Monday, August 31, 2009

Union Station and me, Chapter III











"Roy, this place ain't gonna make it!"

"Huh, what, sputter, sputter...Are you talking about the station?" I asked, reviving from a marvelous, light-induced reverie unfolding before my very eyes outside the station.

"Yes, I am talking about Union Station."

The speaker was Lloyd Dillinger, the man who had worked at Union Station since the 1960's, was hired and laid off, and hired again several times from and to essentially the same job: All 'round technical guy and possessor of all knowledge of the physical facilities of the station. Not a part of his job description but he is also one of the truly nicest and warmest human beings a person could meet. Lloyd was a tremendous help in my photo documentation.

"Well, think about it," he continued. "If you take the projected budget for operations of around $7~$9 million dollars a year, it would take about 2500 paying visitors 364 days a year, mostly through Science City; the Extreme Screen and the City Dome would have to help (My note: the planetarium was called the City Dome when it opened). That would just about make the station break even. It ain't gonna happen. It just won't have that kind of crowd."

I will admit that up to that point I had not been thinking about the money. I was just grooving on the incredible images that I had seen all those years through the viewfinder, and with luck, that I was also recording them-on FILM, BTW. Digital photography was still in the infant stage and did not allow high enough resolution for what I knew some of the images would be used. 

As I thought more about it, I saw that Lloyd was right.

Oh, it all sounded so convincing: Under the direction of David Ucko, Science City was to be a world class, immersive science learning experience for children. There would be no text blocks explaining how to operate the various "experiments," that task left to costumed interactors who would respond to questions posed by visitors. People would be lined up for Science City . 

David Ucko was proposing a method of learning that educators sometimes call heuristic, or self-discovery. Cliff Edom, my major graduate professor at the University of Missouri, Columbia, , employed this technique. Darn near drove us all crazy. But at the outcome, we all "got it" because we were, in classic heuristic fashion, truly immersed in a wide-ranging photojournalism adventure, and, we had a guide. 

At Union Station, the "guides" or interactors, were laid off when it became apparent that 30,000 square feet of Science City was not going to support 850,000 square feet of an old train terminal.

I had my own self-discovery about Science City. My daughters, their husbands, my wife and I were touring the recently opened station in 1999. As we went along, it was becoming obvious that no one in our group could exactly figure out some of the exhibits, or as David Ucko called them, "adventures" or "immersions." 

Those of you who know me realize that I am not, ahem, the sharpest roll of film in the bag. My wife and daughters went to college, and unlike my own checked, higher learning resume, their report cards mostly showed  A's. One son-in-law is an engineer, the other an architect. I knew that Science City was in real trouble when all five were scratching their heads in bewilderment at some of the the activities that were meant for a fourth grader. 

I won't demonize David Ucko. He was always kind and gracious to me. However, blame lies where it will, and if David was ultimately responsible for what Science City became, then we have only him to blame. I will add that the normal budget for such an undertaking at that time was $500 a square foot. Science City was to come in at $300 a square foot. So yes, there were budget restraints, even at a quarter billion dollar price tag. 

Were we lied to on purpose by members of the bi state commission, et al? How about the media? Where were they when those on the inside of the project realized that (1) Science City was not going to be a world class facility and (2) that it would not support the huge Union Station complex? 

It depends upon how one defines a lie: If not telling the entire truth is a lie, then we were told those two big ones. If in this case the end justified the means, was it OK?... you decide.

And the reason for the omission of those two truths?

It began to dawn early on among the powers that be that there were serious financial problems coming, given the Science City plan, as surely as tornadoes come to Kansas. The timing was...interesting. It was about this period when the "historic bi state tax initiative" was to be voted on. Should the public really be told the awful truth? If so, then the tax might not pass and therefore the station might this time surely face destruction.

We all know what happened...It was saved, at a price to be paid later.

I suppose because of my life experiences and maybe the way I am hard-wired, I tend to cut people a lot of slack. What the heck, we are all human, even though some of us, sometimes, don't act like it. We all make mistakes.

Bear in mind that no one-no one-had attempted what was being done with Union Station, at least not on such a grand scale.The closest project of any comparable size was Cincinnati Union Terminal, and it was not in the awful condition of Union Station. Cincinnati required a "mere" $30 million to restore, VS $250+ million for KC's landmark. (Note: the total of $250 million includes the $118 million raised in sales tax; the remainder was from corporate, private and foundation sources). The Cincy terminal is 550,000 square feet, about 2/3 the size of our station. 

The largest train station still standing in America, Grand Central Terminal in NYC, was restored a few years after USKC at a cost of $300 million, but it remains an active railroad center; hundreds of Amtrak and commuter trains pass through daily. And, of course, GCT is in NEW YORK CITY, center of the universe for most folks. I still contend that if our Union Station were in NYC, Chicago or LA, people would be lined up around the block just to look inside. 

Next time: The David and Andy dance, or, what color is the sky and what time is it really?

Notes on the photos:

Lloyd Dillinger points out what is generally assumed to be a mark from a bullet fired during the Union Station massacre June 17, 1933. The KC Star disputed the long-held belief that the pock marks near the station's east doors were in fact made by bullets. The newspaper hired an expert to recreate the circumstances as nearly as possible and concluded that the holes could not have been made by bullets. Make up your own mind...

Lloyd Dillinger posed for this photo in the North Waiting Room, just before the inside restoration began. I shot it on 4x5 in color but later changed it to B&W because I like it better, 

The late Walter Cronkite, shown by himself, and with David Ucko, and others, went on a hard hat tour of the station, especially for the revered old newscaster in 1999. Cronkite was a big supporter of Union Station and the restoration, even contributing his celebrity to a TV commercial in favor of the bi state tax.

