Olympic stadiums...the good, the bad, and the ugly

The opening of the Winter Olympics in Vancouver and recent news items about the lack of use of the spectacular "Bird's Nest" Olympic stadium in Bejing prompted me to do a little research as to the fates of Olympic stadiums past. I was particularly interested in the Olympic Stadium in Montreal--the only one of these stadiums I have ever been to. The results reveal a surprising spectrum of utility.

Some of these stadiums are now historic landmarks. This applies to the Los Angeles Memorial Stadium, the only stadium to host two Olympics; and the Panathinaiko stadium in Athens (built entirely of marble, and the site of the first modern Olympic games in 1896, this stadium was also used in ancient Greece as the site of athletic competitions).

The Olympic Stadium in Berlin survived almost completely unscathed from WWII (given that up to 90% of Berlin was destroyed, this counts as a minor miracle). It was used for soccer matches after WWII before being renovated in the 90s; it hosted the final game of the World Cup in 2006. Given its connection with Nazi Germany, the fact that it was restored in a historically sensitive manner is quite amazing.

Some stadiums used in the Olympics are now completely gone in their original forms. Wembley Stadium was not purpose-built for the 1948 Olympics--it was already a landmark by the time those Games took place. The old Wembley was torn down and replaced by a new Wembley in 2007.

Most Olympic stadiums seem to have fared fairly well. Almost all of those in Europe and Asia are used for soccer. The stadium from the 1996 Olympics in Atlanta was converted for baseball. This was also the intended use of Olympic Stadium in Montreal--but the Expos are now gone, and the "Big O" is now used very little.

As originally designed, the stadium was considered a masterpiece for its inclined tower and unique retractable roof, one of the first in the world. However, due to strikes and the difficulties of the design, the stadium was not completed in time for the Olympics, so instead of the silhouette you can see in the photo above, this is what you saw:



Note the rather flimsy crane that held the spot that should have been occupied by the soaring, inclined tower.

Work on building the tower began again in the 80s, suffering more delays due both a fire and an accident where a piece of the tower fell onto the field during a Montreal Expos game. The original retractable roof was installed in 1987--and subsequently ripped. The roof was eventually closed permanently and eventually replaced, but continued to suffer problems.

The stadium was finally paid off in 2006, but the Montreal Expos were already gone. Now the stadium hosts the occasional CFL game (including a recent Grey Cup), concerts, and conventions. It is still plagued by leaks and structural issues, and is apparently grimy and not aging well. And Montrealers are ambivalent towards it--some see it as an architectural treasure; others as the visible sign of the huge debt the Games incurred.

In 1976, just a couple of weeks after the Games ended, my family visited Montreal. I had become a confirmed Olympics junkie that year; visiting Montreal to see the venues was almost like attending in person. It wasn't that long after the Games had wrapped up, and I remember many of the gift stores were still open (I got a T-shirt and a keychain with the mascot). But I specifically remember touring the stadium, seeing the swimming pools and looking out over the field where Bruce Jenner had won the decathalon (remember when the decathalon was a big deal?) At the time, I had no idea that the stadium wasn't finished.

The Big O isn't a ruin yet, although parts of it have definitely declined. It remains to be seen what will happen in its future. But I will always have a soft spot in my heart for it, with all its flaws

Ice House Detroit

I have been watching the progress of an amazing project in Detroit to take one of the over 20,000 abandoned houses there and turn it into artwork by encasing it in ice.



The two people involved are a photographer and an architect. I highly recommend reading their project blog--contains some amazing photos (that I will not copy here since the photographs are part of their project).

Video from CNN of the freezing process....

There's one of the posts to their blog that really caught my eye. As has been documented in a number of places, parts of Detroit are returning to what's been called Urban Prairie. These are neighbourhoods once full of houses, now reduced just a few scattered homes here and there. The rest have been torn down and the area is returning to nature. Some enterprising people are even setting up guerilla farms and gardens in the new green space.

The post shows a couple of aerial shots of Detroit neighbourhoods in the 50s and 60s vs. what they look like now. They're astounding. Take a look.

