City Better-ful

I didn't write about Daniel Libeskind's proposal for the re-design of Civic Center Park when the plan was announced, although I wanted to.

I didn't write about the two competing proposals for Union Station when they were announced, although I wanted to.

I've been so busy with work and whatnot that I haven't blogged in over a month. I'd write about Libeskind now, except that it's old news.....all I'll say now is that I like the idea of using something bold to turn what is currently an underutilized piece of downtown Denver into something that would be more integrated with the lives of actual Denverites. I'm not sure Libeskind's design is exactly right, although I like elements of it. The problem with Civic Center--and there is one, because how many middle-class people feel comfortable using it except for the occasional mega-festival in the summer--is that the design movement from which it springs, the City Beautiful era of the early part of the last century does not take into account the needs and behavior of actual human beings.

City Beautiful is something of a sacred cow in historic preservation circles, because it was conceived during one of the golden eras of political liberalism, the "Progressive" movement (from which sprung more than one political party and a magazine of the same name; the parties are gone except for some remnants in VT and MN, but the magazine is still around, and it's a good one). But the motivating idea behind City Beautiful is inherently flawed. Put simply, City Beautiful planners believed that you could "uplift the citizenry" of a community by creating civic monuments that would inculcate in people a spirit of civic-mindedness--always in the neoclassical style that was popularized by the World's Columbian Exposition of 1893 (a.k.a., the Chicago World's Fair). The pure, noble Greco-Roman architecture would inspire criminals to live better lives; it would make the lazy more hard-working; it would educate the hoi polloi in the classical ideals of beauty, and make them better citizens. It was well intentioned, and that's the best thing you can say about it. It was never a success on its own terms--we still have criminals and the lazy and the igorant, and we always will. That's humanity for you--never fitting into pre-conceived ideal behaviors.

What we have at Civic Center in 2006 is unadulterated City Beautiful. It's considered one of the finest examples of City Beautiful in the entire country--perhaps only the National Mall in Washington, which although part of l'Enfant's original plan for the District was only formalized by the Progressive era's (1901) McMillan Commission, and the San Francisco Civic Center (also home to a very large number of druggies, making our Civic Center problem seem tame by comparison) are better-known. It has the formal axes--the cupola of the City & County Building lines up perfectly with the dome of the State Capitol, and the Voorhees Memorial on Colfax is aligned with the Greek Theater on 14th. It has the wide swaths of green lawn and gorgeous flower beds, designed to set off the various buildings and statuary the same way the lawns and lagoons set off the massive temples of commerce in 1893 Chicago (a highly entertaining recent bestseller is set that fair, The Devil in the White City). It has the formal walkways, perfect for formal men and women in late Victorian finery to promenade on lovely summer afternoons.

Denver loves Civic Center, and the majority opinion seems to be that there's nothing wrong with it, that it should not change. Except that in Civic Center you have a park that covers two full city blocks (plus large bulges on either side) and divides the city's prime cultural amenities from the rest of downtown. You have a lovely spot of green that is enjoyed primarily by people you probably wouldn't care to spend much time with. Nothing wrong with these people (they're human beings, despite what cops and politicians think), but they've taken over the park because for decades middle class people haven't felt pulled toward Civic Center except at Christmas time to view the lit-up City & County Building, or in summer to eat over-priced and under-cooked turkey legs at the People's Fair or Taste of Colorado (I liked the People's Fair a lot better when it was on the grounds of East High School--they should move it back there). To get everyone comfortable with using the place, some sort of change is necessary.

Libeskind's proposal is a good starting point. I like his idea of a glass canopy over the Greek Theater, so that people would be more comfortable in enjoying concerts and other entertainments there (adding the canopy will make it more program-able, so that perhaps daily or thrice-weekly daytime and evening events could be held there). I like his idea of a bridge across Colfax, although it needs to start on the west side of Broadway, not the upper level of Civic Center Station on the east side of the street. I even like the idea of a major water feature, although I think his is too large. Civic Center needs more daily activity--not just big festivals a few times in the summer (Libeskind wisely proposes a restaurant function on the ground floor of the McNichols Annex building). It needs to be a place where people in town for a convention will be naturally drawn, crossing it to go the art museum, perhaps, but also to linger for the place's own ambience. Most importantly, it needs to be a place that everyday working downtowners and residents of the Golden Triangle and Capitol Hill will come on a daily basis, the way that people living around Cheesman Park (and Washington and City and Sloans Lake, etc.) go there daily. City Beautiful design doesn't encourage that, at least not in 2006. Libeskind's ideas go a long way toward what needs to happen, even if they're not exactly "right" right now.

