Utah's Space Age Temples at Ogden and Provo

Mormon temple construction succumbed to the strains of economic depression in the 1930s and the distractions of World War II in the 1940s, a construction drought lasting nearly two decades. Construction resumed in 1945 with the completion of a temple in Idaho Falls, Idaho. Additional temples were constructed in Bern, Switzerland in 1955, Los Angeles, California in 1956, Hamilton, New Zealand and London, England in 1958, and Oakland, California in 1964. The temples in the post-war period were distinctly modern, vis-à-vis the early Utah temples, with their minimalist vernacular. This new breed was devoid of extravagant ornament, yet still suited to the established temple typology. The Idaho Falls Idaho Temple resembles a wedding cake with its progressive setbacks which eventually resolve into the central spire. The Bern Switzerland Temple, the London England Temple, and the Hamilton New Zealand Temple all formally exhibit a heavy and grounded rectangular main massing contrasted with a spire engaged in the front façade with a distinct vertical character. The Los Angeles California Temple exhibits a more elaborate base, in the form of a Greek cross, yet maintains the vertical spire on the front of the massing. The Oakland California temple is a derivation of the Los Angeles Temple but with five spires, with prominence given to the spire in the center of the massing. The four lesser spires act more as pinnacles, an extension of the main mass. Although these were modern temples, the interior spaces were designed for the traditional live ceremony with two important exceptions.


As if to usher in the modern era, in 1953 President David O. McKay commissioned a 16-millimeter film version of the endowment ceremony, up until that time it was a live ceremony, to be used in the one-room Swiss Temple. However, the Oakland temple was the first temple designed with the intention of modernizing the temple ritual by implementing 35-millimeter projection screens for a new film in the endowment rooms, thus altering the traditional interior plan and modernizing the temple ceremony. The Oakland temple bridged the transition between the earlier and less efficiently managed ‘live-action’ temples and the streamlined efficiency of the neo-modern temples, the first two being the Provo Utah and Ogden Utah temples, both of which were built in 1972 and designed by then Church Architect Emil B. Fetzer. Each exhibited a solitary central spire, vaguely reminiscent of the post-war temple typology, but embraced an obvious, yet highly abstract, ornamental program to embellish the exterior, something the immediately preceding temples lacked. Formally, both consisted of a rectangular massing with soft chamfered corners articulated with alternating attenuated windows within wider solid spandrels, all detached and elevated from its larger orthogonal base through the use of a narrow band of windows recessed from the face of the main block above. A tall central spire contrasted with the main form like a toothpick through a Reuben. These new Utah temples exhibited formal characteristics anathema to the traditional temple building typology. The new forms boasted of heightened efficiency of the ceremonies within and, therefore promoted a sense of fretful urgency to the work. Each served a large population center, relieving the stress on the overburdened Salt Lake Temple.

The Ogden and Provo Utah Temples both resemble a futuristic architecture and would greatly influence the architecture of the Washington D.C. Temple (1974), next in line and in design during the construction of the two Utah temples. An associative metaphor is a method whereby one comes to understand the unfamiliar modern building with something that one understands through familiarity. The Apollo Space program depended on the sleek and streamlined Saturn V rocket boosters to propel the astronauts’ module beyond the terrestrial frontiers and into the great voids of space. The Ogden and Provo Temples captured the same imagery in their architecture with the spires resembling the Saturn V breaking away from the earthly tether atop of pillar of fire and the main massing resembling the billowing exhaust from the powerful rocket boosters. This familiar imagery was seared in the collective memory of America in July 1969 as Apollo 11 targeted the Moon. Although the Saturn V symbolic imagery was likely unintended by the architect, the intended symbol of the new Utah temples, the Hebraic pillar of fire and the cloud God employed to stifle the Egyptian army as Israel made her miraculous escape, was very similar. The Ogden and Provo Temples are unlike any other temple, they are larger symbols, where the architectural systems of space, structure, and program are subordinated and suppressed by the overall symbolic form. As Robert Venturi alleged: “This type of building-becoming-sculpture we call the duck in honor of the duck shaped drive-in, “The Long Island Duckling.” The Provo and Ogden Utah temples are therefore ducks in Post-Modern theory.

