by Eric Miller
Altoona has another tooth missing. It seems each time I de-board a train in my hometown I find another downtown building has fallen victim to shortsightedness, a lack of imagination and foresight, and, most definitively, the wrecking ball. This time it was a nucleus of sentimentality, the Woolworth building, that I arrived to find gone.
I had heard about the impending demise of Woolworth. The building's owner had bought it on spec and let the roof rot away until the building "couldn't be saved." I put that last part in quotes because I've seen many buildings brought back from severely deteriorated conditions. In worst-case scenarios, when the structures can't be salvaged, the facades can be retained and infill buildings built behind.
To look at it as only a building is to sell it and the town short, however. It was after all Woolworth's, a staple of every self-respecting small town in America. This was a place where I had lunch at a counter with my grandmother and got a free Coke glass. It was a building that supplied many local children with their first pet, a bird or goldfish from the far corner of the basement. Those memories all came rushing back when I looked through the yellow jaws and cracked glass to see the pegboard along a wall, pegboard that once supported merchandise and supplied thousands of Avenue shoppers over the years.
I remember as a teenager being unhappy with the current state of retail being centered around the suburban district. I decided that instead of heading to the Logan Valley Mall, I would try to do as much holiday shopping as I could downtown. There weren't many places left to shop--in fact Woolworth's was one of few remaining Avenue staples. I also chose the only tailor downtown for my high-school prom tuxedo rental. A few years later when the whole chain folded, the Altoona store finally closed, not because it wasn't self-sustaining--according to the store management, it was.
It was a corporate decision, forcing the last open variety store on the Avenue to go dark.
Since then that darkness hasn't lifted, at least not in downtown Altoona. When I was in grade school, downtown Altoona supported a movie theater, a sizeable department store, a furniture store, a tuxedo shop, a shoe store, a jewelry store, McCory's five-and-ten, a few smaller clothing stores and an appliance store, in addition to Woolworth's. They were what remained even after the mall was built. One by one, they closed.
The closing of these stores in the downtown district isn't something unique to Altoona-- many towns have experienced a similar fate. What does seem to be more unique is the aggressiveness with which the city takes aim at demolishing un-used buildings, making reuse and any sort of revival difficult and unlikely. It's these gaps between buildings that will prevent downtown Altoona from ever becoming an inviting, walkable district.
If I Were Mayor
Looking at the glass as half empty is hard. There'a sucking sound coming now as the straw scrapes the bottom of the glass. It's almost as if there's no return for Altoona. So much has been destroyed, it's almost as if the Altoona I remember ceases to exist. The Altoona Mirror buildings, the Wolf Furniture building, the Kaufman's building, these are just a few. This is in addition to large number of residential buildings, and other commercial buildings that I've seen photos of but have never known, like the Logan House and the train station. A dozen or so years ago 11th Avenue remained largely intact. Now the missing pieces almost outnumber the extant structures.
It's hard not to let anger over what has been lost prevent us from saving what is left, and doing what is necessary to turn downtown once more into a center of this mountain town without a center.
If any self-identifying central district is to exist again, Altoona has to make a pact with itself that no more buildings on 11th or 12th Avenues will be demolished. More, efforts will have to be made to fill in the gaps with new buildings of three stories or more. These buildings should have retail on the ground floors and residential spaces above. Efforts should also be made to convert the spaces in the upper floors of the older buildings to residential apartments and condos.
The other unrealized physical asset Altoona has is a wealth of Victorian-era gingerbread houses, most suffering from ill repair. Up to this point there has been little interest in these. Many are scattered throughout the hillsides on either side of the city. These are somewhat unique to Altoona and should be saved, and, if possible, saved in groups. It would also be advantageous to move several and cluster them in a neighborhood near downtown.
Altoona has grand natural landscape of tremendous scenic beauty. Any scenic beauty the city itself does have hasn't been realized. In fact one could say it's the toothless Claude of the Alleghenies. But imagine a town filled with colorful gingerbread Victorians in this majestic mountain setting, surrounding a walkable central business district with shops and restaurants! The components are there.
As more of the baby-boomer generation ages and younger generations wait longer to have children, demand for apartment and condo housing will increase. Demand for car-free communities is also on the rise and expected to accelerate. Currently Altoona doesn't have much to offer anyone who doesn't want a single-family suburban house. Downtown Altoona can grow into a lively central core that provides for a healthier, maintenance-free lifestyle.
Altoona works hard at attracting tourists, yet I haven't seen much in the way of efforts to attract residents, to make it into a place where people want to live. Continuously demolishing the central business district and letting its unique housing stock rot away is a path to creating not only a downtown missing most of its teeth, but a big doughnut hole inside a ring of suburbs.
Altoona, it's time to take stock of what's left and recreate yourself for the future.