56 Houses Left

The most iconic, photogenic, and yes-my favorite home in Carrollton have burned to almost nothing the evening of Friday, July 18th.

When you document a static place consistently for almost two years, you find small niches where you return to again and again.  4245 Manteca was a house where I felt comfortable within, which is completely unexplainable for such a pathetic, haunting place.  Every time I return to the Carrollton wasteland, this house never seemed to lose that feeling that it was someone’s beloved home.  Despite the boarded up windows, glass patio door reduced to shards and welcoming in the elements, trashed out interior from wayward transients, and layers of boring graffiti, it still managed to carry on its former family’s presence.   I have no idea when this place was abandoned; it was vacant long before I started this project.  Considering it had boarded up windows and the airport stopped the practice of boarding up anything since 2003, this place had to have been abandoned for 4 years or more.   I would venture to guess it had been vacant for even more years than that.  

This house had some unusual characteristics such as customized interior archways and bold, bright colors. There was a terriffic skylight in the kitchen that cast a warm glow over all the glass and debris that vandals left in their wake.  An umber-toned brick mantle was the focus of a living room that was slowly being claimed by English ivy.  The yard was filled with the evidence of its former family.  There was a kid’s playset out back, nice quaint landscaping with pretty flowers in selected garden spots, a doghouse, birdhouses, etc.  The overall look of the interior was rather outdated.  A brown built-in stove matching dark woodwork in the kitchen and a dated color scheme suggested that remodeling was put off until they knew what would happen from the airport expansion.  Remodling in Carrollton was simply not done after the buyouts began since people knew they would not get their money out of it.  Keep in mind that rumors of the buyout were circulating in the late 1980s and the process actually began in the early 1990s.  Therefore, it makes some sense that this house may have not updated since the 80s.  I have come across more than a few houses that had some pretty old features, and 4245 certainly was no exception.

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I had to post this picture because, as we all know, nature will always win. Tiny maple trees are feeding from the ashes of this house. Although they have a long way to go, those little 6-12″ trees represent how truly abandoned this house is. Remember, this house has sat in this condition for four long months. At least mother nature is attempting to clean up the ruins of humans.

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I have no idea when it happened. It has been a while since I took a drive down Gist towards Lindbergh Blvd. ln May, Freebourne was still a park and a large family picnic was underway. I had thought about coming back later in the week to take pictures of the park where I had many great memories. So the next time I came back, another large picnic was being had, this time from a church outing. As I don’t want to interrupt a get-together, my camera and I left again for yet another day. This scenario happened repeatedly until I was completely drawn back to the burned houses for more artsy photographic explorations. Needless to say, I put the remaining attractions on Gist on the back list, assuming they would be there for a long time. I assume too much.

From the few new weeds grown on the dirt mound that was once the Robertson Fire Station, I would place the destruction around the end of May or early June. I can also venture to guess that is also when they decided to close down Freebourne as well.

For a while, I fantasized about purchasing the Firestation to turn it into an art studio. I honestly did not think the airport would go for that since it is directly across from the runway, but the tall, open interior space and upper apartment area would have made the most amazing studio and gallery. It used to be nestled right in with the large homes of Gist, and of course next to the park. It was still in operation as a firehouse during almost the entire buyout, closing down sometime late in 2006. Despite being openly visible to the new runway, the station had been heavily vandalized throughout 2007 and 2008.

The park was a place of many memories. I went to day-camp for 6 weeks in the summertime at Freebourne from the time I was 9 until I was 12. There was a giant bush with arching branches that created a wonderful lil hut where I would spend time playing. The playground portion of the park was on a steep hillside. Swinging from those swings, I would imagine jumping off and flying down the hill to my death. A concrete tunnel was once there, but I believe it was taken out sometime ago when parks everywhere converted to the boring plastic nightmares they are now. Nevertheless, it was a beautiful and large park with lots of forestry and wide open fields too. New developments do not reserve this kind of vast green space for parks anymore, and its sad to see such a useful space go to nothing. O’Connor Park is the last park near the Carrollton Subdivision that has not been divided (Oak Valley Park on Natural Bridge is barely in existence) or completely sold to the City of St. Louis. Oddly enough, you have to go through the streets of Carrollton to get to O’Connor Park, unlike Freebourne which was just to the outside. It puzzles me why they took Freebourne and not O’Connor too; O’Connor is an OK park, but its not nearly as large or picturesque as Freebourne and not nearly as accessible. It does have its nice spots, including a fantastic tree by the roller hockey rink and in general is rather (obviously) quiet. Overall, however, it doesn’t have very many trees at all and overlooks an unsightly industrial park. Rumor has it that O’Connor will remain in Bridgeton’s hands.

