The Standard, a student housing project by Landmark Properties (my photo). Note the absence of active storefronts fronting the street.
I first wrote about
the potential redevelopment of the former PeaceHealth University District campus back in
March. At the time, PeaceHealth had just listed the 12.5-acre property, and
speculation about its future remained wide open. I allowed myself to imagine a
scenario in which the site could evolve into a true civic asset: a place that
stitched together the University of Oregon campus and the West University
neighborhood with a mix of housing, public space, and services responsive to
Eugene’s particular needs. That vision reflected cautious optimism, a
recognition that the opportunity was rare and worth aspiring toward, even if
the odds seemed long.
Now, just a few
months later, we have breaking news. According to Eugene Weekly, PeaceHealth appears to have found a suitor. Landmark Properties, a
national student housing developer based in Georgia, responded to the RFP and
signaled its intent to move quickly. Landmark reportedly plans to secure
demolition and construction permits as soon as February.(1) While
the sale hasn’t closed, the courtship between PeaceHealth and Landmark looks
serious.
For those familiar
with Landmark’s presence in Eugene, the news doesn’t come as a shock. The
company recently completed The Standard, a massive luxury student housing complex on
Broadway near the United States Courthouse. Like many of its peers across the
country, Landmark focuses on high-end amenities, private leases, and sealed-off
designs that prioritize interior lifestyle branding over meaningful engagement
with the public realm. Retail spaces, welcoming sidewalks, or other
contributions to the streetscape rarely figure into their formula. These are
not buildings designed to support the long-term life of a city. They’re
financial instruments, meant to be operated for profit, traded, and flipped.
The arrival of
luxury student housing brings short-term gains: an expanded tax base, temporary
construction jobs, and more beds for students. But it also introduces long-term
tensions. Wide, blank walls and missing storefronts dampen street activity.
Affordability erodes as land values rise and buildings target premium rents.
Architectural cohesion frays, with these newer developments often ignoring
context or heritage. Most crucially, these buildings age poorly.
The Hayward Student Living complex (aka 13th and Olive) as viewed along Willamette Street (Google Street view). Originally developed by Capstone Collegiate Communities and now owned by Timberline Real Estate Ventures, the roundly criticized development did not provide the initially promised street-level retail storefronts when completed in 2014.
To be clear, more student housing isn’t inherently a bad thing. Adding to
the housing stock—at any level—can help ease market pressures and create more
breathing room overall. That said, what gets built matters. Buildings with rigid floor plans aimed at a narrow demographic can't easily evolve into more inclusive or diverse housing over time. The problem isn't that new high-end student housing projects are being built; it's that they're being built in a way that limits future use and contributes little to the larger civic ecosystem.
The PeaceHealth site
deserves better. Its scale alone makes it consequential, but so does its
location. Once a hub for community health services, the University District campus
holds an institutional memory that still resonates with many residents.
Redeveloping the land as another cloistered enclave of high-end student housing
would erase that legacy and squander a rare chance to create something that
serves broader community needs.
The City of Eugene
retains some, albeit limited, leverage. Projects of this scale must undergo Site Review, as laid out in
Eugene Code sections 9.8430 through 9.8450. This process requires developers to
demonstrate how their proposals address circulation, building orientation,
landscaping, and compatibility with surrounding uses. While not a cure-all,
Site Review creates a channel for public and staff scrutiny. These requirements
don’t block development outright, but they do insert friction—opportunities for
people to ask questions and raise concerns.
Even so, the
outcomes we’ve seen from recent luxury student housing projects raise valid
doubts. Why hasn’t Site Review resulted in more pedestrian-friendly or
contextually responsive buildings? Why does so much of it feel like a
formality? In practice, Site Review often falls under the “clear and objective”
track mandated for housing projects. If a developer checks the right
boxes—height, setbacks, open space—the City has little discretion to say no or
ask for something better. Unless a developer requests an adjustment or
variance, public hearings typically don’t happen. Staff, constrained by
deadlines and legal obligations, rarely have room to push back. The process
becomes paper-driven, not vision-driven. Fundamentally, the City of Eugene’s
current planning tools aren’t built to navigate this scale of development.
The Standard effectively presents its backside across 8th Avenue to the Wayne L. Morse United States Courthouse. (2)
Meanwhile, Eugene
continues to absorb wave after wave of high-end student housing. New projects
keep entering the pipeline, even as recently completed buildings each add
hundreds of new beds. With Landmark now looking to redevelop one of the city’s
most significant properties, it’s worth asking how long this model can persist.
The market for luxury student apartments isn’t infinite. At some point, supply
will outpace demand in this very specific market niche. When that happens, vacancies will rise, rents will stagnate,
and investor interest will cool. Maintenance slips,
services get cut, and ownership turns over. The downward spiral is easy to
recognize and hard to reverse.
Buildings designed to turn a quick profit rarely transition well to long-term community assets. And as I mentioned above, there are challenges converting projects optimized for the premium student housing market into typologies better suited to meeting Eugene's more pressing needs.
PeaceHealth could
still alter course, but I see little reason to believe it will. As a private
seller, it holds the right to choose whichever buyer meets its institutional
goals. City officials might consider tightening design standards, but
introducing new regulations now would likely provoke legal challenges. And the
University of Oregon, a natural partner in shaping the site’s future, has
already made clear that it intends to stay out of the discussion.
So here we are. A
major civic parcel, once dedicated to care and community health, now appears
destined for yet another branded student lifestyle compound. It may not count
as a scandal, but it’s certainly a loss. Not just of a building, or a set of
services, but of a chance to do something better. Something that Eugene, with
all its promise and challenges, could genuinely use. I return to this subject
not to repeat myself but because the stakes are high. What happens here will
shape the city’s trajectory for decades. The die may not be fully cast, but the
mold is setting fast.
(1)
Initiating demolition and construction on
the site as soon as next February seems entirely unrealistic to me.
(2)
Aside from its main entrance, The Standard
is entirely lacking active storefronts that would enliven its street frontage.
Granted, that frontage, particularly along the heavily trafficked Mill Street
approach north toward the viaduct, is a less-than-accommodating pedestrian
realm. Regardless, the building turns inward rather than engaging the city it
sits within. The Standard also squats on E. 8th Avenue opposite the United
States Courthouse as a less than fitting foil for the design by Pritzker-prize
winning architect Thom Mayne. Imagine if a portion of that site had instead been
reserved for a public gathering space, a plaza of a scale commensurate with the
importance of the courthouse.