To see what I'm talking about, go to www.denverinfill.com/blog/index.html, and go to the entry for August 30th--all the plans, renderings, and models are there.

I don't the City Beautiful movement, but unlike most people whose opinions I've read in the context of the Libeskind proposal, I don't think it's necessarily the best thing for this plot of land, and that it can and should be modified to take into account Denver's real needs. Sure, keep the historical, but don't get hysterical at the idea of introducing change. It's not, contrary to what some have written, change for change's sake, but rather it's change for the sake of reality.

Alright, so maybe I still needed to write about Libeskind. Maybe I'll write next time about Union Station.....

Waste of Space

Thirty-one years ago last month I went to the grand opening of the Aurora Mall. I was a weird little kid, and now I'm a weird little adult. Today I dragged Matt out to that place, for another grand opening.

Today's was Dillard's, which occupies the space that was May D&F when the mall opened, and continued to be Foley's mens & housewares store into the early 2000s. I should backtrack a bit. When the mall opened, it had four anchors: Sears, JC Penney, May D&F, and the Denver. "The Denver" was the final trade name of a company that had started out as McNamara Dry Goods Company at the corner of 15th & Larimer (in the space currently occupied by the Samba Room and the other tenants of that building), became the Denver Dry Goods Company when it moved to 16th and California, and just "The Denver Dry" some time in the 1950s. "The Denver" was a name created in the 1970s, and its fancy hand-written logo was clearly inspired by that of Lord & Taylor, another store owned by Associated Dry Goods.

That's maybe backtracking too far. In 1986, the May Company bought Associated, and merged the Denver with May D&F (later renaming that division for Foley's, a Houston-based department store. The Aurora Mall was then in a quandary--they had no anchor store to take the place of the one that had gone away, so May D&F moved its women's departments into the former space of the Denver on the west side of the mall (more visible from the interstate), and kept just the upper half of their space on the east side of the mall for their men's and housewares departments. The mall then took the lower floor and tried to turn it into another section of mall with smaller stores, but they had a very hard time leasing it.

Then in 1990 Cherry Creek (a mall, but not called a mall officially) opened, and the Aurora Mall became a place where affluent shoppers didn't go any longer. It became a gang mall, and people were afraid to shop there. After a dozen years of failing to revive its fortunes, the mall's owner, a vast real estate entity called the Simon Company--which owns scores of malls all over the country--decided to spend millions of dollars refurbishing it. To give it four anchors again, they convinced May Company--err, Foley's--to consolidate back into one space again, and they made that space bigger by adding on to the building. That freed up the east side for another anchor, and since Dillard's--which had bought the old Joslin's chain some years ago--wanted to get out of Buckingham Square (if Aurora Mall was "worked" by gang members, then Buckingham was where they went on vacation), they agreed to move the three miles. And that freed up Buckingham Square for a complete redevelopment (primarily residential, with a smaller amount of retail), which the city of Aurora is pursuing with the shopping center's owners.

So today Matt and I drove out there--Matt has a personal connection with Aurora Mall, as his father used to sell appliances at JC Penney, back when JC Penney sold appliances--to see the results. Dillard's officially opened on Wednesday, but this was their first weekend.

Entering the mall from the upper level southwest door (the one where the Aurora Mall 3 Cinema used to be), I was pleasantly surprised by the new look--all new floors, walls, and ceilings, with only the escalators remaining from before the remodel. They've added a high-ceilinged food court, clearly modelled after the "lodge" look so popular ten years ago when Dark Meadows was built, and still six years ago when Flatiron Crossing opened. We didn't actually visit the food court--I make this judgement after merely seeing it from the window of my car as we drove around the mall later.

