There’s good news and bad news in Missouri Preservation’s new list of Historic “Places in Peril.” The good news is that some icons of the state’s rich culture are being highlighted, after years in obscurity. The bad news is that they need to be highlighted for preservation in the first place. Reflecting St. Louis’s critical role in the historic and architectural fabric of Missouri, several of the endangered places are in the metropolitan region.
A perennial entry on many endangered lists is the oft-mentioned, but still rotting, James Clemens Mansion on Cass Avenue. Owned for coming close to a decade by Northside Regeneration, repeated promises of renovation have proven, like most of Paul McKee’s grand schemes, to have fallen flat. Nothing has happened, unless gravity is counted. That major force has been inexorably dragging the historic mansion, where none other than Mark Twain once frequented, slowly towards the earth. Despite its link to one of the most important writers of the 19th century, the house also preserves a now mostly forgotten housing type in St. Louis: country homes constructed by the wealthy in what was then the countryside. Now deep in the urban core, the Clemens Mansion could still be saved, if its owners cared.
Meanwhile, out west along the Chesterfield/Wildwood border, up the dead-end Church Road, the memory of the agricultural past of St. Louis County is slipping away. Westland Acres, one of the last of what were once dozens of former slave communities that dotted the region, is in danger of disappearing. The reality of Missouri—and St. Louis—history still holds true, whether or not we want to admit it today. Our region once allowed slavery, and there are uncomfortable visual reminders of that. The controversy surrounding residents’ attempts to rename Old Slave Road, just to the north of Westland Acres off Wild Horse Creek Road, shows us that whitewashing history benefits no one, pushing unresolved injustices underground. Ultimately, the name Old Slave Road remains, reminding us that slaves once lived and died on this land. I always felt like I was intruding when I drove up Church Road to Westland Acres, but then a friendly wave from residents sitting out on their front porches showed me that this was a special, welcoming community.
The importance of German immigration to the St. Louis region is reflected in the Emmaus Home out west in Warren County, still well within the metropolitan area. Stumbling across the august stone buildings in a clearing surrounded by rolling, forested hills, I was stunned by the beauty of the setting and architecture of these historic former seminary buildings. Originally where Lutheran priests were trained until the creation of Eden Seminary in St. Louis, the rural surroundings still remain. But the future is in doubt, as the current owners are phasing out the buildings by 2020. What could these buildings be used for in the next decade? Certainly there is some demand for such a wonderful ensemble of German-American architecture. Perhaps a camp or retreat center?
Traveling southeast from Emmaus to Castlewood State Park, the Philip Kaes House also calls out for salvation. Back in the 19th century, the railroad was the “Main Street” of southwestern St. Louis County, with a series of passenger stops along the line. As times changed, and the 20th century came along, Manchester Road and the automobile began to supplant the railroad as the main thoroughfare. The houses, stores, and small industry that once lined the tracks fell into obscurity. The Kaes House is just one such example, in the small, fascinating hamlet of Sherman or Jedburgh. Theoretically, the house being owned by the State should ensure its survival, but a lack of vision for uses of the historic home means it’s still sitting vacant. Vigilant neighbors seem to be the only thing standing in the way of vandalism or destruction. Restore the house or sell it, Missouri.
Just down that historic Meramec River corridor, the old Route 66 bridge sits, awaiting redemption. Perhaps the exhibit at the Missouri History Museum will spur a donation to save it? Right now, the Route 66 State Park is split in two, and the rebuilding of the bridge will bring a cogent, unified park back together. This almost seems like the easiest of all the endangered structures to save.
Back to the Near North Side, and the Brown Shoe Factory represents for many the greatest loss facing the city with the coming of the new spy agency, and the massive superblock that will dominate the area for generations. Opened during the World’s Fair, the factory represents a new way of thinking about industrial architecture. But for me, as wonderful of a building it is, I can’t help but think of the people who live behind that old shoe factory. I don’t argue for the preservation of history for history’s sake, but rather because it represents real people’s lives. The people losing their homes to eminent domain, just down the street from Brown, deserve our attention, too.
A few notes about other entries outside of St. Louis. The old Kirksville High School, which I came to know from my time at Truman State University, represents for me the continued failure and lack of vision of the town where I spent four years. Quality student housing has always been at a premium in the aging university town, and I wonder why such a sturdy, beautiful building is not seen as desirable. As Truman State’s reputation continues to climb, I ponder why Kirksville continues to make the same mistakes of the last 50 years: demolition for parking and the auto-centric design. Kirksville was, and can still be a walkable, urban environment, if we try.
And finally, regarding the possible demolition of the historic mansions of Nelsonhood around the Nelson-Atkins Museum in Kansas City, I have one thing to say: Come on, you’re an art museum; you’re supposed to know better. That it is even being considered is shocking, and disappointing.
Chris Naffziger writes about architecture at St. Louis Patina. Contact him via email at [email protected].
