In Praise of 5-over-1 Construction

An example of 5-over-1 construction: Titan Court, Eugene

(photography: Christian Columbres)

A recent spate of articles bemoaning the proliferation of 5-over-1 apartment buildings caught my attention. Outlets such as Bloomberg, Common Edge, Crosscut, and Curbed have all commented on the building type, the common thread being a reproach for their ubiquity, sameness, and inexpensive construction. Some of the critique rightfully points to the confluence of multiple factors—evolving building codes, a lack of developable land, rising construction costs, and an acute lack of affordable housing—that have given rise to countless examples of the type across the country. The same dynamics are in play here in Eugene, so we naturally have our share of 5-over-1 developments. 

I happen to believe there’s nothing wrong with the type in principle and accept its widespread use in Eugene. In my mind, achieving near-high-rise densities at a wood-frame price is a winning formula. 5-over-1 construction—so called because it frequently combines up to five floors of inexpensive wood-framed construction over a concrete podium—is popular primarily because it is a cost-effective means to build, especially here in timber-rich Oregon. Beyond its economy and ease of construction, the wood industry also touts the sustainability benefits of multi-story wood construction, most notably the fact that wood products sequester carbon and their processing emits fewer greenhouse gases than other building materials. 

The density associated with four, five, or even six floors of housing above a street-level commercial podium contributes toward the kind of vitality associated with good urbanism. More and more people, including many Baby Boomers like myself, are downsizing and opting for homes close to urban cores where diversity, public transit, and cultural amenities are immediately at hand, and where established zoning most often allows 5-over-1 construction. Building densely and compactly is also consistent with the growth management policies embodied by Oregon’s Urban Growth Boundary legislation and the Envision Eugene Comprehensive Plan. 

So why do some regard 5-over-1 projects as tantamount to a metastasizing cancer in our cities? Part of the reason is because they’re everywhere and yet too often look like they could be anywhere. It’s because the formula has been so consistently and prodigiously propagated. It’s also because their rise has been so sudden, an outcome of changing codes, improved economic fortunes, and pent-up demand in the wake of the Great Recession a decade ago. And it is true they sometimes tend towards being architecturally bland or downright ugly. 

As I said, I have no problem with their abundance. The type is meeting a current need in a manner the marketplace supports. I also take no issue with how similar many of the projects appear to be, as long as they are responsive to the specifics of their immediate context (culture, topography, orientation, views, other site features). In fact, I see no reason why any single 5-over-1 project should have to be an architectural standout. Every city needs “background” buildings that comprise the urban fabric, shape the public realm, and collectively define the character of a community. One reasonable expectation is that they make a positive contribution to the urban life of the neighborhoods in which they arise. 

In his book The Architecture of Happiness, Alain de Botton likewise expressed his appreciation for “graceful but predominantly unoriginal boxes:” 

“Though we tend to believe, in architecture as in literature, that an important work should be complicated, many appealing buildings are surprisingly simple, even repetitive in their design. The beguiling terraced houses of Bloomsbury or the apartment buildings of central Paris are assembled according to an unvarying and singularly basic pattern once laid down in forceful municipal codes. Over generations, these codes prevented architects from using their imaginations; they hand-cuffed them to a narrow palette of acceptable materials and forms, and, like the institution of marriage, restricted choice in the name of delivering the satisfactions of restraint. 

“That building codes have disappeared in many cities, and the modest ordered but satisfying edifices along with them, can be traced back to a perverse dogma which overtook the architectural profession in the Romantic period: a faith in a necessary connection between architectural greatness and originality. Over the nineteenth century, architects came to be rewarded according to the uniqueness of their work, so that constructing a new house or office in a familiar form grew no less contemptible than plagiarizing a novel or poem. 

“The emphasis on individual genius had the unintended effect of tearing apart the carefully woven fabric of cities. ‘A day never passes without hearing our architects called upon to be original and to invent a new style,’ observed John Ruskin in 1849, bewildered by the sudden loss of visual harmony. 

“Few architects have listened. A commission for a house or an office remains an opportunity to reconsider from first principles the design of a window frame or front door. But an architect intent on being different may in the end prove as troubling as an over-imaginative pilot or doctor . . . The architects who benefits us most may be those generous enough to lay aside their claims to genius in order to devote themselves to assembling graceful but predominantly unoriginal boxes. Architecture should have the confidence and the kindness to be a little boring.” 

5-over-1, Parisian style: Apartment buildings along the Rue de Rivoli 

(photo by Anyul Rivas from Los Teques, Venezuela [CC BY 2.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)]

Being “a little boring” favors simplicity and plainness, but at the same time we should build to last. With wood-framed construction this requires care. Excessive complexity (i.e. lots of joints and corners) is a recipe for water infiltration, so embracing simplicity and plainness can be strategic. As the project type matures, we should see associated breakthroughs in ever more effective yet inexpensive thermal and moisture barrier technologies. Ultimately, we may see an advancement of the typology such that while remaining “boring” the best projects also possess a pleasing materiality and visual texture, collectively shaping memorable places and streetscapes. 

Eugene may never be a high-rise city but it can aspire to be the best mid-rise city possible. We should welcome the 5-over-1 construction type and enlist its use toward promoting compact urban development, providing affordable housing for all income levels, and protecting, repairing, and enhancing neighborhood livability. They may be “stumpies,” “blandmarks,” “SketchUp contemporary,” or “McUrbanism” elsewhere, but here in Eugene they may be just right.