The Battle for East Main Street
By J.Ed. Marston
© 2003 The Pulse (volume 1, Issue 1)
Used by permission
On
a winter-edged afternoon, I meet Tom Bartoo at a pistachio-painted
building to
learn about a recent development in what I think of as
the Battle for East Main. In the Battle for East Main
no shot has ever been fired. No one has died (at least
not as a direct result of combat).
Like so many aging commercial districts, East Main has
suffered through a decades-long war of attrition. The
victors have never stepped foot in Chattanooga, but the
carnage, in the form of silent factories and shuttered
warehouses, is very much in evidence. The Battle for East
Main is not being fought with force of arms but with economic
muscle.
Despite long odds, the combatants have never surrendered
completely. A few factories still operate. A hodgepodge
of small businesses, convenience stores, and local eateries
inhabit some of the buildings, but the bloom of prosperity
is a wilted memory. From street level, the much-storied
downtown revitalization, a scant mile or two away, seems
like something that’s happening in a completely different
city.
From a higher vantage, there are signs that East Main
is not doddering toward final extinction but merely experiencing
a mid-life challenge to re-purpose itself for the next
stage of its existence. For one thing, the street borders
Highland Park, by all accounts a neighborhood on the mend.
Here’s where I admit that I am not an entirely a disinterested
observer of events on East Main. In the local vernacular,
“I have a dog in this fight” because I recently bought
a home in Highland Park. That’s an admission that earns
me admiration from some and something just short of disgusted-superior-looks
from others, but whether I’m a naïve idealist or
a cagey investor who got in early, only time will tell.
What’s certain is that each renovated home in Highland
Park makes business investment on East Main more viable.
Investors beget other investors. That’s why the area’s
proximity to downtown is a distinct advantage despite
surface perspectives to the contrary. A report from the
River City Company, the non-profit organization that is
leading the charge for revitalization, states that recently
completed and planned projects in the downtown area total
more than $336 million.
According to Tom Bartoo, the successful revitalization
and the attendant rise in downtown property values, was
the genesis of Wasabi, LLC. Bartoo and Brian Tune, who
are the principles of Tune Design, Architecture and Interiors,
wanted to move their firm from the location they currently
lease off Bonny Oaks Road to a building of their own.
“We were looking for a place downtown,” Bartoo says. “We
wanted to be part of the revitalization, but we were having
a tough time finding something affordable.”
Enter sculptor John Henry. In the 60s, he left his native
Kentucky to launch a world-spanning career. Henry gained
a reputation as an artist of the first order with his
gargantuan metal sculptures. A few years ago, he decided
to relocate to Chattanooga where he set up a workshop
in a building off East Main. It was Henry who came to
Tune and Bartoo with a proposal to buy the former Thacher
Drug Company Building, loc ated
not downtown, but just down the road a piece. The three
partners pooled their money to form Wasabi, LLC (a name
inspired by their shared appreciation of sushi) and bought
the building. Witness an airborne dandelion seed of development
hesitate over downtown Chattanooga before coming to rest
in the East Main district.
Bartoo acknowledges that he sees the redevelopment of
the Thacher Drug Company Building in the context of a
larger community vision. “Sure this is a rough area,”
he said. “How do you combat that? You move into the buildings
and get some business going.”
So, what do you get when you cross two architects with
an internationally renowned metal sculptor and a two-story,
40,000 square foot building? What else but a mixed-used
development featuring four living areas, an office space,
a metal sculpture workshop, studios for several working
artists, and a gallery not to mention pyramid shaped skylights,
an area for casting bronze, and a roof-top green.
The plan may sound fanciful at first blush, and it is
highly innovative, but the elements of this vision are
practical answers to very real financial, architectural,
and artistic challenges.
On the first floor, we’re standing in a huge rectangular
room lined with support pillars. Bartoo shows me how one
side of the building will be partitioned to provide a
new home for Tune Architecture, Design and Interiors.
The other side of the room will accommodate a number of
open-ended artists’ studios. The center of the room will
become a gallery, and Bartoo points to the ceiling above
the future exhibition area, where the partners plan to
install skylights to provide ambient light.
The wall beyond the gallery contains several bay doors
accessing a loading dock right on the train line that
operates out of the Chattanooga Choo Choo Holiday Inn.
According to Bartoo, this creates the potential that the
building could become a whistle stop, allowing visitors
to watch the artists at work and tour the gallery of completed
pieces. At the other end of the room, there are two doors.
One leads to a two-story space that will become a bronze
casting area. The other reveals the area that will be
John Henry’s new workshop.
Bartoo leads up to the second floor. This space will be
divided into four residential areas. For Bartoo and Tune,
who plan to condominomize two of the units, combining
their home space and the location of their firm under
one roof, provides a cost savings that makes the deal
more affordable. The partners also plan to lease the other
lofts and the working artists’ studios as a source of
revenue for the project. “None of us has a lot of money,”
Bartoo says. “ We’re just average Joes. We’re not developers,
but we wanted to invest in the community. This plan gives
us a way to do that.”