Both temples occupy very diverse sites. The Ogden Temple is sited near the center of downtown, the Provo Temple at the foot of the craggy Y Mountain, atop Provo’s east bench. The Ogden Temple is seen from without the city and the Provo Temple is seen from within the city. Although the architecture of each reflects its time, both have been continuously impugned by architectural critics and church members alike for their lack of religious aesthetics worthy of Mormonism’s most important building type. The Church has made attempts to refine and standardize each of the outstanding temples in recent years by painting the gold colored spires a bland and boring white and perching a gilded Angel Moroni at the top. Each temple was designed and conceived of as a machine with a singular functional motive: to relentlessly churn out ordinance work for the living and dead. In that regard, each has been highly successful and despite the paucity of architectural acceptance, each has assumed an iconic presence and defined a sense of place.

However, in November 2009, the nonagenarian former architect Emil Fetzer died. As if signaling a green light, the Church immediately developed plans to update the Ogden temple and on February 17, 2010, ceremoniously announced plans to scrap the iconic Ogden exterior for one resembling the newly completed Draper, Utah temple, which is the new “standard plan” for temples. In other words, the iconic Ogden temple will no longer be iconic, but will become a bland and monotonous member of the new group.  Additional upgrades will include improvements to the old electrical, heating and plumbing systems with more modern, energy-saving systems. As well, the above ground parking will be eliminated and an underground parking garage will be constructed along with a complete redesign of of the temple block. The changes affect the adjacent Ogden tabernacle which will lose its spire in submission to the more hierarchically important building type. Paul Anderson, a Mormon temple scholar, opined that the Ogden Temple's look was controversial from the beginning. He added: “Some of the building materials were associated with commercial, not sacred architecture, and the location on a main city street, rather than elevated above it, added to that impression.” For one as conversant as Anderson, the precedent for siting the temple in an urban setting gained acceptance with the early temples, Kirtland, Ohio, Nauvoo, Illinois, and especially Salt Lake City, Utah, which functions as Mormonism’s primary architectural symbol.

Architectural preservationists should be up in arms about the planned changes. The Ogden Utah temple, along with its close twin, represent a paradigmatic shift in the way in which Mormons conceived and interpreted the temple, transitioning from the temple as a sacred structure to the temple as a machine. As the Church’s 14th and 15th operating temples, and two of four built in the 1970s, these were designed for ordinance work, and not as places of refuge and communion for the faithful adherents. As the sense of urgency for temple work increased, twenty-six temples were constructed in the 1980s, twenty-four in the 1990s, and sixty-one in the first decade of the twenty-first century. The update to the Ogden facade represents a rejection of the history associated with these specific temples.  Ironically, the Church made a gross error in the 1970s when it allowed architect Emil Fetzer to gut the interior of the historic Logan Utah temple and replace it with a disturbing 1970s interior, closely reminiscent of the Ogden and Provo interiors.  The same intentions seem to be at play with this planned renovation.

A member of the Church’s presiding First Quorum of the Seventy, Elder William R. Walker explained, “the Ogden Utah Temple has been a beacon of faith in downtown Ogden for nearly forty years and has blessed those who have served and worshipped within its walls. We hope these improvements will not only better serve Church members but also add to the beauty of downtown Ogden for all to enjoy.” He further explained that, "It basically is the same as building a new temple.” The decision to reinvent the exterior of the temple originated from the three members of the Church's governing First Presidency Walker added, because “they thought it somewhat dated.” One hopes that the First Presidency will moderate their extreme architectural urges when they consider the outdatedness of the Salt Lake, Manti, Logan, St. George, and for that matter any temple constructed prior to the Ogden Utah temple.

