Some thoughts on the General Theological Seminary

Volume One, Issue 23, February 23 - March 1, 2007

Talking Point

By David Ferguson

During the course of the debate on the General Theological Seminary’s proposed Ninth Ave. tower, Dean Ward Ewing argued that, without the Seminary, there would be no Chelsea Historic District.

No question, the Seminary is an integral part. In the past G.T.S. even provided mortgage assistance to a few of its neighbors. It proved a wise investment: For decades neighbors, along with hundreds of other Chelsea residents, have made sustained, demanding and critical contributions to the ambiance from which the Seminary has benefited.

We hear the Chelsea Plan has cost G.T.S. $70 million in development rights. While that me be true on the face of it, I submit that those Chelsea-ites who have committed much of their lives to neighborhood preservation made it possible for G.T.S. to realize more value from a 75-foot structure than it would have from more permissive height limits. Neighbors responsible for the Chelsea Plan have struggled for more than half a century to preserve and enhance this community, stopping the airport and creating parks and playgrounds in the process.

There has to be a way to meet the Seminary’s needs without allowing this developer to undermine the very ambiance he is selling. Sam Waterston’s New York Times Op-Ed (12/18/05), calls those opposing the G.T.S. plan “fixated”. Right. We’re fixated on preserving our neighborhood. Some examples of past efforts include:

• In the 1950s, the community fought proposals to demolish the blocks between Ninth and Tenth Avenues from 21st to 23rd St., and a 40-story proposal across from Clement Clark Moore Park

• A park was realized that took the block association seven years to create and decades to preserve and maintain, half a block from G.T.S. and named for its founder

• The P.S. 11 Playground Committee worked for years to provide a playground, the first in its 50-year history.

• In 1970, Chelsea faced the very real prospect of an airport at the foot of 22nd St., where Chelsea Piers now prospers. Yes, an airport for 19-passenger Short Take-Off and Landing planes (STOL) weighing 200,000 pounds, with a 2,000-foot runway to be constructed in the river using 10 Liberty ships as pontoons. American Airlines, with FAA funding, studied its feasibility — a plane a minute during rush hour. Boeing was developing jet STOLplanes. This was only an interim facility. Had it worked, it would have been expanded, as Stuart Levin pointed out in Space/Aeronautics magazine: “FAA’s normal underlying philosophy is to start small, with an austere service, grow bigger, getting everyone’s feet wet and gaining community acceptance without a premature commitment.”

Jacqueline Schwartzman, West 300 Block Association president, was chair of Chelsea Against the STOLport. Ray Guenter, Democratic District Leader, and I were co-vice chairmen. In nine months, working seven days a week we beat City Hall, Washington and the aerospace industry. We then fought off a two-aircraft-carrier STOLport. One FAA official, unable to understand our objections, said planes would sound “like heavy angels whirring overhead.” Had the community not defeated this airport, “heavy angels” would now punctuate the Seminary’s quiet studies. A hard sell for luxury condos.

• One neighbor, Bob Trentlyon, along with many others, also fixated for years on reclaiming the riverfront, securing that part of Chelsea ambiance for all New Yorkers.

It is sad that Sherrill Hall has deteriorated into a building everyone loves to hate, though I confess crossing the street to walk under its birch trees. Still, there must have been enthusiasm 40-some years ago when architects presented their plan, flat roof and all. Apparently it seemed a good idea at the time. Chelsea Court, built long before the Chelsea Plan and occupying only a third of the block, has been cited as a precedent for G.T.S.’s new Ninth Ave. tower. Should this proposed building’s aesthetic and/or operational impact turn out not to be as advertised, and if developers, inspired by use of the Chelsea Court precedent, successfully cite this new structure as precedent for variances, it will be too late to repair that damage.