Reflections of the upper west wall of the North Waiting Room collide with the interior scaffolding and the south window. Shot from the old Midway roof.

Workers remove roofing in early 1995.

One of my favorite images: the brass doors shot with a panoramic camera.




Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Union Station and me





To talk about the restoration of Union Station Kansas City without mentioning Andy Scott is like speaking of the 1960's without invoking the name of Bob Dylan.

Andy Scott was  part-time chief of staff for Kansas City Mayor (now congressman) Emanuel Cleaver in 1993. It was Scott who first suggested to Cleaver that the city back down on demands for a multi-million-dollar suit settlement with Trizek development corporation. Within a year of this decision, the rebirth of the station was, pardon the pun, on track. 

As head of the Union Station Assistance Corporation, Andy was not quite a czar I suppose, but in a more or less public project he was perhaps the closest thing to being one. Virtually all strategic decisions had to go through him, and many smaller ones as well. And he was the singular most important person responsible for saving many of the historic details of the station. During his watch, he gained weight, his hair thinned, and he became less and less patient with naysayers and obstructionists to the restoration. From where I was standing, this seemed a pretty natural response for someone under such pressure: pressure from the public, which had approved an "Historic bi-state tax initiative," a mantram adopted by all; pressure from lots of chiefs and lesser Indians in the form of architects, contractors, engineers; pressure from politicians who were scrambling to take credit for the fixing of the station; and pressure from the media, watching every move the USAC made with the $118 million raised in sales taxes to help pay for it. 

From the very first, I deeply appreciated that Andy gave me the opportunity to chronicle the amazing project which brought back from the near-dead this historic site, second-largest train station in America.

That is not to say we did not have our differences, Andy and I. But more about that later...

Oh, and just for the record, funding from corporations, foundations and individuals raised the restoration total to $260 million-a quarter of a billion dollars. Back then that was a lot of money...

There were, interestingly, a few photographers, all acquaintances, who were miffed at the fact that I was doing the documentation of the station, not them. 

One said that I had "Knocked him out of $50,000 worth of commercial work" by shooting for almost free. The president of the Kansas City Art Institute sneered that all of my Union Station photos at a gallery show after the restoration "Were well-printed, even the bad ones."  

She didn't get it.

The photos never were about me, and never were about photography, really. They were all about the Union Station. As I am fond of saying, photographs have a funny way of becoming awfully important later. It was, and remains, my philosophy that even though a given photograph was not necessarily the best in terms of creativity or composition, because it was an historic moment in the history of the station, it was an important image. I am, at heart, a photojournalist, a documentary photographer. Besides the fact that IMHO, this is the most valid form of photography, the fact that I was a graduate assistant to Cliff Edom, the man who showed Life Magazine how to do it, was a big factor in the way I see photographs.

From side comments the KCAI pres made, it indicated to me that she really wanted to do the restoration photography herself. How she could have spent the 14,000 hours that I did and still run the art institute I never could figure out...

The first two shots in this blog are of Andy the man himself in September, 1994. The blue window is a contemporary photo, and the guy with the saw was shot in early 1998 on C or Concourse Level, where the Bank of America exhibit gallery is now located.

Next time: The Big Two Lies and naive little me...

Sunday, August 9, 2009

Union Station and me


It was a rather warm November 10, 1999, that Union Station Kansas City reopened its doors to an enthusiastic public after more than a decade of abandonment and neglect. If that sounds as if I am talking about a person not a building, then you are getting the proper notion. Because Union Station is very personal to me, and I know it is very personal to many others. The difference between the "others" and me is that because I was the restoration photographer I saw and experienced things that literally no one else did, save for maybe an assistant or two. Along the way I will include a tiny fraction of the more than 70,000 images I created over nearly a six year period.  

This fall will be the tenth anniversary of that opening day and so it seems appropriate for me to relate to you, dear readers, this unique episode in my life and by extension, in the life of Kansas City. You all helped pay for the restoration. Therefore, I feel obliged to share with you how I saw this re-creation from what I most humbly call a privileged vantage point.

My involvement began with an assignment for the Kansas City Business Journal sometime in September, 1994. My task was to make an environmental portrait of Andy Scott (or as some now call him, Andy The First-more about that later) inside the station. That was my first visit to the building since I left from there on an Amtrak train circa 1980. 

On the day of the Andy shoot, strong shafts of sunlight artfully knifed across the empty, dank space formerly called the North Waiting Room, now called Festival Plaza. Frankly, I never have gotten used to calling it that. But I digress...

As I shot, Andy and I fell into an extended and excited conversation about the future of the station, and how it might all come together, our voices echoing off the marble and granite in the otherwise deserted station. At length, we came 'round to the possibility of my documenting the entire restoration process.

"Well Andy, " I asked, "how many pictures are we talking here?"

"Oh, maybe a trip to the station once or twice a week. Maybe four or five rolls a month. How much would you charge for that?"

Realizing that this was literally a once in a lifetime opportunity, I quickly replied "Heck, for the chance to photograph the reawakening of this giant, (trying to make what I hoped was a grand, sweeping gesture with my hand) I will do it for free!"

Andy thought that sounded pretty good and we had a gentleman's agreement. 

LIttle did I know then how that one conversation would impact my life, professionally, personally, financially and physically. And not all in a good way

To be continued...