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The day the hotel died
By Barry A. Muskat
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The infamous Elmwood and Forest Victorians
the hotel (plans at top) would have replaced.
Photos by Jim Bush.
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There are several new hotels near the airport, scattered around the ruins of the old Executive Inn. In the city, there’s the Hyatt on Main, the waterfront’s Adam’s Mark, Chippewa’s Hampton Inn, the Mansion on Delaware, and an array of other lodging options. New hotels are planned to be some component of three major multi-use downtown projects. They will comprise a yet-to-be-determined number of floors in the restored Statler Building, the former Dulski Building, and Basher Issa’s proposed glass skyscraper.
Why then, with all these rentable lodgings in Buffalo’s hospitality network, is it so troubling that the small hotel at the corner of Elmwood and Forest never got a fair shot?
The Elmwood hotel was to be a bit different from the rest—a neighborhood hotel, boutique in scale, designed for a part of the city that really would have embraced and supported it. Its proximity to the Albright-Knox Art Gallery, to the new Burchfield-Penney Art Center, and to Buffalo State College gave synergy to a site that wouldn’t need to wait for conventions or special events to boost its occupancy rate. It was a sure bet to be consistently booked.
A quality hotel would have brought out-of-town visitors directly to the Elmwood strip. Hotel guests would stroll its blocks, shop its shops, drink at its bars, dine in its restaurants, and enjoy a part of the city they may otherwise not have discovered.
I have to state that I, personally, venerate our country’s vernacular architecture. Vernacular buildings are (in the most positive sense of the words) the ordinary, everyday, commonplace pieces of our built environment. I’ve long been a proponent of the concept that, in many ways, they’re more important to study than the grand buildings that are typically taught in architectural history classes. They are unpretentious, indigenous, and humble, and represent the ritual of a region’s everyday life. That being noted, I believe that from a realistic perspective, the five buildings that currently exist on the parcel of land at Elmwood and Forest have little architectural merit. There are many better examples of their type throughout the city. They have none of the significance of the now-demolished Atwater House and have few signs of routine repairs or investment. They form part of a larger streetscape, but their shabby condition and deep set-backs frame a poor entry to the important approach from the north to the Elmwood corridor. They are easily expendable.
Planned by Savarino Companies and shepherded by Eva Hassett, the design for the new hotel was decent, and actually improved with input from the public and Forever Elmwood. As plans were refined, Karl Frizlen’s thoughtful plans morphed into a package that really fit the neighborhood. The height of the building was reduced by eliminating an entire story. The façade and its detailing became more interesting, the storefronts became more transparent, and pedestrian and vehicular traffic were addressed. The project underwent successful rezoning by the Common Council, had Planning Board approval, and received enthusiastic endorsement from the Preservation Board.
Sure, parking may have been a bit problematic—but probably not more so than under current conditions. A traffic circle or major reconfiguration of that intersection has long been on the drawing boards and should improve the traffic flow. The hotel project included vehicular access from Forest Avenue, underground parking, and a small lot off Forest at grade level.
The project was extremely pedestrian-friendly. A wide sidewalk was to be heated from the underground garage. Forever Elmwood’s architectural guidelines call for buildings to be built to the front lot line, and the hotel’s storefronts would be at the sidewalk. As they stand now, each set-back entry of each existing building is an accident waiting to happen. When taken in conjunction with the four separate driveways, each sending cars into a busy thoroughfare, the existing situation has multiple perils. Elimination of the driveways would have improved safety, given opportunities for landscape furniture, and added more parallel parking at the curb.
A lawsuit challenging the rezoning process put a temporary stop to the hotel. The wind was further knocked out of the developer’s sails when title research revealed deed restrictions that dated back to the 1880s (when the area was called Granger Estates). These historic restrictions required that any development on Elmwood be set back twenty-five feet (in contrast to current guidelines and not allowing a sufficient footprint to be viable). Further restrictions prohibited “any commercial activity whatsoever.” These are antiquated laws that have zero relevance to Elmwood’s current climate. Nor are they consistent with the site’s long history of mercantile activity. The legal challenge and potential for future challenges proved to be the final death knell for the project.
Let’s be frank. What more appropriate design could have been done for that corner? Existing corner buildings on Delaware, Elmwood, Hertel, and Main Street are close to the street, are often two and three stories high, and have mercantile storefronts. Their second floors have windows that look out to the street. Some have decorative brickwork and elaborate cornices that address the street intersection. They function to frame the entry to their blocks. They’re welcoming, or imposing, or modest, but they create urban density with their strong vertical and horizontal lines.
From an urban design perspective, this multi-use building would have been the perfect complement for the vitality and momentum of a healthy Elmwood Avenue. Wyndham Hotels would have been a first-rate operator, and an interesting partnership was forged with Buffalo State’s hospitality program.
A beautiful new hotel might have attracted new merchants and new energies to the Elmwood Strip. (Have any city folk visited the Orchard, a small plaza in Orchard Park that has managed to attract upscale stores like Jos. A. Bank, Ann Taylor Loft, Talbot’s, and Coldwater Creek?) It’s been demonstrated with new construction further south on Elmwood that upscale stores can successfully add to the eclectic mix of shopping opportunities.
Buffalonians are terrific fans. We boost the Sabres, the Bills, the arts, and our region. We’re also great at rallying opposition. We embrace opposition and do it with a passion. We oppose rival sports teams, a Signature Bridge design, and casino development. We’ve opposed Gwathmey Siegel’s museum design for the Burchfield-Penney (now under construction). We’ve even opposed Uniland’s new building at Gates Circle for months, prior to an actual design even being presented. And we opposed a perfectly acceptable development project at Elmwood and Forest.
The oppositionists have won. And look at what they’ve preserved for us. They’ve preserved the status quo—the shabby, shoddy status quo. They’ve saved five miserably maintained mediocre houses. But no one has stepped forward with alternate plans to preserve or reinvest in these properties, to inventively reuse them in a dynamic way. That’s because their construction doesn’t warrant rehabilitation or reinvestment. We’re stuck with them. It’s discouraging. How can we as a city progress, if we keep winning each campaign against progress?
Barry A. Muskat is Buffalo Spree’s architecture critic and is a frequent contributor. He is an architectural historian, a businessman, and serves on the city’s Preservation Board. Muskat recognizes that not all new development projects are necessarily good—but he also staunchly believes that not all new development projects are necessarily bad.
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