For most of us, our home investment is a thirty-year prayer
that our neighbors will mow their lawns regularly while
resisting any temptation to rent their property to a band
of crack heads. By purchasing a warehouse, Bartoo and
Tune have cut their commute down to a short walk down
a flight of stairs while creating additional revenue for
all of the partners.
From an architectural perspective, the building is structurally
sound. Much of the work will involve cosmetic restorations
such as stripping the peeling coat of interior paint to
expose the bricks and beams. In addition, they will remove
the cinderblocks that currently fill the building’s huge
windows like coins over a corpse’s eyes.
According to Bartoo, workers will also install a cistern
capable of collecting 50,000 gallons of rainwater. This
water will irrigate a “green roof,” which residents can
access from the second story living area s.
The skylights that provide ambient light for the gallery
below will serve a second purpose. They will be shaped
like pyramids so that their presence will create physical
divisions on the roof. This arrangement will afford each
of the living spaces a private area adjoining a larger
common green with a sweeping view of the downtown area.
While a planted roof is an attractive amenity, it is not
a useless luxury. Pumping rainwater to the roof to sustain
the greenery also solves a storm water retention issue
that could arise from adding some paved parking to serve
the re-developed building. “Normally, we would be required
to do a retention pond,” Bartoo says. “ Essentially, we’re
moving the grassed area from the ground to the roof. It’s
all about adaptive reuse.”
While financial plans and architectural solutions are
quantifiable, Bartoo, Tune, and Henry also hope to achieve
the less tangible goal of fostering creativity. By co-locating
their operations with two loft apartments, several studio
spaces, and a gallery, they plan to attract artists who
would be able to live, work, and exhibit in the building.
“There is a synergy that’s created when artists get together.”
Bartoo says. “They can bounce ideas off each other.”
The Bread Factory, located at 17th and Cowart, is a model
that foreshadows many aspects of what Bartoo and his partners
are trying to accomplish. Rob Taylor co-owns the Bread
Factory along with John Clark, Dr. Tony Leach, and ARTECH
Architecture and Interiors. According to Taylor, the partnership
fits the model of “average Joe” investors coming together
around a shared vision.
The venture seems to be paying off. They redeveloped the
former, Cameron & Barr Baking Company Building into
26 loft units. The project involved opening up a two-story
area in the center of the main building as a courtyard
and stairwell. The result is a common area with tables
on the ground floor and a spectacular view of Lookout
Mountain from the second story catwalk.
The Bread Factory opened in May, and occupancy is well
ahead of what the partners anticipated with only four
of the 26 units still vacant. Unlike the very conscious
attempt to attract creative people that Bartoo envisions,
Taylor and his partners had no preconceptions about likely
tenants, but creative folk found their way to the place
any way. Residents at the Bread Factory include a musician,
a graphic artist, a chef, and two software companies among
others.
Providing an environment that attracts and nurtures creative
people may have ramifications that far exceed the successful
re-development of a couple buildings. According to the
theory propounded by Richard Florida in his book The Rise
of the Creative Class, economic health in contemporary
cities depends on whether they contain a large and flourishing
community of creative people. According to Florida this
“Creative Class” includes people in professions “whose
economic function is to create new ideas, new technology,
and/or new creative content.”
In a global economy where cheaper land, labor, and resources
exist outside of the United States, it is easy to understand
how our economy has shifted away from the traditional
paradigm. Florida believes that innovation is the critical
resource that fuels continued success and that the people
who drive our economy are scientists, software developers,
engineers, architects, educators, artists, musicians,
and entertainers with a broader class of “creative professionals
in business and finance, law, healthcare, and related
fields.”
According to Florida, successful businesses are either
emerging or relocating to areas that contain a high concentration
of creative people. “Access to talented and creative people
is to modern business what access to coal and iron was
to steelmaking,” Florida writes. “It determines where
companies will choose to locate and grow, and this in
turn changes the way cities must compete.”
Florida’s ideas have touched off a wildfire of excitement
among community planners and economic developers because
his concepts seem to explain some aspects of the economic
revolution that has transfixed so many communities in
the overwhelming glare of oncoming change.
The Battle for East Main is not unique. In fact, East
Main has a twin in almost any community of any size across
the United States. The manufacturing and textile industries
that originated the initial growth in the East Main area
are not coming back. The Chattanooga/Hamilton County region
does not boast a competitive concentration of the creative
class, but perhaps, projects such as the Bread Factory
and the one Bartoo and his partners have started will
help to change that.
I’m standing on the roof with Bartoo, when I ask him if
redeveloping a building like this has been a lifelong
dream. He deflects my attempt to elicit a definitive statement
that will play well in print. “I find that as you grow
older in life you think, ‘Wait, I really want to make
a difference,’” He says. “You want to make a difference
in your community and in your livelihood.”
At 37, Bartoo sounds like a man who has decided to steer
the mid-life obstacle course between Babbitry and “quiet
desperation” by investing his time, expertise, and personal
fortunes in the revitalization of an abandoned building
in a depressed commercial district. And maybe, just maybe,
the attempt will help shake East Main out of her torpor.
but at the very least, this effort will establish a new
foothold in the Battle for East Main.
|
|