Burying The Past

     The Buildings of Detroit website is a valuable source of information when it comes to the architectural history of the city.  The name, however, is a bit of a misnomer; it should actually be called "The Buildings Of Detroit Prior To 1930, Except For The Unusual Inclusion Of An Architecturally Insignificant Tiki Restaurant From 1967"  I point this out, not to disparage its authors who, I'm certain, work very hard to update the site and do an excellent job, especially with their vigilance in keeping an eye on and documenting many of the endangered buildings in the city; but rather as an example of what seems to be a prevailing attitude toward architecture of more recent vintage.  Which is to say, basically, no one cares.  This is why the city's decision last month to tear down the Ford Auditorium, built in 1955, elicited a barely audible cry of dissent, and that is unfortunate. 

     The recent announcement of Detroit's census figures, showing a 25% population decrease in the last decade alone, has brought back wistful memories of the city in the 1950s when the population was more than two and a half times what it is today.  Oddly enough, these memories don't usually recall what was being built in the city at the time.  Reverential thoughts are reserved instead for the theaters, skyscrapers and office buildings of the 1920s or earlier.  This is akin to ignoring the Ford Thunderbird and pining for the days of the Model A.  But if you really want an idea of where the city was headed at the time of its population peak, the best place to look is the area around the Ford Auditorium.  You must be careful, however, because a lot of what you see was pieced-in later; the most obvious being that looming jerk which is the Renaissance Center.

    The auditorium anchors the eastern edge of what no one calls the Civic Center.   Yes, you can follow freeway exits to the Civic Center, but if you ask anyone on the street to point you toward the Civic Center, most likely they won't know what you're talking about.  The Civic Center was an idea put forth by the Mayor-ahead-of- his-time, Hazen S. Pingree, in 1890.  Freeway signs notwithstanding, this idea has yet to come to fruition.  This, despite attempts in 1924 by Eliel Saarinen and again, along with his son Eero in 1947, to design a master plan for the area at the foot of Woodward Avenue.  The 1947 model called for a Veterans Memorial Building which was built in 1951, a City-County building, rendered in a much different style than the Saarinen's proposed, in 1955, and a circular venue which was realized in the form of Cobo Hall in 1960, along with the Ford Auditorium, which can be seen toward the right in a photograph of the plan below.  It is facing west instead of the orientation in which it was finally built, turned 90 degrees clockwise.

    Standing in the Civic Center today, in what became Hart Plaza, some things compliment the auditorium's modern, austere aesthetic while others undoubtedly do not.  Isamu Noguchi's 120 foot tall "Pylon" does, if not so much his Dodge fountain.  To the north, two of downtown's best examples of Detroit's march into the gleaming future, Minoru Yamasaki's Consolidated Gas Company Building (now One Woodward Avenue) from 1963 and the aforementioned City-County Building (now the Coleman A. Young Municipal Center) from 1955, provide an inkling of what direction the city was headed.  This is the city everyone was so excited about by the time the space age came around.  This is the city of 1.85 million people.
     The main thing missing from the plan today, however, is greenery.  Visiting Hart Plaza you get the sense you are walking on a giant, multi-tiered wedding cake made from concrete.  All this concrete mixed with an absurd number of light poles, security cameras, useless signs, meaningless solid-color flags, and various odd vents coming out of the ground, make the Ford Auditorium look like it was left behind in the parking lot of a mall.  This is quite an indignity for a building which was actually designed to be appealing, its exterior made from Swedish blue pearl granite and marble.
    It's setting is all wrong now though, its clean lines and simple cubic mass are obscured by all that has gone on around it in the name of progress; to the point where now it is looked upon as the problem.  It seems the place never really got its due.  First it was positioned wrong, then it was dwarfed by an obnoxious neighbor and finally it was surrounded by adjunct junk.  The place deserves another chance, which is why I'm proposing the city carry on its grand tradition of moving buildings and transport it to one of the vast empty lots on the east side, where it could be surrounded by thoughtful landscaping and unencumbered so its true beauty could finally be revealed. 
    The sad thing about Mayor Bing's decision, and the city council's approval, to demolish the building is that Bing would like to build an amphitheater on the site.  I believe he's just saying this so it appears he has a plan, because normally when the city tears something down they decide what to do with the land after the fact, but I'll call his bluff on this one.
    So, Mayor Bing, what you're saying is, this year-round music venue is standing in the way of you building a music venue which could only be used a few months out of the year?  Beside the obvious, there is another serious problem with this plan and I know, Mr. Mayor, you only moved to the city so you could run it, so maybe you're unfamiliar, but there already is an amphitheater on the river.  It's within walking distance from downtown for any able-bodied person and it's called Chene Park.  How about that, you've already got what you wanted?  While I have your ear though I'm going to give you one more idea, assuming you're intent to go forth with demolition and you find my proposal for moving the building unfeasible.  (As with all the ideas I've set forth in this blog I expect to not hear from your office once again, so the pressure is really off.).
     As others have said, if the Ford Auditorium is demolished the space should revert back to a public green space.  But if this is the case, why tear down the building?  Why not just bury it?  Done properly, elements of the auditorium, particularly its vertical expanses of blue granite, could be left exposed.  Meanwhile the roof, covered in grass and approached by a sloped lawn would provide downtown with a nice terraced vantage point.  The other good thing about this plan is, not only would it be cheaper, but if fifty or a hundred years from now they realize it was a mistake to tear down such an amazing example of  mid-twentieth century architecture they can simply dig it back up. 

   
    Photograph of 1947 Detroit Civic Center model by Harvey Croze from the Cranbrook Archives.