Another incidental relic

While I continue to research Ellis Island (trying to track down the name of the documentary I saw in the eighth grade, mostly), I was searching through my photos of last May's trip to New York to see what I'd taken there, and ran across another incidental relic, spotted as we headed through Battery Park towards the ferry that would take us to visit Liberty Island and Ellis Island. It looked familiar:

I had some time to think about it over the next three hours or so. By the time I returned, I was 99% sure I knew what it was, because in 1985 I once sat down right next to it.



This was -- and is-- "The Sphere" by Fritz Koenig, and it once sat in the plaza in front of the World Trade Center. It awaits return to its original site, where it will be part of the World Trade Center memorial Given what happened around it, it survived remarkably well.

The dish-like structure to its right in my photo is an eternal flame.



This is the World Trade Center site itself. You get a better sense of what went before if you go to the little memorial site set up in a storefront across the street on the south side and look north. They've provided you with some photos of what it looked like from the same storefront window before the towers fell, and if you had ever been there before--and I had--suddenly they spring back into place.

Old ruins, new finds

One of the joys of researching some of my favourite ruins is coming across other people who have the same passion for the abandoned that I do. I am working on a fairly good-sized post or two on Ellis Island, which I discovered in Grade 8 in a movie that probably bored 75% of the rest of the class to tears.

In looking for images, I ran across Phillip Buehler's Modern Ruins site. I won't reproduce his Ellis Island photos here, but I highly recommend taking a look.

I will, however, link to one photo, because there is a story that goes with it.



My husband and I were touring the SS Olympia in Philadelphia (fascinating transitional period warship; Admiral Dewey's flagship in the Spanish-American War). We looked south and saw the unmistakable shape of steamship funnels seemingly parked right there in the Delaware River. "What on earth is that?" we wondered.

It was--and is--the SS United States, one of the last great classical era passenger liners, the largest ever built in the US, completed in 1952. To this day, it still holds the Blue Riband (westbound), given to the passenger liner with the speed record for crossing the Atlantic. It was taken out of service in 1969 and stripped of its finishings in 1984. Asbestos was removed in 1992 as part of a plan to return it to service It is currently derelict and docked permanently across from an IKEA. It's owned by a cruise line, and periodically rumours that it will be restored surface, but other rumours also circulate that it will be sold for scrap.

A number of groups are fighting to save it, including the SS United States Conservancy. I hope they are successful. There are so few actual ships left from this era, an era that began with the great luxury liners such as Titanic. Most are either at the bottom of the ocean or have long since been scrapped.

Wounded Land I'll Never See

I prefer my ruins to be created the old fashioned way, through years of decline and neglect. If they are the result of a catastrophic event, I prefer that the horror of that event will have receded in history so that we can only guess at what the victims might have gone through.

Haiti is not that kind of ruin.





The images above are of the Presidential Palace. The building has pancaked, like many other buildings in Port-au-Prince. Washington Post writer Lee Hocksteder filled in a little background about this building, "almost a mirage in a city of mean, sprawling slums, rickety tin shacks and jury-rigged infrastructure." It was built in the 1920s when the US Marines occupied Haiti. Haiti has a tragic history of violence and corruption under the infamous Duvaliers and their successors, but recently had achieved a fragile measure of stability under Rene Preval. However, the country remained the poorest in the Western Hemisphere, with 80% of its people in poverty, 50% in abject poverty. The Presidential Palace was in some ways a beacon of hope, something Haiti could be proud of.

Hope for Haiti will come from elsewhere now.



The video is Arcade Fire's beautiful song "Haiti." Singer Regine Chassagne is of Haitian descent. They're suggesting donations to Partners in Health, an organization they also supported on their last tour. Given the Canadian Government's offer to match donations made by Canadians, I have taken them up on this suggestion. This is also the group that will receive the $5 donations made by texting HELP to 1291 on Rogers cell phones.

Paul's Church, with all the roof fallen

Last week I caught a show on the building of St. Paul's Cathedral in London. The building is so iconic (and such an interesting feat of engineering) that few people remember what came before.