© 2010 Steven D. Cornell

Sources
1.  Buerger, David John. The Mysteries of Godliness: A History of Mormon Temple Worship. Smith Research Associates: San Francisco. 1994. 167.

2.  Jencks, Charles. The Language of Post-Modern Architecture. 3rd Edition. Rizzoli: New York. 1977. 40.

3.  Venturi, Robert, Denise Scott Brown and Steven Izenour. Learning From Las Vegas : The Forgotten Symbol of Architectural Form. Cambridge, MA : MIT Press, 1977. 87.

4.  Salt Lake Tribune. February 18, 2010. 'Somewhat dated' LDS temple to get new look.

American Fork Main Street

The recently constructed Good Earth Whole Foods development on West Main Street in American Fork is blatantly more conspicuous than the early 20th century house it replaced and therefore more impressive in our collective memory. With little effort the developer abandoned the historic value of the site and in a larger sense further eroded the historic fabric of American Fork’s Main Street. The ostensibly trivial removal of elements in American Fork’s historic core do not seem to be a legitimate concern to those involved in local city planning. It’s akin to whittling away at the base of a mature oak tree, initially the cuts are harmless, but over time the cumulative effect undermines the entire structural system and destroys the tree with catastrophic and irreversible effect. Death by a thousand cuts, as it were.

The proposal to demolish the historic house was presented at a planning commission meeting in 2006. A few local preservationists in attendance spoke in defense of the historic structure on Main Street and decried the proposed Good Earth development. If and when historic architecture is replaced, the replacement should be better than that which is replaced and should at a minimum reference the historic condition. There is so much potential to develop responsibly and sustainably, yet cities seem to lack resolve in upgrading exiting Euclidian codes and are reluctant to confront developers. The disruptive urban and architectural issues with the Good Earth development are numerous. The building is set back from the street face with parking areas awkwardly plopped in front paying homage to the automobile. Without decrying the distasteful nature of the architecture, to replace a historic residence with a strip mall is contrary to every current urban planning best practice.

The home’s eventual demise was delayed due to some technicalities in the approval process required for the demolition permit, but ultimately not prevented. During the course of that meeting the Planning Commission Director blithely remarked, “We can’t save everything.” The decision to demolish the structure was based on economic considerations and the director was accurate in suggesting that not everything can be saved. But when one looks at the losses to date in this growing community it is long past time to unequivocally affirm that the remaining historic architecture will not be sacrificed for mediocre and poorly conceived replacements. Decisions to demolish historic structures for the sake of economic development set dismal precedents. Economic development is essential to sustaining cities, but big box and strip mall development is inappropriate and counter productive in the downtown core and especially on historic main streets in small towns like American Fork. The community as a whole is failing to protect the historic core, and until an historic overlay district is established in the downtown core with city ordinances to boot, the trend will continue and increase toward substandard development allowing unabated erosion of the remaining historic architecture and destroying it as a public and civic place.

When one spreads the losses over a number of years and generations those losses are more easily accepted, but when the cumulative effect of the losses are considered it is revolting. It is difficult to imagine that American Fork City seriously considered the demolition of American Fork’s City Hall (1903) just a few years ago. After persistent determination on the part of local and state preservationists and some determined internal city administrators, City Hall was preserved and restored in 2006, reassuming it’s rightful position as American Fork’s crown architectural jewel and receiving numerous state preservation awards. City Hall is once again the metaphorical and physical center of American Fork City.

