that don't even fit the original openings properly. A front porch is a thing of beauty that reminds us of the times when a family gathered in this cool spot on hot summer days to visit with the neighbors or look out at the cornfields. Even in some new housing developments, like West Clay in Carmel, Indiana, a "new urbanism" community (at least they call it that), porches are understood as important elements of community building, as well as design. Please, I'm begging you, keep your old porches. Use them.

Porches, windows, doors, siding. These are the fabric of your home. And these are key elements in your homes historic integrity. If you buy an old house, appreciate it for what it is, not what you can turn it into. Make changes if you need to on the interior but be sensitive about changing the exterior.

You may think your house isn't significant and it doesn't matter what you do to it. Maybe it's a common type, like a ranch. It's hard for us to appreciate what our parent's generation built. But, ranch houses of the 1950s are now old enough to be "historic." There are ranches on the National Register already, as well as entire districts of mid-century modern homes. Their aluminum windows and sliding glass doors are important elements of their original design. Keep them if you can.

And if you're looking at buying a home and just can't live with old windows, original doors and porches, on a house that's 50 years old or older. Please, consider just buying a new house, or a trailer. We need those old houses. They help define who we are and where we've been as a people.