Old St. Paul's was one of the largest Gothic cathedrals in Europe, with an enormous nave known as "Paul's Walk", beautiful stained glass and the tallest spire in Europe.





It was not just a pretty building, but became the centre of London life--its nave was used for business, for learning the latest news, and later, during its decline, for all manner of buying and selling. London's booksellers were located nearby on Pater Noster street. But, like many churches, the Reformation was not kind to it. By the 16th century it had begun its long decline, and was actually sacked by a mob. Horses were even bought and sold there at one point. In 1561 the spire was destroyed by lightning. A belated attempt to stop the decline was made with the addition of a classical portico in the 1630s.



However, at the moment of its death there had been hope--scaffolding had gone up to start a long-promised restoration. The scaffolding instead contributed to its demise in the Great Fire of 1666.



The cathedral lay in ruins for many years while debates raged as to what to do next--restore what was left, rebuild in a similar style, or build something completely new. The decision was eventually made to give the commission to Christopher Wren, who had done an initial investigation into restoring the church before the fire. In the meantime, the ruins stood:



The ruins did not come down until 1675, and were apparently tougher than they looked. When it came time to lay out the new church, a piece of gravestone was used to mark the centre of the new dome. Upon that gravestone, one word: Resurgam. (I shall rise again). And it did.

I retain my fondness, however, for the beautiful cathedral which fell into ruins and then perished in the fire. The sad depictions of its last few years, with its truncated spire, are particularly evocative. Today, nothing remains but a few scattered remnants of funerary momuments of the old, where bishops and counts and poets were buried--just enough to recall what came before.

On Christmas Day

It looks like the historic All Saints Church in Whitby will be saved despite the devastating fire eleven days ago.



Recent reports are that the walls and steeple are stable. The salvageable stained glass has been removed and preparations are being made to cover the roof that was destroyed with a temporary structure. Last night's news stated they'd like to be back by Easter, 2011.

In the meantime, another local church is providing space to them, and donations covered all of the hampers for the needy that were also lost.

Arson is still suspected, but has not been officially confirmed.

Here is a nice Flickr set of the church, both before and after.

Larkin Building pre-visit

I just learned today that if all goes well, I should have a reason to go to Buffalo on Monday. As I mentioned in my last post, I have been planning to stop by the Larkin Administration Building site for some time to photograph its last remnant. I wanted to make sure I knew where it was, however, so I did a little research.

The Larkin Administration Building was designed by Frank Lloyd Wright in 1904 and completed in 1906 to house the offices of the Larkin Soap company. (The huge factory buildings adjoining the offices still exist.) The building was the first office building to be air conditioned. If you've ever been to a building with a multi-story atrium that provides natural light from above, you're looking at the legacy of the Larkin Building. Its interior was what was so revolutionary, especially when it was built.



Just as the Depression was not kind to the Darwin Martin family and eventually resulted in the abandonment of the Martin House, the affairs of Darwin Martin's employer, the Larkin Soap Company, were also in dire straits. The Larkin building was transformed into a retail store in 1939, but sold in 1943. Eventually the building entered foreclosure and was abandoned. The City of Buffalo attempted to sell it several times and considered a variety of alternate uses, including government offices and a recreation centre, but in its abandonment the building was deteriorating.




It was eventually sold for a mere $5000 and demolished in 1950. It apparently was a major pain to tear down--it was very well-built.

Here's what the building looked like alongside the huge factory:



Here is a Google map of the site:


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And how the site looks in Google Street View:

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If you head further west along Swan St. in Street View, you can see the remaining fence pier (it was part of the fence that can be seen at the back of the postcard of the offices and factory above) This will be what I'll be visiting next Monday.

A day that shall live in infamy...

Not a lot of time today, but time enough to mention one of the saddest ruins I know:


And the iconic image of how she got there:


She is still leaking about a quart of oil a day to the surface.