Let me back up a bit again. A few years ago, when they announced the renovation (funded partially with some sort of financial deal with the city--a TIF I suppose, or some such mechanism--our local media had a field day with a little racism scandal involving one of the mall's leasing agents. Recorded for posterity--and replayed endlessly on Denver news stations--the leasing agent told the potential tenant that they were aiming to remove the "young black consumer" (those may have not been the exact words, but that was the clear, unambiguous message of them). Oops.

Not only was the leasing agent fired--probably more for stupidity in letting herself get caught telling the truth than for racism, because we all know how companies like Simon think--but their plan to banish the "young black consumer" seems to have not worked. And that's as it should be--we can imagine what would happen to the "young black consumer" if he were so silly as to show his face at Cherry Creek. After all, this is America, and everyone--even the "young black consumer"--needs a place to practice consumption on the massive scale that American life demands.

Except, of course, for the tendency of the "young black consumer" to not have much in the way of money with which to buy things to fill up the massive closets in his non-existent McMansion.

At Dillard's--and at the remodeled and enlarged Foley's (to become Macy's on the 9th of September--they have a Macy's sign on the outside, covered in a temporary Foley's banner [in case you've been under a rock, the May Company is no more, having been bought by Federated, the parent of Macy's, last year])--I didn't see a whole lot of consuming going on. I saw attractive, new carpeting, elegant store fixtures, beautiful lighting, lots of nice new things to buy--and I saw a fair number of consumers--many young, many black or brown, most with young children. But I didn't see a lot of bags in their hands.

And I'd be willing to bet that even during the week before Christmas I won't (were I to drive all the way out there, which I won't again) see as many people buying things here as I would at Cherry Creek, Dark Meadows, or Flatiron (but see my posting from July 2005 as to why Flatiron's days are numbered). The demographics here don't support the old department store-anchored mall concept--this is Wal-Mart country.

Aurora Mall--did I mention it now sports the name "Town Center at Aurora," as though Aurora is capable of being a town, or of having a center (and what's with the "at"?--University of Colorado at Denver, sure, but Town Center at Aurora?--won't someone please call the language police?)--is dead. It just doesn't know it yet. The city has foolishly spent millions of dollars helping a wealthy real estate company prop up a mall that should have been torn down ten years ago and converted back into pasture land--or affordable housing. Dream on....

Modern Times

Yes, I live. It's been more than a month since I've posted anything, and quite frankly I've thought about quitting this silly little blog. I have enough to do--why should I continue this when I could be working on my so-called novel, or perhaps putting together my history of Denver's 16th Street (a book I've planned to write since about 1997)? But I'm not quitting just yet.

Unlike, I'm afraid, one of my cultural heroes. I've just put two and two together, and realized that Bob Dylan's next album, entitled Modern Times, could likely--will likely--be his last. People who know me know that I've been a Dylan fan for 23 years, and I've stuck with him through thick (wonderful albums like Oh Mercy, Time Out of Mind, and Love & Theft) and thin (excrement like Dylan & The Dead, Knocked Out Loaded, and Down in the Groove). So figuring this out hits me rather hard. And yes, you can be gay and a Bob Dylan fan. I'm proof.

I could be wrong--Dylan has never said he'd retire, and I don't think he will. I think he'll suddenly not wake up one day, and I will have to wear black for a while. It's in the symbols:

1. The new album, to be released on the last Tuesday in August, is called Modern Times. Charlie Chaplin's final film was also called Modern Times. In the liner notes to the very first Bob Dylan album, Bob Dylan (1962), is this statement:

Another strong influence on Bob Dylan was not a musician primarily, although he has written music, but a comedian -- Charlie Chaplin. After seeing many Chaplin films, Dylan found himself beginning to pick up some of the gestures of the classic tramp of silent films. Now as he appears on the stage in a humorous number, you can see Dylan nervously tapping his hat, adjusting it, using it as a prop, almost leaning on it, as the Chaplin tramp did before him.

