Our view: Give old jail a final gasp |
| The old jail building is historic, but it's also a burden on taxpayers. This landmark lockup needs a savior ― and a deadline. Don't deny the old jail's place in history. Built 86 years ago, the five stories of granite and strength are part of Duluth's downtown Civic Center, placed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1986. The cluster of government buildings was designed by celebrated American architect Daniel Burnham, the same Daniel Burnham who popularized neoclassical architecture in the early 20th century with his "White City," the centerpiece of the 1892 World's Fair in Chicago. Duluth's Civic Center remains one of Minnesota's premier examples of America's City Beautiful Movement of the early 1900s. But don't ignore the old jail's sorry state, either. The building was mostly abandoned in 1995 after the Minnesota Department of Corrections issued stringent new standards for lockups. The old jail couldn't hope to comply. The roof is now known to leak. Chunks of exterior facade have fallen off (thankfully, without hitting anyone in the head). The only stairway inside the building is too narrow to meet code. The elevator is too small to be considered legal. Plumbing and electrical systems are outdated. Upper floors are so weak they can't even be used to store boxes of documents and other materials. And, perhaps most damning of all, the decorative, steel-gray exterior of the building is held together, largely, by the jail cells and the bars that are inside. The jail was built as a jail. If the bars and cells were removed as part of a renovation for a new use, the building's structural integrity ―its ability to stand up ― could be jeopardized. And don't discount St. Louis County's efforts to breathe new life into the jail. At least eight times since 1987 ― including 1999's 50-page "Saint Louis County Jail Reuse Study" ― the county researched new ways to use the building. As apartments, a museum, law offices, document storage, even as a bed-and-breakfast. Each venture halted at the same financial reality: The cost of renovating was at least three times the cost of building new. The dollar figure attached to fixing up the jail stands now at anywhere from $2.5 million to $10 million. Developers haven't come running. They "could never get a return on their investment, so there's no payback," Duluth real estate developer Lance Reasor told the News Tribune in March after taking a tour and deciding that saving the jail building was "doable" but far too costly for him. And for others, too, apparently. The jail needs a savior with deep pockets and a good idea. But does such a person exist? No one stepped forward in January 2004 when the county first announced it had little choice but to tear down its money pit. No one stepped forward four months later, when the jail was declared one of the state's "Ten Most Endangered Historic Properties," a listing put out annually by the Preservation Alliance of Minnesota to attract statewide, and sometimes national, attention to the plight of historic structures and sites. The hope is that attention translates into salvation. "It is true that finding a viable new use for a jail is not easy, but it can be done," Duluth native Richard Moe, president of the National Trust for Historic Preservation, argued in a commentary in the News Tribune six days ago. He offered two examples: The former city jail in Dallas, which now houses legal offices, and the Charles Street Jail in Boston, which now operates as a luxury hotel. But for every success, how many long-vacant Lincoln Hotels are there? How many Duluth Armories? St. Louis County taxpayers deserve a deadline. They're paying $2,000 every month to periodically inspect the building, to clean up debris around it, to make basic repairs that ensure the safety of passersby, for liability insurance and for other expenses. "You can't just pretend it's not there," St. Louis County Property Manager Tony Mancuso told the News Tribune editorial page last week. It's not a lot of money, but with government, and everyone else, scraping for every dollar in a miserable economy, even $2,000 a month can add up quickly. Moe and others argue that more effort could be made to find a nonprofit or other entity to assume responsibility for the building and save it. County Commissioner Keith Nelson said he'll go as far as offering it to Duluth for $1. It's an offer the city can refuse, but the gesture is well-placed ― as long as it's not an open-ended gesture. Six months. For the next six months, the county, preservationists and anyone with an e-mail account can spread the word ― across Minnesota and from coast to coast. The jail is available. Free. Or nearly free. As long as it's saved. But then that's it. Come Nov. 3, if no one still hasn't stepped forward, take photographs to document the jail existed, follow standards set by the Historic American Building Survey to record its significance, and save as much of its decorative stone and other materials as can be reused. Then grant the demolition permit. And turn off the $2,000-a-month spigot from taxpayers. |