Eugene/Architecture/Alphabet: T

Tiffany Building, view from the southwest (my photo).
 

This is the next in my Eugene/Architecture/Alphabet series of blog posts, the focus of each being a landmark building here in Eugene. Many of these will be familiar to most who live here but there are likely to be a few buildings that are less so. My selection criteria for each will be threefold:

1. The building must be of architectural interest, local importance, or historically significant.

1. The building must be extant so you or I can visit it in person.

1. Each building’s name will begin with a particular letter of the alphabet, and I must select one (and only one) for each of the twenty-six letters. This is easier said than done for some letters, whereas for other characters there is a surfeit of worthy candidates (so I’ll be discriminating and explain my choice in those instances).

This entry’s selection begins with the letter T, for which my choice is the Tiffany Building. I gleaned much of the information that follows from its March2, 1989 listing on the National Register of Historic Places (under its historic name, the McMorran and Washburne Department Store Building).
 
Tiffany Building
The mixed-use Tiffany Building (known previously as the McMorran and Washburne Department Store Building, and before that as the McClung Building) is a significant historic structure in downtown Eugene. Following Eugene’s urban renewal misadventures of the 1970s, it stands as an all too rare example of its type. The four-story commercial building, located at 795 Willamette Street, began its life as a two-story dry goods store in 1902, built by Nels Roney for former Eugene mayor J. H. McClung. The architect was the Portland firm of McNaughton and Raymond. Their design featured elements of the Chicago Commercial Style, including its characteristically large display windows and minimal ornamentation.
 

Tiffany Building, in its pre-1913 form as the two-story McClung Building (photographer unknown).

In 1913, George H. McMorran and Carl G. Washburne purchased and renovated the McClung Building, adding two more stories to accommodate their growing business. Their store became Eugene's premiere dry goods retailer until 1927, when they moved to a larger location at Broadway and Willamette Streets. After they left, drugstore owners Albert Tiffany and George Davis acquired the property and renamed it the Tiffany Building.
 
In its current form, the wood-framed masonry structure measures 55 by 114 feet in plan, occupying the southern one-third of its block. It features three commercial elevations: the west façade fronting Willamette Street, the south facing Eighth Street, and the east facing West Park Street. Each façade features symmetrical fenestration, simple moldings, and a projecting cornice.
 
The building’s south elevation divides horizontally by three continuous belt courses and vertically into seven bays, each with two single-lite, vertically sliding windows. The second-level windows are slightly larger than those on the upper stories. The east and west elevations also have three continuous belt courses but divide into three bays, each containing three windows per floor. Originally adorned with terra cotta trim, various modifications removed much of the ornamentation over time, though molding at the mezzanine level and modillions and dentils at the cornice line remain.

 

Tiffany Building, view from the southeast (my photo).

Though it survived the urban renewal era in Eugene, the Tiffany Building has experienced significant changes throughout its life, including the aforementioned addition of two floors, as well as major storefront modifications and repairs necessitated by a 1980 fire. If I recall correctly, it was Nagao Pacific Architectural who designed the renovations following the conflagration, rehabilitating the storefronts based on historic photos and plans, and converting internal spaces for office and retail use. The restoration efforts ensured the iconic structure’s continued contribution to Eugene's architectural heritage. Today, the building houses Jazzy Sammies, Sushi Ya, and Eugene’s Alternative Realtors on the ground floor, while the upper three stories contain apartments.
 
By virtue of its mixed-use, proportions, and architectural character, the Tiffany Building provides us with a template for future development in Eugene’s core. In particular, the desirable inclusion of new housing is consistent with the City’s vision of a vibrant downtown boasting a significant resident population. Downtown can become the home and neighborhood for many new residents, in addition to being a place to work, access government services, and share in the community.

It’s Obon Season!

 

Bon Odori dancers circle the yagura at a past JAA Obon & Taiko Festival held at Alton Baker Park in Eugene.

The 33rd annual Obon & Taiko Festival produced by the Japanese American Association of Lane County (JAA) will take place on Saturday, August 24, 2024. As a member of both the JAA and Eugene Taiko, I have participated in every JAA Obon since its inception.
 
The O-Bon is an annual Buddhist event in Japan that honors ancestors, whose spirits temporarily return to visit their living relatives. Celebrated in July or August, depending on the region, Obon serves as a significant period for family reunions and ancestral commemoration. Participants light small bonfires known as mukaebi and okuribi to guide the spirits of ancestors to and from family homes. Lanterns hung in front of houses further guide the spirits, and at the end of Obon, people release floating lanterns into rivers, lakes, and seas to send the spirits back to their world. Families clean graves, offer flowers, incense, and food to honor their ancestors, and prepare special foods to nourish and comfort visiting spirits.
 