The economic benefit reaped by developers may not necessarily be beneficial for the fragile communities which we have desperately tried to establish and retain. With each loss towns like this moves one step further from creating and retaining a walkable and pedestrian friendly city center with public amenities which includes a compelling and attractive inventory of historic architecture. In short, a distinctive and unique city center where one prefers to be. With each loss we propel ourselves one step closer to an environment geared entirely toward the automobile, a metastasizing and ubiquitous phenomena which ultimately leads to pedestrian barren landscapes like US Highway 89 which is an unrelenting amassing of strip malls and car lots. A pedestrian no mans land, a non-place. The opposite of the non-place is obvious, as James Howard Kunstler put it: “The idea that people and things exist in some sort of continuity, that we belong to the world physically and chronologically, and that we know where we are.”

A major car dealership in American Fork recently expanded to the east resulting in the demolition of three houses in Columbia Village, a historic Post-war development built in the late 1940s. This just to expand a parking lot filled with gas guzzling super-charged Dodge Ram pickups. The losses will continue to accrue until communities decide enough is enough.

Using American Fork as a mirocosmic example, this trend is occurring in many of Utah’s local communities. All is done in the name of economic development, which in no way guarantees good development. What do we care though, as long as we optimize our conveniences and destroy what created our sense of community and sense of place, to ultimately establish our coveted new organic food stores, Wal-Mart Supercenters and Auto Malls to feed our relentlessly insatiable consumerism.

© 2010 Steven D. Cornell

Daybreak: the Good, the Bad and the Ugly

Daybreak is the most expansive and most socially responsible suburban residential development to grace Utah’s montane landscape since World War II. I say suburban development because it fits comfortably into the ubiquitous sprawling development model. Although Daybreak differs from the suburban model in many distinct and important ways, it still remains a greenfield development dependent on the automobile for its economic function. Suburb literally means ‘under the city’ deriving from the Latin suburbium,which described a general demographic division in which the upper classes tended to inhabit areas within the city wall on one of the Seven hills of Rome, while the lower classes lived outside of the walls and at the foot of the hills. The term ‘suburban’ in American culture has assumed a pejorative inference as any resident of Detroit will attest. Suburbia is a veritable wasteland, a non-place, a “geography of nowhere.”
The suburban development at Daybreak, sited at the foot of the Oquirrh Mountains, within the boundaries of South Jordan, was made possible by the large tracts of surplus acreage under the control of Kennecott Land, the real estate arm of Kennecott Utah Copper Corporation, which is itself a subsidiary of the multi-national mining magnate, Rio Tinto based in London. The development at Daybreak is but a fraction of the overall estimated 30 to 50 year build-out of the West Bench Development, which in the end will comprise “162,800 houses in neighborhoods mixing the wealthy and wage earners in shared communities of gardens, pocket parks and surrounding open space.” This mass of land, roughly 93,000 acres in all, is nestled between the rugged landscape of the Oquirrh Mountains to the west and the medium metropolis of Salt Lake City to the east, and is estimated to house a half a million new residents.

Daybreak, initially conceived as Sunrise, will occupy 4,200 acres when fully built-out and was intended from the outset to include a variety of housing types placed within proximate location, (i.e., walkable distances) to retail and commercial centers, all of which is surrounded by open space. These design elements define the difference between Daybreak and the traditional American suburb. A key component of the Daybreak development plan calls for construction of a mid-Jordan TRAX spur to parallel the development. Referred to as Transit Oriented Development, a term coined by Berkeley New-Urbanite planner and architect Peter Calthorpe and author of Daybreak’s master plan, Daybreak neighborhoods would be oriented around a transit hub to ostensibly convey residents to their jobs or other activities throughout Salt Lake Valley. Currently the TRAX extension is under construction and is expected to be completed in 2012. In the meanwhile, the Utah Transit Authority has met the burgeoning demand for multiple transit options at Daybreak by providing express bus routes for commuters heading downtown.

