The developer, Allison Davis, was buzzing around the refreshment tent and sales trailer on that fateful Saturday, looking down his quite-Patrician nose at the commoners trying to buy his babies - complete with granite countertops, Kohler toilets and Berber carpeting.

Rumors are flying on my street that a few of my neighbors made a real estate killing a couple of weeks ago. Overnight, the gossip goes, their assets grew by $175,000. That's because, the way the rumor-mongers tell it, they had the smarts to go over to the new sales trailer of the latest going-up high rise, the Columbian on the southwest corner of Michigan and Roosevelt, and hand over a check to reserve a unit. That was on Saturday. On Sunday, the gossips say, those same units were worth more - a lot more.
But I'm a little suspicious that the true value of real estate in the neighborhood could possibly be that positively upwardly volatile. Or maybe I'm a little jealous because I was there that fateful Saturday, but lacked the sense to plunk down a mere $2,500 to put dibs on one for myself.
But frankly, I saw a few things that made me nervous. Like the fact that the sales trailer was actually being built while the Saturday visitors arrived. There were no model rooms constructed - but there was a "virtual tour" of the to-be-built units playing continuously on a video screen. Hammers, nails, unfinished landscaping, and other finishing touches surrounded the Saturday visitors, who were acting like they were buying the last of the last markdowns on wedding dresses at Filene's Basement - rather than a super-expensive piece of real estate that they could get stuck paying taxes, mortgage, and assessments on. I also saw on the floor plans that very few bathrooms had double-bowled sinks and too many bedrooms had balconies. Who wants to march their burgers and hot-dogs through the bedroom for a barbecue? Not to mention their guests.
But the buyers were an aggressive bunch, and they champed at the bit to tear down the gate and buy a new luxury condo. Even as they were scorned in a sadistic little dance by the developer, which included making them stand in line too long to get in, show an invitation, wait endless hours to see individual agents - while sipping coffee, eating cranberry strudel and listening to tunes played on an electric keyboard under a party tent with royal blue-clothed tables outside in the parking lot. And just generally be sneered at.
But why not stand for that - if you can get in on the ground floor? The site of the new Columbian is hallowed ground in Chicago. It was the home of the Avenue Motel for decades before the city condemned it. I had always thought it would be a great site for restoration and landmark status, as the motel there was a great example of '50s Americana style. There was also talk of the site hosting an immense jazz museum, which would have been nice - especially so near the museum campus. The property owner at the time (who hadn't owned it very long when the city made its move) held out, got the city into court and got quite a sum - millions as I recall - for the property.
Exactly how the city transferred the property (and for how much) to its current developer, Allison Davis, I don't know. But it would be interesting to see whether the city recouped the money it spent wresting it out of the hands of its previous owner.
The developer, Allison Davis, was buzzing around the refreshment tent and sales trailer on that fateful Saturday, looking down his quite-Patrician nose at the commoners trying to buy his babies - complete with granite countertops, Kohler toilets and Berber carpeting.
The sad thing is that the Columbian will steal away some of my neighbors on State and Plymouth - though only as far as a two-minute walk east on Roosevelt.
But the Columbian will be carrying on the tradition for most people who move in the South Loop. They move up - not out.
So many of my neighbors have gone from high-rise condos or low-rise duplexes in the red buildings - or white or cream-colored townhomes - in Dearborn Park I, to larger townhomes or single family homes in Dearborn Park II. Now many of my neighbors are really looking forward to living their Golden years in the South Loop in a super-duper Michigan Avenue high rise. But not until 2007, when the units will be ready.
And who knows? They may want to cash in their profits before then.