A central feature of Obon is the Bon Odori, or Bon Dance, performed to welcome and entertain ancestral spirits. The dance typically occurs around a yagura, a traditional raised platform crucial to the festival. The yagura serves as the central stage for Bon Odori, with dancers forming a circle around it, moving in unison to the rhythm of taiko drums and other musical instruments. Drummers or musicians positioned on the yagura project the sound of the drums and music, guiding the dancers and creating a festive atmosphere. Colorful lanterns, banners, and streamers attached to the yagura add to the festive atmosphere and make them visually striking, especially at night when lanterns light up. Symbolically, the yagura represents a connection between the earthly realm and the spirits of ancestors, serving as an architectural (albeit fleeting) focal point for the community to gather around and celebrate together.

Bon Odori dancers and yagura at Zōjō-ji in Tokyo (photo by Jakub Hałun, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons)

 
The size and shape of different yagura vary, but each is usually square or rectangular, with a height ranging from a few feet to several meters. Our yagura is relatively small and simple. Over the years, I increasingly assumed responsibility for overseeing its setup at each JAA Obon, so I do appreciate its clever design by the greatly missed Ken Nagao, which allows for the yagura’s easy assembly and disassembly. While the yagura at many other Obon celebrations do function as a platform for taiko performers, ours is too small to accommodate more than a couple of drums at once; nevertheless, it has served admirably in its role as that traditional hub for the festival.

Ei Ja Nai Ka, the finale dance at the 2023 Obon & Taiko Drumming Festival in Eugene (video by Susie Barton Yamamoto).

 
I invite everyone to attend our Obon & Taiko Festival on August 24, which will take place inside the Performance Hall at the Lane Events Center. This is a first, as all previous events have been outdoors, most recently at Alton Baker Park in Eugene in successful partnership with the Oregon Asian Celebration. Moving Obon indoors is partly an accommodation for the JAA elders, who increasingly had chosen not to attend due to uncomfortably high temperatures.
 
Obon represents a time of remembrance and gratitude, reflecting the deep respect for ancestry and the interconnectedness of family and community in Japanese culture. The yagura—a symbolic focus of the celebration—speaks to architecture’s power to meaningfully convey and sustain cultural traditions.

Finally, Eugene has its new City Hall!

The new Eugene City Hall (all photos by me)

My wife and I attended last Thursday’s ribbon-cutting ceremony and public open house marking the official opening of Eugene’s new City Hall in the former Eugene Water & Electric Board headquarters building. The ceremony was the happy culmination of a lengthy saga fraught with more than its share of debate, second-guessing, and squandering of resources.(1) In my opinion, the City’s ultimate selection of the EWEB site is already proving to be the most financially responsible and fortuitous choice for the symbolic seat of Eugene’s municipal government.
 
If the sentiments of those who likewise attended the ribbon-cutting were any sign, I am not alone in thinking the City leaders got it right, despite themselves. At the outset, City councilor Mike Clark was alone in championing the idea of purchasing the EWEB building and transforming it to become Eugene’s City Hall. Years from now, I’m certain we will look back and wonder how so many overlooked or dismissed the serendipitous availability of the EWEB building and its unparalleled site. Kudos to Mike, as his persistent advocacy for the idea is now vindicated.
 

The ceremonial ribbon cutting.

The new City Hall consolidates an assortment of city services, including the offices of the Mayor and City Council, City Manager’s Office, Central Services Administration, Employee Resource Center, Equity and Community Engagement, Finance, and Information Services. EWEB will also keep about 1,000 square feet of shared public-facing space for customer appointments. This consolidation increases efficiency for these functions, while improving access to them.
 
I always regarded the EWEB headquarters to be an important public facility by virtue of its physical prominence, visibility, and architectural quality. WEGROUP Architects & Planners designed the building in the characteristically modern idiom the firm was known for (I believe Michael Marczuk was the lead designer), a vocabulary that at once conveyed its public importance while also appearing relaxed and welcoming. At the time of its completion in 1987, the building was exemplary for its implementation of sustainable design principles. Most notable was WEGROUP’s careful attention to capitalizing upon and controlling natural daylight.

Atrium.

 
The design, while not entirely timeless, continues to stand up very well today. The City undertook necessary modifications, including the creation of the new council chamber in the north wing and the introduction of security measures and other improvements required throughout by the building’s new role. Loren Berry, FCSI, AIA—the City of Eugene’s Design & Construction Manager—led the design effort for the renovations. Veronica Shean and Jenna Wheeler of Veronica Shean Interior Design assisted with the selection of new interior finishes and furniture, and Lease Crutcher Lewis was the contractor. The result is a notable refreshing of the building, admirably executed with the lightest of touches.
 

City Council Chamber.

