First of all, here's a bridgey thing for N__B:
However, all is not peaches, cream, and zombie beer. As Ned points out, it is still quite typical to see the 'tear that old shit down' attitude, even in areas where the renovation of structures has been proven to be a viable and beneficial strategy.
Somewhat less interesting, perhaps, I started developing an interest in adaptive reuse and historic preservation while in college; converting buildings to new uses just seemed like so much fun to me. I even started to become interested in history and how the built environment affected, and was affected by, history. And the firm I worked for did some of that; much in the Third Ward, and whenever we visited other cities, invariably looked for the factory district to see what was going on. Cleveland; St. Louis; Minneapolis, Chicago.
Milwaukee, as is her way, got onto that train late. But my career, such as it is, has been inextricably intertwined with reuse and renovation since the very first days. My first job was in a former cigar factory; after that, starting a firm with two friends in another loft building, eventually starting my own firm in a small tannery building, very near to the one in these photos. And now, my office is in a building on one of the oldest extant streets in Milwaukee, a building built in 1858. I sometimes say that it has so far been kind of nice to never have worked in an office with drop ceilings and fluorescent lay-in lighting (nor elevators).
During that third phase, when I was starting independent practice, part of this complex became one of my first significant projects. In fact, you can see just a corner of the renovation I planned, beyond the buildings under demolition. At the time, the owners (who were the descendants of the founders of the tannery) had just mothballed the majority of the complex, and were barely occupying the office and warehouse, Buildings One and Two. We converted them to 27 apartments, and eventually added 4 more, as well as parking, when they went to condos.
We often talked about long term plans for the remainder of the ste, and I did a bit of preliminary planning for such. The buildings were already designated as a National Historic District; historic preservation tax credits would have been applicable. However, as these things go, the family members involved disagreed about how best do this, and they decided to involve a succession of real estate management companies, each of which had their own ideas and agendas and very little knowledge of reuse and preservation. My advice went largely unheard, and as I was consulted less and less, the maintenance of the buildings was reduced to nothing. Look; I understand that. It
Meanwhile, the Family squabbled. None of them felt any particular financial pressure to make it happen; all were wealthy from inheritance or their own careers. All were getting up in age, and I think saw no need to work very hard to preserve their family's built legacy or make any more money, unless it was very short term. I guess for some people, money is enough of a legacy. Or the only legacy.
A couple of years ago, they decided to tear down some of the more questionable buildings. Based on my experience, I told them they were eminently reusable, in light of the amount of effort it takes in an adaptive project; but I guess they preferred to heed the advice of people who had no experience. Three buildings remained, numbers 3, 18, and 24. The most usable of the lot.
I first got involved with this complex over fifteen years ago, and that is a lot of time in Wisconsin weather. Buildings decay fast, even if the basic structures are good. And in recent years, who has had money to take on these kinds of projects? My initial SWAGs were on the order of 25 million dollars.
So now they are tearing down these last buildings. I recognize it is the owner's prerogative. It will result in 1000 lineal feet of developable river frontage (if you ignore whatever environmental taint remains; I confess I have no knowledge of such). Of course, the same was true if the buildings were reused; and to my mind, loft buildings with that kind of river frontage were just as valuable, if not more. Those historic preservation tax credits will no longer apply; they could have been up to 25% of the construction cost.
Look, left to my own devices, I like design of the times. When I do new buildings, I usually aim in a modern vein (although, N__B, not so much glass boxy). It's the 21st Century, and we should design that way (keeping in mind, that buildings and cities should for the most part be designed for people, not cars). That does not mean that they can't coexist. In fact, one of the most charming spots in Milwaukee had, at one point, simultaneously a Renaissance Revival style medical clinic, a reflective glass box office building, a 70s amoeboid hospital, and a gothic water tower, that coexisted in lovely peace (at least until the hospital tore most of it down to build a thyroidal new facility that has none of the specific charms of any of the former pieces. The water tower remains, but lessened.) The straightforward integrity of old industrial structures is kind of special, and keeping them as vital parts of our built environment provides benefits both tangible and intangible. Keeping those structures vital enriches our lives and increase our connection to our cities and our ancestors. Building new alongside them builds connections to our future.
But as B-4 has said on another post, another piece of history gets shoved into the trash pile. Another National Historic District gets shoved down the memory hole. And it didn't need to be. If only there had been someone available with knowledge of the site and buildings, and skill in reuse, and some small vision to see what could have been.....
