Detroit: The James V. Campbell House
This is Part I of a series. Part II is here. Part III is here. Part IV is here. Part V is here.
Brush Park is a residential neighborhood just north of downtown Detroit. In the latter 19th-century, Brush Park was chock-o-block with grand mansions.
The advent of the automobile however meant that people no longer needed to be close to work and Brush Park, like all first-generation urban neighborhoods, fell into a quick decline during the first decades of the 20th-century. Mansions were first converted into rooming houses, then apartments, and each passing decade brought further decline. By the 1950s Brush Park was a slum but largely intact.
Brush Park, 1951. The upper red line, left to right, is Edmund Place. The lower line is Alfred Street. Note the density.
From Baist’s Real Estate Atlas.
What was. The north side of Alfred Street, between and John and Brush streets. The Gillis house is to the left. The Campbell house is #5 from right. This stunning drawing is by Briguyinla. Click here to see more information, and then click on the drawing to enlarge.
2014. Red line, top, is Edmund Place. The lower red line is Alfred Street. Note the utter devastation; where once 21 structures lined the south side of AlfredcStreet, by 2014 only a single house remained. The structure marked #1 (middle) is the Ransom Gillis house, and #2 is the James Campbell house.
2014, Alfred Street. Gillis house, left, Campbell house, middle.
Alfred Street, what was. Yep, wow. Wow! The 1881 Campbell house is second from right.
2014. The Campbell house survives alone.
The Campbell house was, compared to it’s dazzling neighbors, subtle. It was a simple box, yes, but rich with adorned detail.
The rich details though had been stripped away leaving just…
…the basic box. And today?
The Campbell house has been reborn. Albeit though still as a basic box. Sigh, what an opportunity lost. The rebirth of the house is part of a massive redevelopment project costing tens and tens of millions of dollars. Yet, the exterior restoration of the Campbell house was done on the cheap. For example, note the new cornice. While token brackets have been installed, they are just sad facsimiles of what was.
Originally, the third floor was visually separated, in a highly distinctive manner, from the floors below.
The windows rested on a string course, and were enhanced with substantial vertical trim and beefy brackets. Smaller brackets adorned the cornice with decorative panels below resting upon a dentil trim. Note also the cresting on the roof.
An artist, Briguyinla, created colored drawings of the original details. Stunning.
The second floor windows had brick and stone arches.
The pitiful facsimile.
The lost porch. Note the beefy entry doors.
The pitiful facsimile. You can tell that the person who designed the new porch studied the lost original. The upper portion of the columns mimic, in an anemic manner, the curve of the originals, and the double-pairing of the original brackets is also anemically mimicked. And rather than recreate the beefy scale of the original brackets, even the scale of the new brackets is anemic. Note, too, the cheap entry door. This is particularly egregious as 1880s entry doors abound in salvage yards across the country.
One of the window bays. Was the upper trim stone or stamped metal?
The pitiful facsimile.
What was. Drawing by Briguyinla.
What was. Drawing by Briguyinla.
What was: a distinctive house, easy to admire, a structure which enhanced the streetscape and contributed to the city.
What is: meh.
This is directly across the street, but one of the many new structures now surrounding the Campbell house. I have no issue with their modernity but think how vastly more exciting the urban streetscape would have been had their stark modernity offered an exciting counterplay to…
…this. And imagine how much more the owners of the modern townhouses would have enjoyed looking out their huge windows to THIS richly adorned beauty rather than…
…a basic brick box. This is the view from the new $1.3 million dollar townhouse.
Just east of the Campbell house (left) are two more survivors, now also reborn on the cheap.
The city of Detroit, which owned these three houses and the surrounding land, offered all for redevelopment, stipulating that the historic houses had to be retained. And this, this, was the mistake. The city should have also demanded that the facades be restored to their original appearance.
It is no coincidence that great cities are also normally beautiful cities. Humans respond to beauty, be it a beautiful flower, face, or building. Yet somebody, at some high level working for the development company, made the decision that cheapness should prevail. Somebody decided that people and the city did not deserve beauty.
With such a decision in place, what happened was inevitable. Had a more enlightened soul been in charge the results would have been striking.
Today, with laser technology, intricate brackets and ornamentation can be created with surprising affordability. But, on Alfred Street, the will to do things right did not exist.
The development company clearly did not think it necessary to retain a preservation-trained architect, instead relying on, no doubt, an underpaid and inexperienced draftsperson who did not even understand the value of scale. Because the will to do things right did not exist.
The development company clearly did not think it mattered to the buyers of their new townhouses that their windows would overlook banal brick boxes instead of gloriously restored historic houses. Because the desire for beauty did not exist. Because the knowledge that beauty has value did not exist.
Soon, the shiny new modernist townhouses will become less shiny. In, say, two decades, they will look dated and suffer from maintenance issues. Across the street, the cheaply done porches and details on the historic brick homes will have also suffered from the ravages of time. Newer projects will draw people away from Alfred Street and the cycle of decline will repeat itself.
However, had the three historic houses on Alfred Street been restored to a high level, they would pass through the coming decades as valued landmarks. The modernist townhouses, too, would retain value due to their great views of the historic houses, the Fabergé eggs of Alfred Street.
