COMMENT OF THE DAY: HONORING THE SECRET FUNGAL AUTHOR OF THE HOUSTON SAGA 
“The toxic mold madness explains the entire history of our region. Think about it: the cannibal Karankawas on the Island of Doom, the ignominious and mysterious defeat of Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna, the mass hallucination that Buffalo Bayou was a navigable waterway on which a major port could be constructed, the race for space, the Candy Man, Mattress Mack and the subsequent mattress obsession, Robert Durst, the tree holocaust, and so on. We should name toxic mold as the official mold of the City of Houston.” [Memebag, commenting on What Floated and What Didn’t by the Halstead Apartments at N. Braeswood and 610] Illustration: Lulu
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Tag: Houston History
As Buffalo Bayou Partnership continues to seek out tour guides for the cavernous 1927 city water reservoir and maybe-future-art-space buried in Buffalo Bayou Park, University of Houston architecture grad Sheridan Staats sends over her design for turning the structure into a split-level public bath house, complete with pools, saunas, gardens, a bike trail connection, and a cafe. Renderings and schematics are showcased in Staats’s undergraduate thesis, which also dives into global bath house and infrastructure history and the case for reusing the site in a way that nods to its utilitarian aquatic past.
The kelley green box on the map above shows the cistern’s buried footprint on the north shore of Buffalo Bayou (in blue), just west of Sabine St. and south of Memorial Dr.; the darker green line passing through the southwest edge of the cistern shows a plan to run the bayou’s bike trail into the cistern and onto a suspended causeway:
Underwater Underground
Update, 3/24: BBP has updated the link to and language of the job posting; this story has been updated.
Wanted: Buffalo Bayou Partnership is seeking some college types folks to show people around the long-empty city drinking water reservoir near the intersection of Sabine St. and Memorial Dr., which the group also hopes to turn into a temporary art space some day. The “accidental cathedral” was only accessible by a set of hatches and 14-foot ladders back when BBP first examined it; a $1.2-million grant is being used to bring the 87,200-sq.-ft. underground space up to code for visitors.
The cistern, nicknamed after the 6th-century reservoir beneath Istanbul, lies just north of the Lee and Joe Jamail Skate Park beneath what will become a raised outdoor lawn intended for concerts and events at Buffalo Bayou Park. The 1927 reservoir was drained and decommissioned decades ago after it started leaking uncontrollably; the structure was planned for demolition and fill-in by the city around the time the park’s planners took an interest in the space, initially imagining uses like parking and mulch storage.
Work in the Underground
The majority of the pecan tree formerly growing at the northeast corner of 509 Louisiana St. has, as of yesterday afternoon, migrated to the far southeast corner of the adjacent lot at 517 Louisiana. A reader sends this snapshot peeking in on the scene from the lowercase alley behind the Lancaster Hotel (visible on the far left) toward the capitalized Alley Theatre in front (visible at the top of the shot, behind the small flock of green recycling bins). The reader disavows any claim to professional tree expertise, but notes that “the rotting story may have some validity.” (It remains to be seen whether the misty figure of Chief Bowl will follow the logs, or remain rooted to their former home.)
Piecing Out Downtown
The former home of the House of Pain’s developer is shown above in a world of hurt this morning, as a demo crew tackles the longtime residence of Oilers-turned-Titans owner K.S. “Bud” Adams Jr. at 3218 Del Monte Dr. in River Oaks. The Oklahoma-bred oil baron moved into the 6,604 sq.-ft. house with his wife in 1954; having survived his wife, Adams died alone at his desk in the house at age 90, in October of 2013Â — just days after the death of Bum Philips, the glory-days Oilers coach Adams hired and fired.
The demo permit for the building was issued on the 16th. According to the photographer, the shutters pictured above and below were long the same Columbia blue once donned by Houston fans:
Final Takedown
TREE PROFESSIONALS: PECAN AT 509 LOUISIANA ST. WOULD HAVE JUST DIED ANYWAY 
The pecan tree formerly behind the former Longhorn Cafe on Louisiana St. is down at last, following the 100-plus-year-old buildings at 509 and 517 Louisiana into that Great Big Preservation District in the Sky. Nancy Sarnoff of the Houston Chronicle reports that 2 arborists were called in to examine the tree, and pronounced it dead-or-close-enough: Lauren Lusk Willis, a member of the family that owns the next-door Lancaster Hotel, told the Chronicle that a lightning strike had damaged the tree, and that its core was rotting. Willis said that the pecan “would not likely have survived the leveling of the lot for any construction,” and that “ultimately, it wouldn’t have survived regardless.” The tree, haunted by a both-Sam-and-city-of Houston ghost story, was long visible only to those who entered 509 Louisiana’s hidden courtyard, until the pecan’s 2001 outing by the demo of the Rice Rittenhouse parking garage; it went back into hiding by the end of 2003 with the help of 33-story Calpine Center. [Houston Chronicle; previously on Swamplot] Photo of the pecan tree, following demolition of 509 Louisiana St.: KineticD
Houstorian James Glassman sends this photo of a shiny new blue tile street sign along a Westheimer Rd. curb just east of Kirby Dr., where months of road and sidewalk construction is wrapping up. The fresh mosaic is in the style of those installed around Houston in the 1920s and into the 1950s before the rise of auto traffic made foot-level street markers less practical than eye-level signage.Â
The new sign doesn’t yet appear on the online map maintained by Joey Sanchez of the Blue Tile Project, which documents the locations of the original tile markers, though Sanchez noted the sign this morning on the project’s Twitter feed:
Westheimer Blues