Dean Ewing says the Seminary is the Historic District’s anchor. For many, this plan looks more like anchors away, hardly the outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace. Anonymous Dark Age artisans, peasants and those few with wealth spent centuries raising up great cathedrals. Yet, in the richest city in one of the, reportedly, most religiously observant and richest nations in the world, we’re told this Seminary must bend its cloistered knee to the architects of conspicuous consumption to finance delayed maintenance repairs, upgrade facilities and avoid what the Seminary insists would force its departure. Not exactly the message I’ve heard for 20 years at Holy Apostles.

In the architect’s model, our neighborhood is an assemblage of cubic volumes in the middle of which sits the Historic District like an air-park bounded by London Terrace, Fulton Houses and Chelsea Court, and facing a tsunami of new construction to the west. Actually, it’s a place to see what’s left of the horizon in a neighborhood chronically short of parks. Balsam models can’t possibly indicate the destructive impact this structure would have upon the District’s ability to maintain a semblance of historical continuity, a place to get our bearings in the swirl and glitz that threatens to overwhelm our sense of place in time. Overwhelming the integrity of this remnant of our past to satisfy present objectives impoverishes the future in predictable ways.

G.T.S.’s tower has been skillfully presented as a fait accompli, crafted to preempt community objections while threatening dire consequences if the plan’s rejected, and including belated, unsubstantiated claims that acceptance would net affordable housing. This hardly reflects a reciprocal relationship with the community.

Unfortunately, the revised design is no comfort. “Vertical buttress-like elements” will not provide “a further reference to the historic fabric of the block.” Brick strips intended to “contextualize” the box would bring a Rockefeller Center style to the middle of the Historic District, resulting in a prominent, intrusive, confusing monolith — more like the District’s tombstone — casting its shadow over The Close by day and a wall of light by night, and reducing the historic authenticity to something like a theme park, as would a glimpse of the bell tower through the unadorned modernity of the tunnel framing it, even as it provides The Close with an unbuffered experience of Ninth Ave. traffic. So much for serenity.

The Seminary’s threatening to leave, taking along with its good works and current progressive social agenda, is unlikely to engender community support. The Seminary’s neighbors weren’t responsible for the design, construction or maintenance of Sherrill Hall or the upkeep of their other buildings. Why, then, should we now be wracked with guilt for not supporting a variance for a real estate deal that would forever compromise the historic integrity we worked so long and hard to preserve?

Despite this conflict, it is my hope that we can still come together on a mutual objective, not to construct a monster but to save the Seminary without undermining the Historic District.

It would take work, imagination and, yes, faith. Testimony from Trinity Church at the recent C.B. 4 meeting brought to mind a suggestion of a fellow parishioner: Why shouldn’t G.T.S. take over development of its property, helped by the real estate expertise of Trinity Church? Disadvantageous institutional financial arrangements notwithstanding, G.T.S. remains the first such facility of the Episcopal Church in America. Perhaps some fellow Episcopalians may find this historic institution important enough to contribute to its preservation sans luxury tower.

How much of the proposed height is due to the developer’s need to make a profit? Without that profit margin, the potential return from stores and apartments in a 75-foot building — even allowing for the library — would be significant. Then, just maybe — with the support of those of us who live here, and of those in surrounding areas whose lives and property are measurably enhanced, and with some support from the larger community that also benefits from the city’s having such an amenity — then maybe some way might still be found to address all of our needs.

Community-wide participation in such a unique partnership might also open governmental and foundation doors. The effectiveness of such support might be enhanced by matching funds. If G.T.S. comes up with a plan acceptable to the community, I pledge $10,000 to be matched by other donors to start a fund to repair deferred maintenance. While a large part of my bucket, I understand it’s a drop in yours. But cooperation on a building plan more in keeping with the scale and character of the Historic District might enrich us all with a benefit at least as valuable as the treasured architectural harmony it preserves.

David Ferguson has lived in Chelsea for 50 years. He is vice president of the Croton Watershed Clean Water Coalition, comprising 50 environmental, housing, community and religious groups in NYC, Putnam and Westchester counties working since 1997 to protect the city’s water supply; the Episcopal Diocese of New York is a member group. He is alsoa founding board member of the HDFC Council, a limited equity co-op advocacy group, as well as poet, playwright and composer.