By preserving this prominent and uniquely situated building, the City ensured that it would remain a valuable public asset, rather than allowing it to fall into private hands. The move not only secured an attractive new home for city operations but also demonstrates Eugene’s commitment to sustainability by valuing the energy embodied in the original construction. The building acknowledges the historic importance of the Willamette River to Eugene, providing a seamless connection between it and the city fabric. A landmark of civic pride, the new Eugene City Hall is poised to serve the community for years to come, embodying our community’s values and vision for a sustainable future.
 
 
(1) If you’re interested, read a few of the posts I wrote chronicling the alternative plans, site studies, and financial assessments the City commissioned in its pursuit of a new home, as well as the handwringing by me and my fellow design professionals regarding what Eugene’s City Hall should be.

The Dude Abides

Jeff Bridges enjoying a White Russian as Jeffrey Lebowski ("The Dude") in the movie The Big Lebowski. 

Having crossed into retirement after more than four decades as an architect, I suppose it’s natural to question my sense of identity and self-worth. Consciously or not, I always hitched both to my career. Who am I without the structure and trajectory of my professional life? Do I have or need a new passion to drive me? My immediate thought is the absence of drive or purpose can be a goal itself. Should the next version of me accept going with the flow and finding peace in simply being? The prospect of living authentically as one can while valuing a calm and unperturbed existence is certainly appealing.
 
Half-seriously, perhaps this is why I am drawn to the wisdom of "the Dude," the character famously portrayed by Jeff Bridges in the 1998 Coen Brothers comedic film The Big Lebowski. The Dude is the embodiment of a laid-back attitude and a philosophy of resilience, acceptance, and living in the moment. Many consider The Big Lebowski a cinematic classic with good reason, garnering it not only a cult-like following, but also spawning its own quasi-religion (The Church of the Latter-Day Dude). The movie’s blend of memorable characters and themes of identity, existentialism, and the absurdity of life is at once thoroughly humorous and thoughtful.
 
The Dude’s ethos of “taking it easy” isn’t about laziness or indifference; rather, it is an invitation to savor the present moment. I am trying to fully embrace this philosophy, as I believe it epitomizes what a healthy version of retirement can be.
 
So far, being retired has meant stepping away from the responsibilities and routines that defined much of my life. I now have time to explore new interests and enjoy simple pleasures that were often overshadowed by work. It's my opportunity to adopt a slower, more relaxed pace. It’s about finding joy in everyday moments—whether a quiet morning coffee, a walk in nature, or simply being present. There's a lot to be said for appreciating simpler things and letting go of unnecessary complications.
 
Life has its ups and downs, and the past few years have shown us how unpredictable things can be. By welcoming a mindset of calm acceptance, I expect to better navigate turbulent times with grace and resilience. Whether dealing with the unexpected or adjusting to a slower pace, taking it easy and staying flexible will be key. Throughout The Big Lebowski, the Dude took it easy, even when things got a bit out of hand. It's a valuable lesson in not letting life's bumps and bruises steal your peace. As the Stranger (played by Sam Elliott in the film) might say, sometimes you eat the bear, and sometimes, well, the bear eats you. It will all be about how I choose to roll with it.
 
Let’s carry this theme further: Retirement, like the Dude’s rug, ties the room together. I have never been extravagant. I am content with living modestly. My “rug” is a quest for normalcy and comfort, and a sense of order in my unassuming life. Much as the rug provided the Dude structure in his otherwise unstructured existence, I hope to find some order by decluttering and simplifying; nevertheless, this process will not be at the expense of losing what I’m familiar and comfortable with.
 
This new chapter is especially about spending quality time with loved ones, my wife being first and foremost. Together, we look forward to creating new memories, exploring unfamiliar places, and enjoying simple pleasures. Whether traveling, gardening, or just having a quiet evening at home, there will be joy in sharing these experiences. Like the Dude’s rug, our partnership has been a constant through the years, and now we have the chance to enjoy life’s simple pleasures together more fully.
 
I acknowledge aspiring to emulate the "Dude" may not be easy. Shedding the layers of identity built over a lifetime as an architect will take time. Ultimately, it's not about achieving specific goals, even if pursuing "Dudeism" is one of them. Retirement is not a destination to reach but a path to walk, with each step taken in the spirit of the Dude's easygoing nature. In the end, it’s all about living in harmony with oneself and the world. It's about accepting life’s ebb and flow with grace, finding contentment in simplicity, and staying true to oneself. Retirement is my new beginning, a chance to live with a grateful heart and a stress-free vibe.
 
As an architect, I contributed toward the meticulous crafting of spaces for others; it’s now time for me to design the next phase of my life. I’m embracing this task with the calm and collected spirit of the Dude. The Dude abides—and so will I (or at least I'll give it my best shot).
 
How do you find peace and simplicity in your life? Share your thoughts and experiences in the comments below.