In short, the three old houses on Alfred Street are today banal brick boxes not due to cost.
No, they are banal brick boxes due to a lack of vision. And because somebody lacked a spirit of generosity.
I am curious how the citizens of Detroit feel at being treated so…shabbily?
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Thank you for this excellent discussion of architecture and the value of beauty and doing things right, Ross. I enjoyed reading your preservationist perspective, which I wholeheartedly agree with. I find it mind boggling that people don’t “see.” Or maybe they don’t care or understand.
I really enjoyed the pictures of the original houses and the drawings are great.
Thank you dear Ross. Wishes for a very Merry Christmas and a fabulous new decade. It’s the 20s all over again – one of my favorite periods.
Thank you, Karen!
I agree that some people just don’t “see”. And the people of Detroit pay the price.
Sigh.
BIG holiday hug!
American’s see architecture as something disposable. We bulldoze old neighborhoods, to build cheaply constructed houses which decay in only a few decades. And then go to Europe to marvel at all the old buildings. The east coast would have building at least 250 years old, but they were so yesterday, and are torn down in the name of “progress”. Sadly we are a nation of not seeing the worth in anything old, including humans….
Love your writing, its so lyrical and descriptive.
Thank you for the kind word, Biki.
Had Brush Park been preserved as it was in, say, 1970, today it would no doubt be gloriously restored and a sought-after place to live.
I am reminded of the Point Section in Newport, RI. During the 1960s it was considered a slum and the city wanted to bulldoze most of it. A few citizens fought back and today the Point is one of the most desirable neighborhoods in the city.
I live in Narragansett and visit Newport regularly. Thank God much of Rhode Island is still around!
Yay Ross! Love your passion!
Unfortunately we all live or have lived in communities who harvested the old homes for their trim and interiors. I have seen Universities take their ancient (and unmaintained) buildings and do a semi mod restoration (Syracuse Univ.?!)(and others). I live in Portland and the we celebrate the bits that were preserved meanwhile the best they had got torn down long ago with poor foresight. The little Central NY town (Ilion, NY) and region (Including Utica, NY) I grew up in is full of big magnif. old timers in the same family ownership since day one or are too much upkeep and falling into disrepair. The whole region is similar. Sad. I live in a 634 sq ft apt with 2 big black Labs and in heaven in PDX 🙂 Best wishes all!
I can understand the instinct to bulldoze rather than restore that which is seemingly beyond repair. It takes time and money, and the average person prefers new to old. But once you’ve decided to keep it, I can’t fathom the impulse to do a halfway job of fixing it. I tend toward being a purist, but many aren’t. I blame the more artistic types who care less about history and more about creativity. Sadly, there are plenty of architects who don’t feel fulfilled unless they’ve put their unique stamp on something by “improving” or “modernizing” it, or by creating something that is (usually loosely) “inspired” by what was a great work of art. The new Campbell house looks like a sad HGTV restoration.
I think most people like the idea of preservation. It’s the cost and labor that is hard to swallow. On the flipside, tear downs can be just as costly if not more then as a reno.
I’ve seen all these photos already.
But I was thinking EXACTLY what all your captions are saying!! So, Ditto, Ditto, DITTO!!!
It’s like the original movie My Fair Lady, with Rex Harrison and Audrey Hepburn, yea, 1960s nineteen-hundreds, but those costumes! When Eliza comes down the stairs in that white dress, and all the women in attendance, to go to the Ascot Races, their costumes are the visual equivalent of looking at Alfred Street a la 1885. Frilly, yet manly; beefy, yet delicate architectural exclamation points!
Really, so sad they couldn’t have expended a few more dollars on these Detroit houses. Because NOW they almost don’t look that old anymore!! Again, sad.
It makes a huge difference when the renovation is done nicely. I first lived in a fairly plain Cape Cod house in Seattle, which we nonetheless loved, atop a hill, in a beautiful setting. We left when I was eight, in the early ’60s, moving across the country. I came back in ’86, to find that house beautifully renovated. I last saw it in ’15, still in beautiful shape, the people who had renovated it still there.
To be sure, a few more houses had been crammed in nearby, but they were quite tasteful as well.
I’m curious why you didn’t restore them yourself? You have so many ideas, yet took no action? Seems strange that you would be so passionate about someone else’s work while doing nothing yourself to contribute or change the outcome…
Dear, Jeff.
Thank you for your comment. It’s a revelation! You’ve given me a whole new way of seeing things!
Like with the horrific assault on Ukraine. I’m passionate about this issue but didn’t realize that, by simply applying myself fully, I could stop this great injustice! Think of the lives I could save!
And…OMG..the four years of Trump in the Oval Office was another horror! But why, I now realize, didn’t I just march into the Oval Office, kick Trump to the curb, and assume the presidency? Why didn’t I do this? Why?
I’ve also seen movies I didn’t like. Why though didn’t I buy up every copy, destroy them, then go to a bank and ask for, I dunno, $50 million to reshoot the movie? The bank, no doubt, would give me the money gladly because I asked, right? Of course they would! Then I could reshoot the whole movie incorporating my many passionate ideas.