CELEBRATING LAURA DAY, AND THE CON THAT MADE THE CITY 
On this day in 1837 — according to Houstorian, Houston’s “loudest preservation group” — the packet steamer Laura shoved its way up Buffalo Bayou through sand bars and tortuous snags to Allen’s Landing in what is now Downtown Houston. The trip proved publicly for the first time that such a voyage was actually possible, though the Allen Brothers had already been promising as much to investors for months in their “highly exaggerated” advertisements of the new town. Houstorian teamed up with the Bayou Preservation Association last night to celebrate the grand con’s success; the now-annual Laura Day event took place this year at Public Services Wine & Whisky, housed in the 1884 Cotton Exchange Building at the corner of Travis and Franklin — just a few blocks west of the Laura’s purported landing site at the foot of Main St. [Houstorian] Historic photo of the steamship Laura: Houstorian
A GLIMPSE OF THE HIDDEN PECAN AT 509 LOUISIANA ST., NOW THAT THE BUILDING IS OUT OF THE WAY 
While much of the 1906 structure that formerly stood at 509 Louisiana St. was still on site as of early afternoon yesterday, the pieces had mostly been rearranged. A couple of excavators can be seen picking them over in this shot sent in by a reader. The once-secret pecan tree is also hanging out in the open as it waits for the axe — look for the branches peeking out around the corner of the Calpine Center parking garage entrance, on the left edge of the shot. [Previously on Swamplot] Photo: Jack Miller via Swamplot inbox
517 Louisiana St. is down — the former haunt of the Longhorn Cafe (509 Louisiana, to the right of the hole in the above photo) was still standing as of 2 PM this afternoon, along with the pecan tree in its once-secret courtyard. Both have permits lined up to follow 517 into the Great Beyond, to make room for surface parking on the block.
The hidden pecan tree is purported to harbor a ghost, rooted deep in some Republic of Texas history:
Louisiana St. Demolitions
COMMENT OF THE DAY: ARCHIVING HOUSTON’S PAST FOR FUTURE AFFECTATION 
“I am going to put together a coffee table book called ‘When Houston Sucked’ that will document Houston’s former lack of glory. There will be photos of a half-empty Town and Country Mall . . . a picture of the 10k running route map in the old downtown YMCA that warned women not to run on the bayou trail under Memorial Drive at night . . . a map showing the work of serial killers and arsonists in the Heights . . . and lots of pictures of strip malls and garden-style apartment complexes. All the yuppies, hipsters, and millenials need to understand that Houston used to really suck, so they can feel guilty about the ugliness we lose every day . . .” [Old School, commenting on Paradise Lost on Hempstead Rd.]
Time to bid adieu to 2 more of downtown’s oldest buildings: readers sent both sky-high and excavator-side photos of yesterday’s teardown work at 517 Louisiana St., and 509 is permitted to follow). According to the building’s owners, the next-door Lancaster Hotel’s parking crunch is the reason the 2 1906 Theater District neighbors will meet their flattened fates, along with a long-hidden pecan tree that shades a once-secret courtyard at 509. Taking their place: a surface lot for 50 cars — and, maybe, one day, an expansion to the hotel.
517’s transformation to empty space was complete by the end of the day yesterday:
Coming Down in Downtown
The Little White Church that fled the Marks LH7 Ranch in 2012 when the land was sold to developers appears to be finally settling in at the new digs — a reader sends this photo looking west from Barker Clodine Rd., on the back side of the property of Iglesia Sobre La Roca where the building scooted to. The Little White Church is now a few shades whiter thanks to a new coat of paint, and appears to have gotten a big brown porch for Christmas. Eastgate Ministries moved out of the building to a country club in Katy in early 2014, after 15 years of using the building.
Meanwhile, back at the Marks LH7 Ranch (just across a long driveway to the south of the Church’s new home, and west along Kingsland Blvd.): the Vue Kingsland Apartments, the Aldeia West Apartments, and the Ryan Homes at Arcadia have all risen on the former state archaeological landmark, where a ranch-themed development was once promised.
Kingsland Churches
COMMENT OF THE DAY: REMEMBERING THE WONDERFUL LIFE IN THE HEIGHTS 
“Back when it was a drugstore, I remember buying sodas from George Bailey when he worked there. His boss Mr. Gower ’bout ripped his damn ear off one time when he almost poisoned a kid. Old man Potter came in with his cheap housing, building all these stucco Mcmansions. Things haven’t been the same since.” [Violet, commenting on Oolala, Heights Candy Bar Calling It Quits on Studewood Storefronts] Photo: Heights Candy Bar
Some zoomy conceptual renderings of the University of Texas’s coming Houston campus, centered on the largely undeveloped intersection of Buffalo Spdwy. and Willowbend Blvd., made their debut at last month’s Board of Regents meeting, where the intended purchase of land for the project was announced. Buffalo Spdwy. gently winds through the drawings of the new campus to a track and several baseball diamonds along Holmes Rd. (which runs horizontally across the top of the image above).
Although the images are only “concepts”, the pictures do provide a sense of how the campus might unfold: For example, that linear water feature shown at the center of the campus aligns with an existing drainage ditch on the property, and the 3 long, low structures in the foreground are good candidates for parking garages, which will be needed regardless of the new institution’s yet-to-be-decided purpose.
Existing residential communities and industrial parks are here rendered as sparsely-treed fields — the boundary of the land slated for purchase by UT currently houses several apartment complexes on the north side and the Orkin Industrial Surplus facility to the south.
But another conceptual rendering (this one looking northwest across Holmes Rd. towards the distant Williams Tower) shows the campus in place amongst some of its eclectic neighbors:
Welcome to the neighborhood