A visit to Daybreak’s website creates some lasting warm and fuzzies. However, there is a darker side to all of this. West Jordan and the surrounding communities have been burdened by costs for transit infrastructure development which are not being borne by UTA alone. Murray, Midvale, West Jordan and South Jordan, with help from Kennecott Land, agreed to give UTA $1.5 million to cover roughly half of the $3.2 million environmental impact study needed just to qualify for federal funding for the new TRAX line. The 10.5 mile line will cost in excess of 450 million dollars. The local community (i.e., Salt Lake County) will bear half the cost of the new line with proceeds from a sales tax hike that voters approved last year. In addition, lest one think that this community and the larger West Bench development can subsist on public transit alone, the Utah Department of Transportation has joined in. Believing multi-faceted transit options refers to multi-laned freeways systems UDOT is planning and constructing the Mountain View Corridor, a parallel freeway sited roughly 10 miles west of the commuter behemoth, Interstate-15, in response. The cost of constructing the new freeway system is currently estimated at $730 million dollars was allocated by the Utah State Legislature in the 2009 Legislative Session as part of a bonding package for start of construction in Salt Lake County. Costs to maintain and expand the new freeway system in the future will continue to burden the taxpayers and the tax payers children and their children. Does all of this sound familiar? While it may be a TOD in Peter Calthorpe’s eyes, it is also just another auto-dependent suburb with New Urban amenities. As well, clustered like fleas on a healthy dog at the entrance to Daybreak off of the auto-centric Bangerter Highway is “The District at South Jordan.” Comprising 120 acres, The District is anchored by big box commercial chains including Target, JC Penney and Larry H. Miller's 20-Screen Mega-Plex Theater, to name a few. The District offers approximately 1,200,000 square feet of retail space. The District is primarily marketed for its adjacency to the “Fastest Growing Residential Area in the Wasatch.” Civilization close at hand just in case the New Urbanite might need to hop in the automobile hidden in the rear alley and drive the 1.2 miles to Target for baby wipes. It’s like camping with a trailer, it just can’t be done, one excludes the other. There exists a hefty dose of subterfuge amidst the clean Disneyland appearance. It’s difficult to imagine why residents of Daybreak would forgo the use of the two or three automobiles they can easily afford to ride TRAX.

In near comical fashion, Ivory Homes announced in June of 2008 that it planned to start building homes in the North Shore Village. Apparently, the mighty recession makes even the most irresponsible sprawl developer in Utah desperate enough to stoop to traditional neighborhood design. At the time, Chris Gamvroulas, Ivory’s Development Director arrogantly stated, “We have our way of doing things, and they have their way of doing things. It takes a while to make the plans we designed fit their standards.” In other words, Daybreak may be desperate enough to keep construction progressing in a sluggish economy to make steep concessions to satisfy the whims of the careless developer. Stucco and vinyl siding were outlawed in previous Daybreak developments, yet the romantically labeled home styles in the Ivory repertoire such as Alden, Chadwick, Dearborn, Claybourne, Ivory Stratford, Imperial, and Hartford have somehow donned the contraband Ivory cladding.

Modeled on the Andres Duany’s iconic Seaside in Florida, Daybreak lacks key New Urban amenities. Given its emphasis on walkability, there seems to be little of that going on. A walk through Daybreak does not give the impression of a friendly, open community, with neighbors visiting on the street, but rather of a closed, insular landscape, because it is all a façade. The cars are hidden in the rear alley garage, and because the community is largely car dependent, the back door is where Daybreakers interact with the community at large. As well, Daybreak lacks a diverse demographic based on income level. Overall Utah is not rich in cultural and ethnic diversity and, therefore, those quotas may be unrealistic and unattainable. However, there exists a distinctive lower income and ethnic minority in Utah, both of which are excluded financially from residency in Daybreak. There are few if any janitors, mechanics, factory workers, maintenance workers, cooks, dishwashers, secretaries, firemen, etc., that live and work in Daybreak. Traditional Neighborhood Design calls for above-shop residences, granny-flats, basement apartments, etc., to provide housing alternatives for those with lower income levels to live and work in the immediate community. Daybreak has none of the above; alternative living quarters, with their working class occupants, would blight the clean and sterile environs essential to marketing the Daybreak experience. When a community lacks a representative income demographic, it lacks a local economy. Community in the words of James Howard Kunstler, “ [community] is a living organism based on a web of interdependencies – which is to say, a local economy.”

