Photo credit Joe Karr
The Marcus Center circa 1970
Even if you didn’t agree with him—and most in the room didn't—you had to admire Marcus Center architect Jim Shields’ persistence Monday afternoon as he made his case to the Historic Preservation Committee. Ahead of a vote he was all but destined to lose, Shields dutifully presented his case that the Marcus Center lost its historical integrity long ago, firing off slide after slide detailing all the unfortunate changes and bastardizations the building has suffered over the last half century. The Marcus Center is no longer the gleaming, regal monument it was when it was unveiled in 1969—in fact, almost literally none of its original façade remains. The magnificent white marble was replaced decades ago by a dreary beige composite of limestone and granite that seems to suck the very life out of its surroundings.
That’s precisely why the Marcus Center wants to give its campus a facelift, a good-faith effort that hit a roadblock when its plans ran afoul of a passionate contingent that wants to see a chestnut grove on the Marcus grounds preserved. Hence Monday’s vote to grant historical designation to the Marcus Center, which will make it much more difficult for the Marcus Center to make changes to architect Dan Kiley’s design for the grove.
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Those changes are badly needed, for a litany of practical reasons. What was once apparently a spacious, peaceful plot has become so dark, overgrown and underused that Marcus Center employees refer to it as the black forest. It’s bleak and depressing. The tree’s roots are tangled, and some of the trees are dying. There’s no way around it, the Marcus Center insists. The very design of the grove is unsustainable, and in its current state it poses a safety risk. “No one wants a repeat of O'Donnell Park,” Marcus Center President and CEO Paul Mathews argued, referencing the concrete slab that fell from a county parking garage and killed a 15-year-old.
But the grove’s many supporters Monday painted a very different picture, arguing passionately for a grove that’s beloved in theory but neglected, impractical and nakedly uninviting in reality. Their love and concern for the grove and its history is moving. But like so much of the Marcus Center, the grove’s history has already been lost. Even the movable chairs that Kiley recommended for the grove have been replaced by benches so low to the ground they seem like a cruel joke, more tripping hazard than functional seating. The grove is no longer a serene respite from the city, if it even ever was. Instead it’s become a mausoleum, a commemoration of its own failure that soberly asks visitors to consider what it could have been with a more tenable design and a lot more TLC.
History aside, nobody could see that plot and think it’s the best possible use of that space. At Monday’s public hearing, a representative of one of the organizations that regularly hosts outdoor events at the Marcus Center, the youth non-profit TRUE Skool, testified that the grove is a wasted opportunity. “The stone benches are uncomfortable, the gravel makes it unsafe for the kids who run through there,” she argued.
The gravel is an even bigger concern for patrons with mobility issues, as is the sunken layout of the grove. The mother of a son in a wheelchair testified movingly about her son feeling excluded after he was unable to access the grove along with other children. And while the grove’s defenders insist that accessibility is beyond the scope of this debate—Ald. Robert Bauman went so far as to accuse that mother of trying to “weaponize accessibility”—these concerns are real. This is a debate about a public space that by its very design is inaccessible to some of the public.
Even if it were possible to the restore the grove to its former glory, the Marcus Center wants to create a space that's more accommodating and better used. It deserves the chance to try, rather than being handcuffed to the mistakes of the past.