Halifax Explosion anniversary

Today marks the 92nd anniversary of the Halifax Explosion. Estimates are that over 2000 people died and 9000 were injured in the explosion, caused by the collision of two ships in the harbour and the subsequent fire, which ignited the WWI-bound explosive carried by the French ship. More people from Nova Scotia died in the explosion than actually died in WWI. Its record as the largest accidental man-made explosion persists to this day--and a one-mile blast radius around the explosion was made uninhabitable.

There are a number of good sites with information about the disaster:
Regional Municipality of Halifax site

Comprehensive site on the explosion

A short film about one of the heroes of the disaster


Here are a few images of the explosion and its aftermath:














(thanks to Micaylah for reminding me of the anniversary!)

Hotel of Doom!

Across the street from my building, the new Trump Tower is going up. Since it's just across the street from the former site of the Bay Adelaide Stump, I've heard people calling it the Trump Stump. All kinds of rumours continue to swirl that they're only building eight floors (well, since there are 11 up now, guess that kind of quashes that one) or that they're going to quit building because The Donald and his hair have pulled out of the project. These people obviously don't know the Toronto Real Estate market.

But it reminded me of my favourite unfinished, ruinous hotel. Yep, folks, it's time to have a look at the Hotel of Doom, the "worst building in the history of mankind", #3 in a recent CNN list of World's Ugliest Buildings:



This is the Ryugyong Hotel, the pride of Pyongyang. It's 105 stories tall and those sides are at a 75 degree angle (described by one commenter as "just plain wrong."). And it's unfinished. It was started in 1987, and was meant to have 3,000 rooms and a casino. Because North Korea is just such a HUGE tourist destination, you know...



It was supposed to open in 1989. It never did. In fact, nothing more than the concrete superstructure was completed. It was abandoned in 1992. After that point it was stricken from maps and residents of the city would not talk about it. It had once been proudly displayed on stamps. Now it was airbrushed out of city views.



It looks even creepier from above:


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You can see from the picture below how the hotel absolutely dominates the skyline--and yet, people would pretend it's not there.



However, you'll note something interesting about this 2009 photo: they've started work on it again. Being North Korea, they're pretty cagy about the whole project, but it looks like an Egyptian company is planning to use it for world's tallest, creepiest cellphone tower. One side of the hotel has gotten its glass claddding, and the top part appears to be finished on the outside. There is serious doubt, however, as to whether it can ever be a functional building due to the poor quality of the concrete used to construct it. The Egyptian company seems to think so...

The Ur-Ruin Site

...at least for me.

Until about ten years ago I had no idea that anyone else besides me found decrepit old buildings at all interesting.

Then I ran across the work of Camilo Vergara, specifically the book American Ruins. An article about the book pointed me to what I call the "Ur-Ruin site": The Fabulous Ruins of Detroit.

Warning: You can get lost there for days upon days.

Detroit itself is a ruin, or perhaps a relic. There are sporadic attempts to rebuild on the old foundations, perhaps like Rome. Rome's population declined from over a million during the Empire to perhaps 20,000 during the Early Middle ages, "reducing the sprawling city to groups of inhabited buildings interspersed among large areas of ruins and vegetation." (as per Wikipedia). Is this where Detroit is going?

I realized, of course, when I saw these pictures, that I had seen this before. In 1984 I had traveled to Detroit on a church youth mission trip. I think we were helping a struggling church with some basic painting and maintenance and such. Obviously, that's not what stuck in my mind. We drove downtown. On the way in, we passed neighbourhoods consisting of empty lots and decaying, grand houses (I would later identify this neighbourhood as Brush Park). In the middle of the city itself was a street where nearly every storefront was boarded up. We had entered what Vergara has termed the "skyscraper burial ground." It was quiet and empty and seemed very wrong. Here were buildings that once teemed with life, forgotten.

The word that describes Detroit best is cavernous. It abounds with huge, empty, abandoned spaces--once elegant or functional, now just silent and empty. Tiger Stadium, where I first saw a major-league baseball game on that trip in 1984, was cavernous. It is now almost completely gone.

I will come back to Detroit--to Brush Park and the skyscraper graveyard, in particular, but also to the occasional sign of hope. It still makes me feel like crying.