The Imperative of Adaptive Reuse in a Disposable Culture

Commons Addition, North Eugene High School (2004-2024) by Robertson/Sherwood/Architects pc

I’ve outlasted several of the projects I worked on during my career. The Romania Subaru dealership that once occupied the property at 7th & Washington (now home to Five Guys, Jimmy John’s, and Starbucks outlets) is one such building I shepherded from design through construction. More recently, Eugene School District 4J demolished the old North Eugene High School. Robertson/Sherwood/Architects designed significant renovations and an addition to the school, which were completed in 2004, a scant two decades ago. Bittersweet is probably the best way to characterize being around to witness the razing of these projects. It seems their useful lifespans should have been much longer. Seeing this rapid cycle of construction/use/demolition, though not unique to my experience, reveals much about our contemporary culture and the broader architectural landscape.

It’s worth noting the transience of most buildings throughout history. Notwithstanding the notable and lasting architectural monuments many of us are familiar with, most human constructions have essentially been temporary solutions designed to serve immediate needs, as opposed to being built for the ages. In today’s world, economic pressures, technological advancements, and evolving aesthetic preferences continue to drive this mindset.

Romania Subaru (1999-2011)

The former site of Romania Subaru as it stands today.

Economically, the drive for profit and efficiency often eclipses the desire for permanence. Developers necessarily prioritize quick returns on their investments, influencing the design and construction of buildings wherein this goal is paramount. A knock-on effect is the premature demolition of structures to make way for new, more profitable developments.

Technological advancements also contribute to this phenomenon. Rapid progress in construction techniques and materials can quickly render buildings outdated, as can recognition of flawed design strategies (see the leaky condo crisis). So too can greater understanding of the threats posed by seismic events and climate change. The push for energy efficiency and smart technologies often makes older structures seem obsolete, even if they are still functionally sound. In this context, demolishing and rebuilding can appear more attractive than retrofitting and preserving.

Aesthetic preferences, too, evolve with time. Architectural trends shift, and what was once considered innovative can quickly become passé. The desire to stay current with styles and innovations leads to abbreviated cycles of construction and demolition, where buildings are regularly replaced to align with contemporary tastes.

Additionally, the sheer cost of necessary improvements can drive decisions to replace rather than renovate and reuse buildings. Cost-benefit analyses still too often reveal the expenses involved in bringing an older building up to modern standards exceed those of new construction. This financial reality further contributes to the preference for demolition over adaptive reuse.

Nothing is left of the original North Eugene High School.

This culture of impermanence has profound implications for our collective identity. Buildings are more than mere shelters; they express our values, histories, and aspirations. When we demolish structures we risk erasing important cultural markers and disrupting our connections with the past. The built environment becomes a fleeting snapshot of a moment rather than a lasting record of our evolution.

Historic preservation efforts, though commendable, often struggle against the tide of economic and technological pressures. We may spare iconic landmarks, but many buildings that hold local significance for a community face demolition. This loss can be particularly acute in rapidly developing urban areas, where the pressure to maximize land use is intense. A case in point that I documented back in 2021 was the demolition of the old Glenwood Restaurant near the University of Oregon campus in favor of a new student housing development.

Adaptive reuse offers a compelling alternative to the cycle of demolition and reconstruction. Repurposing existing buildings to serve new functions extends their utility while minimizing waste, resource depletion, and embodied carbon. Adaptive reuse revitalizes structures, allowing them to evolve alongside the communities they serve.

By reimagining and transforming existing buildings, we preserve cultural and historical significance while addressing contemporary needs. This approach aligns with sustainable practices, significantly reducing the environmental impact associated with new construction. Adaptive reuse minimizes waste by keeping existing structures out of landfills, conserves resources by reducing the need for new materials, and lowers embodied carbon emissions by reusing what has already been built. Additionally, adaptive reuse fosters creativity, as architects and designers find innovative ways to transform existing spaces.

This is far from a new idea. Stewart Brand published his seminal book How Buildings Learn back in 1994. He persuasively argued that architects should accept the inevitability of change and refinement, and design in a way that buildings can gracefully be adapted to different purposes. If architects do this—accept the reality of change as a constant—they will design new buildings without arrogance, buildings that are long-lasting, flexible, and adaptive to change over time.

Advocating for adaptive reuse is essential in promoting a sustainable future. So, rather than focusing on and lamenting the loss of buildings, I will instead champion the innovation and environmental benefits of repurposing existing structures. Every adaptive reuse project presents an opportunity to advance design, sustainability, and functionality in architecture.

Contributing to discussions and initiatives that promote a dynamic and sustainable built environment is crucial. The profession of architecture thrives on continuous learning and adaptation, reflecting its evolving nature. Emphasizing adaptive reuse not only preserves our cultural heritage but also paves the way for a more sustainable future.