Debate over International House highlights what’s wrong with preservation in Philly

  On Thursday, a Philadelphia Historical Commission subcommittee is expected to recommend the designation of International House, the brutalist-style residence hall that stands as a monument to the idealism of the ’60s. This should be a big deal because brutalism is probably the most misunderstood and — let’s be honest — reviled architectural style in America.

But don’t expect the honor to protect the former student dormitory at 37th and Chestnut from the city’s powerful real estate interests. The Historical Commission and its staff are already having discussions with the developers over how to carve up the building.

It’s amazing that the designation of International House has gotten even this far. Docomomo’s Philadelphia chapter and the University City Historical Society submitted the paperwork to list the Bower & Fradley design on the city’s historic register more than a year ago. The application made an unusually slow crawl through the approval process and then, just as the commission was approaching a decision, the 14-story residence hall was sold to a pair of developers, CSC Coliving and Alterra. While they did not try to prevent the designation, they made it plain that they expected a free hand to ensure their investment yielded a nice profit. Now we know exactly how they intend to treat their historic nuisance. At last month’s meeting of the Historic Commission’s architectural committee, Alterra’s Leo Addimando unveiled a design by ALMA Architecture that would virtually entomb International House inside a contemporary addition. On the north side, the developers would slam a 16-story tower up against the existing facade, obscuring the big square windows and obliterating the sculptural outcroppings that make International House such an interesting work of architecture.

On the south side, facing Chestnut Street, they would fill in the shady public garden with a large retail box. All that would be left would be a partial view of the front facade — the equivalent of someone being buried up to their chest in beach sand.

The architectural committee, to its credit, rejected the concept. But that doesn’t mean Alterra’s plan is dead. Addimando told me that he intends to appeal on Dec. 11 to the full commission, which is generally less fussy about design integrity. Since Historical Commission staffers have already given the proposal a thumbs up in a written evaluation, the odds are high that this landmark work of architecture will be chopped up for parts.