Perhaps Daybreak simply needs the patina of time to fill its large shoes. For example the tree-lined avenues seem barren given the immaturity of the arbor frame. The full layering of the street is, therefore, incomplete and emits a suburban hum. As well, as retail and commercial amenities fill in over time the community may become less dependent on outside retail and commercial attractions. The commercial and retail node, SoDa Row (for South Daybreak), a 45-acre Village Center is currently under construction and in the end, although it is a bit exclusive, will provide basic amenities for the community. A 185,000 square foot corporate center which will potentially house 700 employees was recently constructed on SoDa Row and the retail center will eventually house 130,000 square feet of mixed use office and retail space. Future retail nodes, such as Rubicon Road on the other side of Oquirrh Lake, will only add to its viability.

Time will tell, but in the meantime Daybreak has certainly embraced a vibrant vision of community and elevates a standard by which future developments will be judged.

© 2010 Steven D. Cornell

Sources
Kunstler, James Howard. “The Geography of Nowhere.”
New York Times, April 7, 2006. “Utah Mining Company Building City”
Salt Lake Tribune, September 30, 2001. “Kennecott Set to Mine Golden Real Estate”
Deseret Morning News. May 9, 2004. “Cities dig deep for TRAX line”
Salt Lake Tribune, October 29, 2007. “UTA poised to build light-rail line to South Jordan.”
http://nrt258.local.cbcworldwide.com/
Salt Lake Tribune. June 3, 2008. “Ivory joins Daybreak”

The Absurdity of the Odd Fellows Hall "Preservation"

The Odd Fellows Hall was designed by architect George F. Costersian and constructed in 1891, for the fraternal organization known by the same name. The Independent Order of the Odd Fellows (I.O.O.F.) was truly an oddity in this western Mormon stronghold. The I.O.O.F. was an altruistic fraternal organization derived from similar English Oddfellows service organizations which came into being during the 1700s, at a time when altruistic and charitable acts were far less common, hence the name. Excluding the majority Mormon population, the mainly Protestant and Jewish members of the Utah Order erected their new hall in the emerging non-Mormon sector at the south end of downtown. The Odd Fellows Hall represents one of the few commercial examples of Richardsonian Romanesque architecture remaining in Utah. The Odd Fellows vacated the building some years ago, and it has since served as office and restaurant space for various business enterprises. Most recently it has served as avian refuge for countless downtown pigeons. Situated just off of Salt Lake’s Main Street on Market Street (historically known as Post Office Block), a mid-block avenue between 3rd and 4th South Streets in the downtown area, the building has undergone relatively few exterior alterations in its 116 year history. The interior unfortunately was entirely gutted and stripped in the early 1980s of its Odd Fellows interiors and replaced with conventional office improvements. The original cast iron columns are the only remaining feature of the original interior.

The Federal Government’s building division, the General Services Administration (GSA), obtained the Odd Fellows property as part of an eminent domain acquisition of the entire block, and subsequently began planning for a much needed addition to the overburdened Frank E. Moss Federal courthouse located on the same block. The courthouse addition, by a prominent New York based architectural firm, Thomas Phifer and Associates, will imperialize the entire downtown block of this medium-size metropolis, a precondition established early in the design process by the GSA as a response to security and logistical concerns and, therefore, the 10 acre parking block directly to the south across 400 South was deemed inadequate for the needs of a modern Federal Courthouse. The historic Hotel Newhouse which occupied that site until 1983 was imploded for additional parking downtown, a use that persists today.