The Roosevelt Hotel has been causing trouble ever since I moved to the South Loop more than 10 years ago. It used to be known as a rat-infested, drug-infested, derelict-infested flop house, with flashing lights on the roof and a currency exchange on the ground floor. Even though one of the many ever-changing restaurants that took up residence in the old building at Roosevelt and Wabash was reputed to serve the best corned beef sandwich in Chicago, I wouldn't allow myself to walk into the place, let alone eat a morsel of food from it.
Still, one of my greatest regrets is that I passed up a "tour" of the old Roosevelt offered by some cops who I got to know a few years ago through the police CAPS program. They were dying to take me and a friend into the place (under what auspices I'm not entirely sure) but we just never got it together. And lo and behold, one day the place was sold to a couple of local speculators who gutted it, leased the ground floor to a Chinese restaurant and a yuppie breakfast place, and made small, rather charming--and expensive--rental apartments upstairs.
As it got sandblasted during its reincarnation, a name from the past--"Hotel Somerset"--emerged on the muted red brick, and a plaque went up announcing that the building was a landmark built in 1889.
Through the years I have come to appreciate the rehabbed building's architectural detail, such as arched windows and solid lintels that the developers left alone as they gave the building its new life.
I also came to like the chocolate pancakes and red-pepper omelets, moo shu pork and sesame chicken served in the two restaurants, respectively, even though I resented the fact that the yuppie breakfast place (Room 12) rolled up the sidewalk and closed its doors at 2 p.m. Not exactly good for a busy corner in an emerging neighborhood.
I even ran over to the Roosevelt on the first day they held an open house for prospective tenants, just to see it, and truly enjoyed the nods to turn-of-the century Chicago that the builders included in the doors, the lighting, the appointments.
But there was also an omen about the Roosevelt renovation--several omens, in fact--that didn't sit right with me.
For one, the job never really seemed complete. I would sit at the Starbucks across the street, look at the building, and wait for some finishing touch or other that I just couldn't put my finger on. Something was missing, some restorative piece of the vintage puzzle that they just didn't have in their repertoire.
To make matters worse, many of the new window panes were broken before the first tenants even moved in.
Another grizzly sign: During the building out of Room 12, there was a mean-looking dog that I never trusted who would patrol off leash outside on the corner around the building, and it gave me the creeps.
And one night I passed by the big storefront windows just before the grand opening and there was a toilet brush on one of the tables--the vision of which has bothered me ever since.
I also hated the fact that the builders kept the big yellow banner up advertising "new apartments for rent" way longer than they should have.
Then a few months ago, as readers of the Chicago Journal probably know, the Roosevelt had a mysterious flood in its basement a few months that destroyed its electrical system, resulting in the building being uninhabitable. Tenants came home one afternoon to a broken building and a blocked off street, and that was the last of the life they knew.
In the time it is taking to fix the damage, five Roosevelt Hotels could have been built. Management keeps pushing back the date when the building will be fixed and people can move back in. It looks like the landmark hotel will have been closed almost a year by the time it reopens.
Roosevelt wasn't up and running in its new incarnation very long before it died. In fact, the banner is still up--even though every single tenant, including the two restaurants, has moved out.
I miss the Roosevelt, and I wish the gentrification police would get on its case. All there is to see on its corner is darkness, dankness and dirty windows.Very dirty windows.
After a short-lived renaissance, the Roosevelt, for the time being, is giving its corner another black eye. Maybe being a troublemaker is deep in its foundation, wired into its conduit, a part of the brickwork that even substantial tuckpointing can't remove. Maybe it's got a bad-building gene. Or a demon ghost. Even though it has pretty windows. And a plaque.

When Allison Davis and I purchased the Roosevelt Hotel in 2001, it was vacant and smelly, the floor sagged, the roof leaked, the basement was wet, the façade was in terrible shape and the corner of Roosevelt and Wabash was frequented by the previous tenancy of the unsavory transient hotel that existed for years. For such an important corner in the burgeoning South Loop, it was a shame.
However, together with the help and vision of my partner, the City of Chicago, Alderman Madeline Haithcock and the Illinois Department of Preservation in Springfield, we were able to completely rehabilitate the property, and rent it to 40 residents (with nine affordable units), and two restaurants that thrived. Our vision of the transformation of the corner and the Roosevelt Hotel into the most vibrant, lively one in the South Loop had been attained.
And then on November 16th... our water main broke.
The basement flooded to eight feet, destroying all of the electrical switch gear, the elevator machine room, the sprinkler pumps, the hot water boilers, the telephone wiring, tenant belongings, restaurant supplies, washing machines and all the rooms and walls in the basement. Although fortunately nobody was hurt, it disrupted many lives as the building was shut down. It has created financial hardships on everyone involved. The residents needed new housing, the restaurant owners and employees were out of work, and Allison and I began the long road to dealing with a large, cumbersome insurance company that has taken its time dealing with this large claim.
Finally though, construction has commenced and we are working diligently to put the building back together and expect to provide occupancy this summer. Both Room 12 and Yang's Chinese Restaurant are (impatiently) waiting for this work to be completed. Many of our tenants are waiting as well. They are committed to our building and the neighborhood.
Bonnie McGrath clearly loves the South Loop, she make her home there and has many interesting views and opinions on this great neighborhood. I share her love and have a passion for the South Loop, having developed many neighborhood buildings helping shape its personality. But a little compassion for those affected by this incident would have been appropriate, rather than sarcasm and flippancy from her March 3rd editorial titled "Roosevelt Hotel Can't Shake Its Bad Juju".
We have started fixing the basement, cleaning the windows, redoing the lobby, dusting off our plaques, working with our tenants, finding new ones and yes--updating our signs. When you feel the vibrancy of the corner return and see the bright red neon of the historic Roosevelt Hotel sign back on, you will know our building is open again for business!

---

By carneau@yahoo.com from loop
Posted: 06/30/2009 4:14 PM

6 months to clean up a flood? isn't that a bit excessive?

---

By Daniel from Printers Row
Posted: 06/11/2009 7:31 AM

A question. What was the TIF money for the project given for? To make the building a hotel or a rental property? I would be curious to see if they actually met the requirements of the TIF donation to the project.