Sumner High School is certainly getting the most attention among the schools listed for possible closure in the latest round of Saint Louis Public School cuts. But I also want readers to realize that other neighborhood schools, housed in historic buildings designed by William Ittner and Rockwell Milligan are also at risk, even if they are not as famous as Sumner. But just like the more famous high school, they often are the last remaining public community asset in their respective neighborhoods. In fact, with the closure of several of the announced schools, there will no longer be any educational building, public or private, in large swaths of North St. Louis, where the population is primarily African American.
I recently met up with Carla and Miguel Alexander, who live across the street from Dunbar Elementary School, one of the schools on the list of possible closures. Located in the JeffVanderLou neighborhood, Dunbar was built in 1912 and is an example of the beautiful designs of Ittner, who revolutionized the field of architecture in public education. Buildings designed by Ittner feature large banks of windows and bright, open floor plans. Craftsmanship allowed for the expression of a variety of styles based off of public schools in England and other parts of Europe.
“Old is good,” Carla Alexander proclaims, as we look out over the intersection of Garrison and Sheridan, where her grandmother’s store, Tillie’s Corner, stood for several generations. (It was featured in an article by Stefene Russell in St. Louis Magazine in 2013.) The Alexanders remain dedicated to the neighborhood, even after the three rowhouses where the store was located were damaged by a storm several years ago, resulting in their demolition. Instead of walking away, the Alexanders invested in the corner, had a new house built on the site of the old store, and planted a garden. Miguel is a veteran of the Army who grew up in the Central West End. Carla grew up right at the corner, where she still lives.
“We want the school board and [Superintendent Dr. Kelvin] Adams to know we’re here. [The perception] was like the community was not supporting the school. But we are here supporting the school,” Carla Alexander tells me. “We have the children come over to the garden. We did a fundraiser to get security cameras for the school.”
“It’s really a wonderful school, more so inside than out,” Miguel Alexander says.
The historic school is at the center of a community effort to keep the century-old building open, just as the JeffVanderLou neighborhood is seeing new development after decades of redlining and disinvestment. The recent purchase of 212 residential units by developer McKee and Hudson (not related to Paul McKee) promises the possibility of new students who could enroll at Dunbar in the near future. This is on top of 112 units McKee and Hudson has already rehabbed and opened near the school.
For many lower-income residents, the appeal of having recently moved to JeffVanderLou is the convenience of being able to have their children walk to school in a traditional, urban environment. Many families cannot afford their own transportation and are already anxious about how their children will commute to their new school if Dunbar is closed. For many community leaders, including 19th Ward Alderwoman Marlene Davis, this walkability is what makes Dunbar so desirable. Only one block to the north is Vashon High School, in its recently constructed building, and another block away is the new St. Louis Community College campus. In the middle of this educational “Trifecta,” as neighborhood leaders call this grouping, is Jet Banks Park, another amenity for the community. The hope is that students can begin with pre-kindergarten at Dunbar and continue all the way to college within only a couple blocks’ walk in the JeffVanderLou neighborhood.
In a Zoom press conference arranged last week, there was hope in the words of those working to save Dunbar: “We have to make investments in the future. And this is an investment in the future.”
But there was also a sense of déjà vu, as if they had all heard this same story before.
“Why is it that every time there is a cut, is it on the North Side?”
As I was leaving after my visit to Tillie’s Corner and Dunbar Elementary on a cold Saturday when snow still covered the parking lanes of most St. Louis streets, we saw an SUV spinning its tires, stuck in the ice. The Alexanders sprang into action. They found a snow shovel and other implements to chip away at the packed ice and snow under the tires. Another neighbor brought out some hot water in a tea kettle to melt more of the ice. Working together, we all were able to eventually push the SUV out of the snow and ice. Neighbors helping each other is just something people do in JeffVanderLou.
“We’re behind-the-scenes people. We don’t need the writeup in the paper or the glamour,” Carla Alexander told me. “It’s happening in other neighborhoods and communities without anyone knowing about it.”
Later in the week, I read all 109 pages of community feedback published on the Public Schools’ website in response to the consolidation plan announced earlier this year. The vast majority of the comments—I would estimate well over 90 percent—were opposed to closing any schools. A common argument of those who did support closing schools consisted of some variant of “it was the difficult but correct” decision to make. But what if keeping schools open in struggling neighborhoods in desperate need of beacons of hope was actually the difficult but correct decision?