Okay, that's a tenuous connection. Bob Dylan isn't Charles Chaplin--but like Chaplin, he's the greatest artist in his field, and like Chaplin's influence on film, he has influenced countless singers and songwriters. And Dylan knows Chaplin's work and career trajectory. Modern Times was Chaplin's final statement.

2. The last song on the new album is "Ain't Talkin.'" Oh really? He's never been one for talking, preferring to cloak his utterances in mystery, in non sequiturs, in magic symbolism. But if this were to be the last cut on the last album, what a fitting title.

3. This is entirely personal, and somewhat narcissistic: I'm 44. This is his 44th album. His first was released in 1962. I was born in 1962. Add four and four and you get eight, which is a powerful number. It all adds up.

Maybe I'm nuts, but I think Modern Times is his last album.....say it isn't so, Bob!

The Good, the Great, the Gawd-awful

Today I did one of my cycling tours of Denver architecture, one of those days when I just noodle around taking pictures of buildings.

The good news today for downtown Denver is that one of the least-wonderful surface parking lots, the one facing the Voorhees Memorial in Civic Center, has been replaced by the DNA building....that's Denver Newspaper Agency. Sadly, the only good thing to come from the 2000 merger of the business operations of two once-wonderful newspapers, The Denver Post and the Rocky Mountain News (note the correct capitalization--"The" is part of the Post's actual name, while "the" is not part of the Rocky's) is this new building, which will house, once its open, the combined business operations of the two "newspapers" and the separate "newsrooms." Note my cynicism. William Newton Byers and Frederick G. Bonfils would be appalled at the sorry state of these once useful members of the Fourth Estate--but I digress.

What I like about the DNA building is the way it completes the north wall of Civic Center. This site has been a surface parking lot for a very long time, probably longer than I've been alive. And now it's this:

When the design for this building was announced, I wasn't happy, because the rendering published in the "paper" made it look like a clone of the nearby Wellington G. Webb Building, the cool curvy building just north of the City & County Building. Like the Webb Building, the DNA features a gently curved element that intersects with a blocky one--but unlike the Webb, it's bright white in color, and the overall effect is that instead of slavishly copying the Webb, it complements it. It also is a nice neighbor to one of downtown's underappreciated gems, the old Petroleum Club building at 16th Street and Broadway. The DNA is separated from this 1960 Modernist office building by an alley, but it keeps a respectful distance, and the DNA's architect's choice of white surely is not coincidental--I think he meant to be a good neighbor to the Petroleum. Here's a view of the two buildings side by side, taken from the shuttle turnaround across the street:

You see that the people who have windows on the southeast side of the Petroleum Building still have their view of the State Capitol because of the way the DNA skooches aside from its older neighbor. And it's even about the same height, creating a nice cohesion for the street.

I also really like what they've done to the Colfax side of this new building at the ground level: established an architecturally interesting covered sidewalk:

Of course you wouldn't want to walk this way if you were intoxicated at all....it could be a bit disorienting.

That was the "Good" of this posting's title. The Great is seen in this next shot, taken at the same point as the one just above, but looking across Colfax. This is one of the more interesting justapositions I've found lately: the new Hamilton Wing of the DAM framed by the archway of the Voorhees Memorial:

And as long as I'm talking about that, here's another shot of the new museum wing, taken from 12th and Acoma. About a mile or two south of Taos there is a famous church, called the Ranchos de Taos Church, and nearly every artist who has ever lived in New Mexico has painted or photographed it. I think the Hamilton Wing will become our Ranchos de Taos:

As you can see, this building is interesting even at the very worst time for taking a photo: midday in the middle of summer. Imagine what this will be like at 4:30 on a December afternoon, the titanium panels reflecting the golden orange of our winter smog sunsets.

And now for the Gawd-awful: less than a block from our wonderful new museum a structure has taken shape on Broadway that defies the English language--I can think of no words to describe how wrong this building is (but I'll try):

No, I don't mean the two story for-lease building on the right. I mean the architectural abomination on the left. Let's see, where to start?