The new courthouse addition is a likely contemporary glass box and will be a key component to the economic and human vitality of the depressed downtown. Unfortunately, any vestige of the former structures occupying the block will have been completely erased. Early schemes of the westward expansion of the Moss made attempts to incorporate the Odd Fellows Hall in part or whole but these schemes were quickly abandoned for a more unencumbered design. Relocating the Odd Fellows Hall was a compromise reached by the GSA and local preservation groups in exchange for the condemnation and eventual demolition of three additional buildings situated inside the footprint of the planned courthouse addition, one of which regrettably is the 1912 Shubrick Hotel, one of the few remaining historic hotels in Salt Lake. For the last twenty years the Shubrick has housed the highly successful Port O’Call bar and restaurant and has functioned as an unintended gateway element to Salt Lake’s downtown. Sited on the downtown area’s main access to and from Interstate 15 from 400 South, the Shubrick Hotel demarcated southwest corner of the city center. However, as a compromise with the Utah Heritage Foundation, a private foundation dedicated to the preservation of Utah’s historic buildings and landscapes, the Shubrick Hotel was deemed less important given the façade of the Odd Fellows Hall is protected under a preservation easement by the Utah Heritage Foundation. In addition, the building itself was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1977.

The purported preservation of the Odd Fellows Hall comes at a hefty price to the taxpayer, approaching seven million dollars, and will in the end, do little to preserve the existing fabric of the building or necessarily extend the life of the building. Unfortunately, the seven million dollars will simply cover the cost to move the building from point a to point b. It will still be a neglected run down building upon arrival in its new home, or as some have characterized it, its “final resting place.” Built of un-reinforced masonry with an internal structural wood frame with three primary levels including a mezzanine, the building is a virtual seismic tinder box and the structural integrity of the building will have undoubtedly been compromised during the relocation. Cracking and movement in the existing brick masonry walls during the relocation was constantly monitored by the contractor. The few improvements being done as part of the relocation include a seismically robust concrete foundation on which the building will simply rest, a new internal emergency egress stair and some paint. Once the GSA disposes of the property by public auction the responsibility of funding necessary improvements to meet current seismic and safety codes and to render the building habitable will fall to the new owner, an ominous task which will be difficult if not impossible to pencil out in a pro-forma given the downtown real estate is likely worth more than the structure.

The GSA’s purpose in moving the building, outside of reaping the reward of being a showy preservation steward, was simply to clear the site of the nuisance. If this bureaucratic behemoth truly were the preservation steward they so painstakingly have attempted to prove, why not just finish the job and upgrade the building for a viable future use? The GSA’s responsibility with the Odd Fellows Hall ends once the building is moved off site. Little thought or concern will be expended by the GSA after that event. “Preservation steward” suddenly seems an ill fitting moniker. There is little preservation amid a whole lot of fluff. Because of the hefty price tag associated with any lasting restoration of the Odd Fellows Hall and the strict restrictions associated with the façade easement its immediate use seems to be in jeopardy. If Salt Lake City doesn’t immediately condemn the property once it is sold to a new owner, the city will have little more than a home for homeless pigeons, perpetuating its primary function prior to relocation. Unfortunately Salt Lake City has endured more than its fair share of urban invention and reinvention, and given the paucity of the existing historic building fabric, the city has slowly eroded away, with a few oscillating leaves still clinging to the tree. The overall absurdity of the Odd Fellows relocation is proof of the absurdity of the state of preservation. Fully exposed, the relocation is no different than premium demolition resulting from continued urban renewal.

Unfortunately this story is not unique. Countless historic buildings are cleared away to make way for new urban constructions. In some cases, the life of the historic building is extended, but the building itself does not fulfill any useful purpose and over time becomes disused and discarded, in other words simply demolition by neglect. If that occurs then it will all simply be a wasted effort. Communities are too often placated by the mere presence of the historic building and fail to understand the need for viable uses necessary to maintain and preserve its existence, an alliance which is a necessary precursor for unrivaled placemaking in delicate urban areas like Salt Lake’s downtown.

© 2010 Steven D. Cornell