"Moon Over Chicago" by Ken Ilio
Chicago has a long history of architecture preservation. Even before the city was decimated by its famous fire, people embraced the physical beauty of architecture and worked to keep historic buildings from feeling the hot kiss of a flying wrecking ball.
But, eventually, every building will outlive its usefulness. In a few of these cases, the spirit of the original building can be preserved through what’s colloquially known as a “facadectomy.”
The best example of this in Chicago is the McGraw-Hill Building.
McGraw-Hill Building by Gerald Figal
Built in 1929 at 520 North Michigan Avenue, it was one of the signature structures of a boulevard that would quickly become a source of regional pride and a national shopping destination. But as the 20th century drew to a close, the fate of the historic building became fuzzy. It stood in the way of the construction of a billion-dollar retail, office, and hotel complex.
Those who stood by the McGraw-Hill Building pushed the city of Chicago to protect it by naming it a historic landmark. Their wish was granted in 1997… sort of. The building’s facade was landmarked. The building itself was not.
As a result, the outer skin of the 70-year-old high rise was cut into pieces, labeled, catalogued, and stored in a warehouse while a new hotel was built in its place. When the hotel was finished, the historic facade was pieced together and affixed to the outside of the new building.
Visually, the average person sees no difference. As far as John and Jane Public are concerned, it’s a lovely 80-year-old building. To hardcore preservationists, it’s Hannibal Lecter in an architecturally hideous mask.
Critics had good reason to worry when preservation of McGraw-Hill was first suggested. Just a decade earlier, a Loop building underwent a facadectomy that, to this day, is widely regarded as a visual disaster.
Photo Credit: Brian Boyer
The Otis building was a four-story office building with intricate terra cotta ornamentation and an architecturally pleasing look. But a four-story building makes no sense on the Midwest’s version of Wall Street. So in 1986, the 37-story 10 South LaSalle Street Building was erected. The architects essentially shoved a massive cobalt blue skyscraper into the skin of the old Otis building, with the top 33 floors sticking out of the roof.
Although some semblance of the original building was retained, it’s hard not to miss the enormous blue monster looming above, completely failing to match the limestone elegance of its neighbors.
The later success of the McGraw-Hill transplant seems to have proven that such an operation can be successfully done. Since then, a row of historic storefront facades along Wabash Street have been preserved while The Legacy at Millennium Park, a residential skyscraper, went up behind them.
The Ritz-Carlton Residences, Chicago, now under construction, is following the same route as the successful McGraw-Hill Building down the street. The developers for the luxury condominiums have removed the facade of the old Farwell Building. It is being restored and will be affixed to the podium portion of the new condo block.
While there will always be die-hard naysayers who complain that such procedures violate the historical integrity of a property, others point out that sometimes it’s unavoidable. Sometimes old buildings have to die so that others may be born in their place.
Someday, the Empire State Building and the Willis Tower will meet their ends, too. And while it’s sad to think that such icons will one day see the same fate, it cannot be denied that since the beginning of time, destruction has been the necessary predecessor of creation. Time changes all things and between a photograph or a facade, the transplant may very well be the better architectural heritage to leave for the next generation.
Wayne Lorentz writes The Chicago Architecture Blog for the Artefaqs Corporation.
Photo Credits: Brian Boyer, Ken Ilio, Gerald Figal