1. The side bears no relationship with the front--it's as though they built an 8-story wall first, and then decided to attach a building of some kind to it. The wall is better suited to a parking garage than an upscale residence. And the wall is cinder block, while the front is stucco--the message is "cheap."

2. Those rounded dormer things on top--as much as I despise the architecture of the Beauvallon, this is worse, because it's like a low budget version of the Beauvallon. It's like settling for Safeway Select when you really want Coke. Neither are good for you, but Coke tastes like real cola. Likewise, the Beauvallon set Denver architecture back about 50 years, but at least they spent some money on the details. Not so, here. Even though they haven't yet installed the balcony railings, nothing can salvage this.

3. The massing and scale--astonishingly wrong for the context. The developer is obviously a greedy bastard from Texas or California who is trying to squeeze as much money as he can from this hot property a half block from the art museum. Note the modest scale of the building on the right--people who lived in Denver 15 or so years ago will remember that this was once painted a garish purple, and housed an office supply store. The building is underutilized right now, but it has nice lines and could be salvaged for a restaurant or something. Also, the Broadway Plaza Motel, which abuts this digusting mass of stucco and cinder block on the far left, is a decent Modernist 3-story structure that is reasonably well-maintained and, as far as I can tell, a fairly viable business. The new neighbor is so far from it in spirit that it's like watching American Idol after an episode of The Twilight Zone.

Although I never thought the structures this building replaced (including a weirdly set-back liquor store) were an asset to Denver, I'd gladly see them rebuilt in place of this mess.

I guess what I'm saying is: there ought to be a law against this kind of vulgarity, against cramming so much housing "product" in such an ungainly way onto this too-visible site, and against the developer and architect ever being allowed to build anything anywhere in the world ever again until the end of time. In October, when the museum has its grand opening, the international architectural press will be here covering it--and what will these journalists see lurking just a short walk away, with nothing to screen it: only the worst building of the 21st century.

No, I don't like to mince words.

Imagine a Great Stairway

Yes, I know I haven't posted in a while. I was on vacation in wonderfully cool and wet Minnesota--and I'm talking about the nicest part of that state, Ottertail County. My sister lives there, in a wonderful WPA-built rural schoolhouse.

I've been back from that vacation for more than 10 days, so I can't use it as an excuse anymore.

This weekend felt like old home week to me, because I helped move the Tattered Cover bookstore into its new home in the Lowenstein Theater building on Colfax Avenue across the street from East High. On Saturday afternoon I spent a couple of hours in Cherry Creek. The atmosphere was odd, because the store had fewer customers than most Saturday afternoons, most of the comfortable chairs were gone, and there was an odd echo in the stairway. But everyone I encountered--of those people I know, who worked there when I did--seemed strangely energized by the impending move. I probably had at least 10 different conversations with people. When I asked them what they'd miss, the answer that was most frequent was "the stairway."

Odd to miss a stairway. But for any of you readers who don't remember the previous versions of the Tattered Cover--the "Old Store" on the north side of Second Avenue (in what is today the Men's Wearhouse building); and the "Middle Store" on the south side of Second Avenue (in what is today Kazoo & Company)--the stairway in the 1st and Milwaukee building was something special. Both the Old and Middle stores had stairways, but they were comparatively simple compared to the one in the 1st & Milwaukee store. When Joyce Meskis first announced the lease on that building, most people thought her completely nuts. Denver's economy was in free-fall, there was a derelict 1950s shopping center across the street, and no one in this town (or in very many others) had ever seen a 30,000-square foot bookstore.

And yet it worked, and if there was one element that made it work, besides the overwhelming amount of stock, and wonderfully expert help, it was the stairway that connected the first, second and third floors. It was too steep--most people would get out of breath if they went directly from one to three without pause--but it was lined with books, and the vantage points it offered made it seem like the Tattered Cover was the largest bookstore anywhere. It wasn't of course (even then, Powell's in Portland was bigger, and the Union Square Barnes & Noble was too). The stairway was such an integral part of the store that in future years, what people will talk about when the 1st & Milwaukee Tattered Cover comes up in conversation will be that massive, winding stair.