I’m also suddenly dumbstruck that I didn’t stop the Titanic disaster! Why didn’t I march into the bridge that fateful night, throw Captain Smith overboard, and assume command! “First Officer Murdoch! Turn this ship to starboard!” I could have changed history!
And why didn’t I yell out to John Kennedy: “Duck! NOW!” Why? Why? Why?
Well, Jeff, I’m just overflowing with the countless ways I can make the world better through sheer force of my will! Thank you! Bless you!
Yes, Ross. Why didn’t ya? Geez
Big sigh. Love you! Lol Thank you for changing a small part of the world for the best, one baby step at a time.
Jeff, are you for real?! Do you have unlimited resources of time, money, and physical strength? If so, then you should go ahead and do what you advise. If not, then please join the rest of us in reality. Literally every human being has more ideas than they are capable of enacting in their lifetime and with their individual resources and capacities. Ross’s reply to you is a work of art. Wishing you a self-actualized and action-packed life.
If the act of Appreciation is pointless, all our Museums and Art Galleries would perish from lack of use. How futile to appreciate a sunset or a beautiful vista. The simple act of Recognition would have no value or benefit and our lives would be empty.
Love all the comments!
Blessings on Thanksgiving day! Having a Friendsgiving tomorrow?
Ross, you’ve shown true colors. You can bitch and complain right there with the best of them, but taking real action? No, just a talking head and spouting mouthpiece who is great at bashing the work of others while doing nothing themselves.
All talk, no action. Classic
You whine about what could have been without having restored one inch of the building yourself.
Ross, you could have been great at many things, it seems bitching and complaining are at the top of your list, but taking action seems to fall near the bottom.
You can sure talk a big game, but it’s all simply that – talk.
Now, tell me all the other things you could have done throughout history, but didn’t…. I’ll wait for your rich list. While you’re at it, read a book called “The Traveler’s Gift”. All about a man who travels throughout history meeting historical figures and changing the course of his life – sounds like a good read for you…
Your response is like talking with an author who writes fiction – say whatever you want, because it’s not based in reality.
Seems you have the knowledge, but not the wherewithal to actually raise funds, lead a project, and make an architectural difference – you would just prefer the armchair quarterback method.
Thanks for your contribution to both the conversation and for all the action you took beside complaining to contribute to the architectural richness of the building. Wonder where the project would be without all of your efforts?
Hi, Jeff.
Thank you, again, for your comment.
I have numerous points to offer:
1) I’m enjoying the irony here. You want to deny my right to criticize, while reserving the same right for you!
2) Architectural criticism has a long, esteemed history. A famous architectural critic was Vincent Scully, Jr. After the fabulous Pennsylvania Station in NYC was demolished and replaced by a banal building, he wrote: ‘One entered the city like a god; one scuttles in now like a rat’. But, by your measure, Scully had no right to comment because he did not buy the station to prevent its demolition! And shame on Jane Jacobs, who wrote the massively influential The Death and Life of Great American Cities. What right did she have to critique decades of urban planning when she wasn’t an urban planner? What nerve!
3) The point of architectural criticism is to educate. By pointing out the flaws in X building, students, builders, architects, contractors, citizens, and politicians are given an opportunity to become more knowledgable. And this makes for a better urban environment. This was my aim in writing my Detroit series. I hoped (and still hope) that my effort will help people see things differently, be it in Detroit or anywhere. Indeed, I know that what I wrote has already positively impacted the Glover house restoration. When they were ready to order cresting for their roof, I sent them a link to my post on the Gillis house and its poorly-scaled cresting. This resulted in their ordering more boldly scaled cresting for the Glover house. This, alone, makes all the work I did on the Detroit series worth it. In time, the new porch on the Campbell house will rot away and maybe, just maybe, someone will remember reading my post about the house and expend the effort to accurately recreate the original porch. Maybe.
4) By your measure, nobody has a right to criticize a politician unless they are a politician. No one has a right to criticize a movie that they didn’t help create. So, shame on Siskel and Ebert. Shame! No one has a right to criticize a book unless they wrote it. So, Amazon should remove Readers Reviews, STAT! No one has a right to criticize the food in X restaurant unless…and on and on.
5) I smile at your calling me an armchair quarterback. For, you seem unaware that this blog thingy you are commenting on is largely about my restoring a huge old house in Kansas. A project whereby I have…golly!…raised funds, lead, and made an architectural difference. This project is but the latest in a five-decade history of building, restoring, designing, and hands-on work. And, when I was a wee thing of twenty, I was a founding member of the St. Petersburg Historical Society, which has grown over the years into a powerful advocacy organization.
6) I get the impression that my criticisms have hit home for you. Your responses seem as if you’ve taken my observations personally, like you were involved in some way with the Campbell renovation (or other houses in my Detroit series). If so, it wasn’t my intention to criticize an individual (indeed, I name no individuals) but rather the results.
7) Lastly, your criticize me for not being “based in reality”. Do you know what projection is?
Woof!
😄