HISTORY LESSON: With these failed building plans, let's imagine the Detroit that might have been

Welcome to History Lesson, a new recurring feature in Model D led by local historian Jacob Jones, in which we delve deep into the annals of Detroit history and nerd out over a different topic each time. This month, we're talking about big plans for Detroit developments that didn't come into existence.

On a blistering cold day in early December, I was leading an architectural tour of Downtown Detroit. After about 45 minutes, I could tell my guests from Atlanta needed to warm up, so we hurried from our spot in Capitol Park towards the newly renovated Book Tower on Washington Boulevard. We walked through its massive doors and ducked into the miniature museum built in the grand lobby. My guests’ eyes were immediately drawn to an image on the wall depicting an 81-story addition to the building which was planned but never constructed. They were mesmerized by it.

Standing in one of the grandest historic lobbies anyone will ever see, these out-of-towners were intrigued -- not by what was built, but what never was. It was the perfect opportunity to lead them down one of Detroit’s lesser-known architectural history rabbit holes to discuss the marvels that would have been. A failed attempt at expanding the Book Tower, ideas for the Fisher Building to have additional towers, mothballed plans for riverfront stadiums, abandoned civic centers, midcentury skyscrapers that never came to be – all of these which only exist in imagination.

It’s one of my favorite parts of the Detroit architectural story, and a reminder that the things we didn’t build tells just as interesting of a story of our City as the things we actually did. A full accounting of Detroit’s unrealized architectural reality could fill multiple columns, but here are three of my favorites.

(And to Mike from suburban Atlanta: This one's for you.)

Planned Book Tower addition

No account of Detroit’s unbuilt structures is complete without the Louis Kamper-designed Book Tower’s 81-story addition. It would have been the tallest structure not just in Detroit, but in the entire world. The Books brothers -- J. Burgess, Herbert, and Frank -- funded the construction of multiple structures, including the Book Cadillac Hotel, the Industrial Morris Plan Bank Building (now known as the Kamper Building), and the original Book Building. But their crowning achievement came in 1926 when they opened the 38-story Book Tower. The building is truly unlike any other in the City, and perhaps unlike any other in the world. The reaction to its unique Italian Renaissance and Baroque design was mixed, but its place at the top of the city’s skyline was undeniable. Topping out at 475 feet, it was the tallest building in the city until it was surpassed by the Penobscot Building two years later.

The 81-story addition was meant to continue their dominance over Washington Boulevard and to regain the title of tallest building in the City, but ultimately, the devastating effects of the Great Depression spelled an end to the Books’ ambitions.
 
The Kern Block

The development of the black hole that once was home to the Hudson’s department store is arguably the biggest development project in Detroit this century. But long before the original Hudson’s met the wrecking ball, Detroiters were pondering what to do with the site of another demolished department store.

Kern’s neighbored and rivaled Hudson’s for decades, at one point employing over 500 people. But a lack of parking, the rise of suburban shopping, and expensive operating costs, the Kern family sold its business in 1957. The Downtown Kern’s lumbered on until 1959, when it was closed for good. It would be torn down in the name of urban renewal in 1966.

Less than a year later, Detroiters were already sick of what the Detroit Free Press Magazine described as a “massive mudhole.” The Magazine commissioned 29-year-old Glen Small to develop a plan for the site. Small, a Cranbrook-based architect, developed a plan which he called “The Kern Block,” a play on the geography of building (a block) and its design (a series of stacked blocks). Obsessed with the idea of the “vertical city”, Small believed that the environmental concerns of an industrial city could be alleviated by bringing the activities of urban life off the street and into a towering building.

Small’s design featured a towering glass atrium lined with actual glass blocks. These blocks were to be filled with shops, restaurants, entertainment venues, hotels and apartments. It wasn’t meant to maximize the leasable value of every corner but, as Small described it, allow the visitor to see everything happening around them at all times as if they were standing on the corner of a busy city street.

Although the Free Press dedicated seven pages to Small’s idea, no developers took a bite at the proverbial apple. No developer ever sought to implement his ideas, and the land sat vacant until 2003 when One Campus Martius was opened on the block.
 
Eliel Saarinen’s unbuilt 1924 Detroit civic center complex

There’s not a single unrealized development that I ruminate about more than this one.
Since the reign of Mayor Hazen Pingree, City leaders had been pondering ways to improve access to the City’s industrial riverfront. The first major plan was announced in the summer of 1924, when famed architect Eliel Saarinen was tasked with developing a new Civic Center at the foot of Woodward Avenue on the banks of the Detroit River. The Civic Center plan included a grand domed memorial hall, with an auxiliary exhibition hall which would house an automotive museum, an esplanade titled “Victory Square” subway stations, underground parking decks, and a skyscraper (inspired by Saaranen’s famous but also unrealized Chicago Tribune Tower) which would house City and County operations.

It is hard to fathom just how different our riverfront would be today had Saarinen’s plan been fulfilled. If you’ve walked the grounds at Cranbrook you know that Saarinen’s knack for creating human-centered spaces is unparalleled. The imposing structures in Saarinen’s renderings almost certainly would have featured the same welcoming spaces that become his calling card.

Similar to the misfortunes that the Books brothers faced, the Great Depression also brought Saarinen’s expensive plan to a halt and never came to fruition. Throughout the years, he and his son, Eero, would serve as counsel for a new civic center design many times over, and a few of his ideas did make their way to the riverfront in some form or fashion.

Today, the Detroit Riverfront is widely considered one of the best in the world, but I must admit, every time I stand in Hart Plaza I daydream of Saarinen.

Jacob Jones is a historian and storyteller who has spent a decade leading tours of the city’s iconic landmarks. His tours of the Fisher Building, Guardian Building, and Packard Plant have attracted tens of thousands of guests from around the world and have been praised by the Detroit Free Press, the BBC, and the New York Times. When he’s not sharing history you can find him in a good local bar, perusing the stacks at the Detroit Public Library, and cheering on his beloved Detroit Lions.