But a stairway does not a bookstore make, all on its own. And now the Tattered Cover has broken new ground, and done something even more interesting than fill up an old department store with books: it has filled up an old theater with books. Built in the early 1950s, the Bonfils (pronounced "Bon-fees"; later renamed the Lowenstein, which was -steen, not -styne) was Denver's first major postwar attempt at creating an amenity worthy of a "big" city. No expense was spared, including pink-tinted glass in the lobby, embellished with frosted glass ornamentation.

Today I arrived, with scores of other volunteers, and a great many employees--many of whom I'd seen the day before, but some of whom I hadn't seen in years--at 7:30 a.m. Coffee and scones were provided, and at 8:00 we were given our instructions. Volunteers were paired up with staff, and the boxes started flowing in (people had worked into the night at Cherry Creek packing and stacking). By 11:00 or so you could look around and say "this looks like a bookstore." When I left at 12:30 the afternoon volunteers were arriving, and I assume by now that all books have found their new homes. The store opens tomorrow morning.

All in all it was a wonderful way to spend a weekend, saying goodbye to an old friend, and meeting a new one for the first time. Although I haven't worked for the Tattered Cover in more than six years, it remains as important to my life as it has been since the early 1980s (when it was still in the Old Store). It has been my refuge and my friend. I wish it well, and you can bet I'll be spending some money there before the new week is old.

No Right Angles

It starts as you come around the curve on 14th Avenue. There's this shape looming up over the Bach Wing of the Denver Art Museum.










And then you get to the plaza in front of the library, and you see more.





And then there you are.

I admit it, I love the new Hamilton Wing of the Denver Art Museum. I know all the arguments against this kind of architecture, but I love it anyway. It's gorgeous, and when you stand on the other side of 13th from it, and look up, it fills the sky. And it's gorgeous.



It points to the old building--the one that two generations of Denverites have never emotionally embraced (although I've loved it from the time I was 10 years old).







And I can't wait for it to open....five more months.

That's all. I just wanted to share these photos, taken this morning, with you.

Wanton Destruction

This is a follow-up to my last posting, on the wanton destruction on the Stapleton runway tunnels over Sand Creek.

It wasn't supposed to happen!

In Friday's paper, at least in my neighborhood, Forest City included a copy of their quarterly magazine, Stapleton. They've been publishing this for four or five years now, from right about the time construction on the first neighborhoods began. The arrival of this magazine in my newspaper prompted some investigation.

I'll admit, I'm fascinated with the old airport. When I was a kid it meant Grandma was coming in from New York on TWA. When I grew older it meant that I was going somewhere on a jet plane. Now I'm watching Stapleton very closely, because from my earliest childhood I've always been fascinated with urban development. The only reason I ever got into Charles Dickens (I'm re-reading Bleak House right now, after last winter's wonderful Masterpiece Theatre adaptation) was because London was a central character in most of his novels. When I was in London, one of the books I found (and bought) was a book about the genesis and ongoing development of the Tube map. And I read it cover to cover.

Back to the investigation....

When the Stapleton Visitor Center first opened I dragged Matt out there to look at the expensive architectural models....and to buy a copy of "the Green Book." Officially called Stapleton Development Plan, the Green Book was published by the Stapleton Redevelopment Foundation in 1995, and reprinted by Forest City in 1999. I compared the map in the new issue of Stapleton with the maps in the Green Book, and I have to say, Forest City, in its initial development of neighborhoods immediately east of Quebec and north of Montview, did a better job than what the Green Book proposed. Of course, in 1995 it was all about finding ways to make this land an extension of Denver and Aurora neighborhoods, and the initial ideas were mostly boring grids. If you go out to Stapleton now, they used the grid, but far more creatively. There are some wonderful amenities.

