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Art Deco Phoenix
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But TASB's work in Denver, where the Lower Downtown area has seen the influx of approximately 75,000 residents over the last two decades, gave the company a vision of what Phoenix could become.
"Downtown Phoenix is coming alive," Sheldon contends. "We don't have much in the line of retail, but retail will follow the residents. Phoenix as a city didn't really start until the mid-1950s. Prior to that they didn't have enough power to run air conditioning. It was only about 1956 or 1957 that they started to take off."
The architectural detail and craftsmanship of the art deco highrise (originally cooled with a chilled water loop system) is being preserved in the lobby. This includes decorative metal detailing crafted during the Great Depression, etched glass windows, a lavish marble and terrazzo staircase, and an ornate lobby directory that is listed in architectural textbooks.
"Our goal is to preserve the original exposed brick, decorative terra cotta, and remarkable detail in the interior, and to protect the original exterior brick, stone, granite, terra cotta and frame," says project architect Josh Comfort of The Lawrence Group. Lead paint, which existed mostly on the window frames and in acoustic tile, were carefully removed, and the asbestos is being either removed or encapsulated.
History versus Marketplace
Beyond the ground floor, however, the transformation of the office building into lofts has taken a controversial turn. The developer originally applied for tax credits for rehabilitating a historic building, but the credits came with a stipulation that the original plastered ceilings and walls be preserved.
Meanwhile, TASB extrapolated from their experience in Denver where lofts are normally built from rehabilitated warehouses, with a resulting aesthetic characterized by exposed brick and concrete. Those loft owners appreciate the bare framework, partly perhaps because it is an honest expression of the original structure.
But at the Orpheum Lofts, such a skeletal appearance was not characteristic of the original Art Deco interiors. As a result, a conflict arose over architectural integrity versus the perceived preferences of potential occupants. The developer championed the cause of the exposed structure.
"I can tell you there was a long and arduous debate over this," Comfort explains, "with the historic preservation people on one extreme and the owners on the other. I was very much in the middle, but kind of skewed towards the historic preservationist, quite frankly."
He continues: "Understanding the quality of the building and its historic significance, I felt that having the plastered walls and ceilings, and designing those units with that as part of the features — opening the space a lot and using the original millwork and moldings — would be a very elegant way to transform this building into quality residential units.
"We did a lot of design work expressing how that would work. But it became obvious pretty early on that the owners really felt that their ability to create this kind of market in downtown Phoenix was dependent on exposing these structural materials."
That said, the interior of the Orpheum Lofts is not without a rough-hewn charm. Ceilings feature a pattern of T-shaped concrete beams, with pebbles and other detritus of the cement mix clearly visible. Walls are of the original red brick, some of which is nicely smooth and geometric, but in other areas is rather shabby.
The interior partitions of the original office spaces were removed because they were incompatible with the needed dimensions of residential spaces. This demolition exposed "stripes" of structure throughout the existing plaster walls and ceilings. The choice between repair and removal inched closer to removal. The developer decided to forego the preservation tax credit and remove all the plaster.
While Comfort worries that some residents will find disfavor with the less-than-perfect interior shell that has been exposed, both the architect and developer now believe that it is something to be celebrated. "You have to convince people that something a little unorthodox is something they should love," Comfort says.
Ironically, now that the original fabric is gone, we may never know for sure whether potential occupants would have preferred historic plaster or raw structure. "It takes a bit of flexibility and willingness to work with the spirit of the code as opposed to the literal requirement," Comfort says. "Inevitably the solution, and it's more refined in some municipalities than others, is negotiation."
Creative Code Interpretation
As another example of code negotiation, Sheldon recalls a problem concerning the building's original elevators. The City of Phoenix stipulated that a paramedic's gurney had to be able to fit inside the elevators. But the Orpheum's elevators were just a little bit too small. City officials suggested building a new elevator shaft, but the existing shaft is part of the structure, and removing it would have weakened the Orpheum.
Another suggestion was to put a new elevator on the outside, but that would have marred the historic facade. Finally a fire department official sent two people over with a gurney to see if it would fit. They found that, by simply tilting the gurney about 20 degrees, it could be wedged inside the elevator. Problem solved!
"It took six months to get that approved," Sheldon says with noticeable frustration. "We've had our challenges, but overall the City of Phoenix has been very generous with us."
Which is perhaps a reason for optimism that the desert metropolis playing host to the Orpheum Lofts may be able to rise like its namesake mythological bird from the ashes of sprawl toward a more urbane and sustainable future.
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Brian Libby is a Portland, Oregon-based freelance writer who has also published in Metropolis, The New York Times, Christian Science Monitor, and Architectural Record.
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