But one thing that Forest City did that the Green Book didn't really suggest to be part of the redevelopment was to build an ungodly amount of retail space surrounded by blinding white concrete. If you go to Quebec Square, the Wal-Mart, Sam's and Home Despot-anchored power center that stretches from the United Airlines flight training center to Smith Road, you'll find a pretty unimpressive sea of parking, and a fairly unimaginative roster of national chain tenants (along with a number of vacant spaces). You could be in Aurora, or--Lark Ridge! (refer to my posting about Lark Ridge from last October or November). I hate Quebec Square. It really doesn't have anything to do with the Green Book's vision. Sure, that land was meant to be commercial--you wouldn't want to have houses fronting busy Quebec, or that close to I-70--but why did they have to make Quebec Square so damned ugly?

Then there's NorthField at Stapleton, an even bigger shopping complex north of I-70. As I mentioned previously, NorthField is anchored by Bass Pro Shops Outdoor World, a tourist trap for ignorant Bush voters (oh wait--that's a redundant phrase--all Bush voters are ignorant, therefore if you use the word "ignorant" in front of "Bush" you're merely repeating yourself).

Sorry...where was I? Currently open at NorthField, in addition to Bass, are a multiplex cinema, a Circuit City, and a SuperTarget. Under contruction--but physically separate from the line up of Bass, CC and ST--another sea of concrete being the transition zone--is a so-called "main street" of retail shops, anchored by Harkins on one end and Macy's on the other (in case you didn't know, Foley's is to be re-named Macy's by the fall of this year). The pedestrian-only "street" (think of the Village at FlatIron Crossing) is about two blocks long between the two anchors.

And that's not all! In the site plan published in Stapleton, the site will be symmetrical, meaning several more big-box anchors on the eastern edge of the site to balance Bass, et al., on the western edge--and of course separated from the other retail by lots and lots of parking. I realize that the northeast quadrant of the metro area is "under-served" (according to retail experts) compared to other parts of the metro area. After all, no one wants to build a Whole Foods in Commerce City--or a Barnes & Noble, or anything else for the educated and affluent. But this is absurd, AND it's poorly-designed. After the debacle of Quebec Square, I doubt Stapleton really will ever need this much retail space. It might be different if the whole area was surrounded by residential areas, but remember the vast Rocky Mountain Arsenal National Wildlife Refuge is across the northern boundary of old Stapleton, and there is a huge warehouse district to the east. Stapleton will have 30,000 residents at full build-out, but I predict they'll go to Cherry Creek for their retail needs, not wanting to deal with the gridlock around Bass Pro Shops. While there are plans to build residential neighborhoods on the Stapleton land immediately south of the arsenal, there won't be enough population to support all this. There just won't.

But why am I ranting about NorthField? Because it's not supposed to be there, according to the Green Book. The Stapleton Master Plan of 1995 shows a lovely diagonal open space running southwest to northeast across the northern part of the old airport, connecting Sand Creek to the Arsenal. It's labelled "Sandhills Prairie Park," and while it's not a formal Olmsted-esque city park, it's nevertheless meant to be natural and open, allowing wildlife to move freely from refuge to creek. And NorthField is right in the middle of it! In other words, there is no "Sandhills Prairie Park," or if there is, it's not going to be contiguous with the wildlife refuge. The only aspect of NorthField that remains "natural" is the pond next to Bass Pro Shops--and that's not much.

But the original point of this posting isn't the unnecessary amount of retail. It's the tunnels. The thing is, they were supposed to remain. Maybe not as tunnels, but as something. On page 5-22 of the Green Book (the book is divided into sections, hence the odd pagination) there's a lovely pencil sketch of the Sand Creek Trail, with concrete structures bisecting the creek. Caption: "The existing runway tunnel structure could be opened up with the arched wall elements remaining for historical interest."

Yes, that's a "could," and the Green Book was meant merely to guide development, not absolutely dictate everything. But still, what a shame. Denver re-used the interesting concrete structures of the old municipal sewage plant at the South Platte and Franklin (just southwest of Riverside Cemetery), incorporating them as sculptural elements in the boringly-named new park known as "North Park" that very few people (save graffiti artists, dog trainers and cyclists) seem to know about. Check out that park (via car, you can go north on Washington from I-70, and cut over on one of the side avenues a few blocks north of the freeway), and imagine what might have been at Stapleton.