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Nothing has been destroyed since the recent Lonsdale demos and the fire. This past week’s violent winds and rain has caused major damage to the last house on Woodford Way and another home on Bittick. The roof of both homes has been nearly blown off to the point that the airport has added caution tape around Woodford, which didn’t exactly hold me back from getting close enough to take a few shots.

Tuesday evening, I found three teenage kids stranded with a flat tire. I drove past them once just before dark, wondering what a bunch of kids were doing in the middle of the street. I drove by them some time later and they were still there… they were stranded. Who knows what they were doing. Maybe they were mudding through the empty plots of land, or maybe they were just cruising too fast down the street. Whatever they did, their the rim was bent up badly and the tire was dead flat. Nevertheless, they’re kids doing no more than I did when I was 16, so I stopped and asked if they needed help. Turns out that they didn’t have a phone and were scared shitless; it was just after dark by this time. They were highly thankful for the use of my phone.

“Yo, Greg? Dude, you gotta help us! We busted up a tire in Ghost Town! Get here now! We’re borrowing some chick’s phone…. Hey- where we anyway? What are these streets called?”

“Chartley and Celburne,” I replied. I turned to the speaker’s brother. “Ghost Town? Is that what you call this area?” He gave me a guilty grin.

“Ghost Town. Yup, Its creepy as hell here! How do you know about this place?”

“I used to live here. Its not that creepy to me.”

“Man, I’m scared as hell. About five other cars drove past us and nobody would stop, so we’re stuck here in the dark! Where are the cops when you actually need them?”

Just as on cue, as if it was some kind of lame fiction novel or crappy sitcom, a cop car pulls up, and turns the flashers on. The kids start cheering the second the cop gets out of the car.  The cop opens his mouth, and starts booming. (more…)

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Driving home from the British Sea Power show last night, I had an inexplicable urge to drive through Carrollton. Being that it was one in the morning, I decided it wasn’t the safest thing to do. So I waited until this cold and rainy afternoon to see if there is anything going on… and shocked to see my new favorite home now only half-remains.

I spent some time photographing at 12752 Lonsdale on Friday, March 28. I photographed the interior of this home for the first time about a week or two ago, and I found it to be a beautiful place for pictures… the rooms were spacious, the wallpaper was interesting, and my favorite part was the dancing blinds off a sliding glass door in the back with all the glass broken out… with any breeze, the blinds would pick up and dance rhythmically in the wind, fluttering in opposite movements to one another, spiraling and twisting about. I’ve photographed the exterior many times, but because it sat boarded up for many years, I had no desire to enter. Places that are boarded up obviously do not afford good lighting for pictures. However, the boards started coming down once the weather became slightly warmer… and its visual treasures were finally revealed
Friday was the first time I had seen any sun all this past week and I wanted to get some decent interior shots. The last time I went in this house, it was cloudy and I struggled trying to get good color.  I was looking to capture the patterns of light reflected from the shards of broken glass everywhere in this house. The original pictures of the half door (see flickr) were cool in tone, and I wanted to see if I could get some warmer, more colorful hues. I also loved the pattern of the lattice wall in the foyer and wanted to get some closeups. Now, I am very thankful that I had the little time I did and got the shots I wanted. (more…)

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Early on in my life, I learned the importance of thought. To this day I still try to devote time to simply think and reflect. When I was younger I would lie down and let my mind weave through fleeting thoughts on school, inspirations for art, how to solve all the problems of the world, or simply wonder what the edge of the universe might look like (which I concluded long ago to be a dense, salmon-pink fog). Still, I never complain when I am left with a few moments alone because it gives me time to let my mind drift, all the while physically staring up into the oblivion. There were two places where I did most of my contemplation during my youthful Carrollton years- my bedroom and my backyard pool. Of my room, I could tell you the location of every glow-in-the-dark sticker in the shapes of stars and planets. The pool was also a great place to meditate as I could float around, letting the wind drift me from one edge of the pool to the other, all the while watching low overhead clouds and planes. In the cooler months when our pool was covered, I would simply lie on the deck and admire the real stars on the night’s chilly, velvety ceiling while wondering about the best ways to stop the destruction of the rainforest, what my future husband would look like, or why anyone listens to Michael Bolton.

So I find it rather strange that the two exact places where I spent endless hours of my youth contemplating the meaning of life has now opened up two rather largish sinkholes. My logical head realizes that there are many holes throughout Carrollton owing to the fact that the crews do not compact the ground when they are finished. Still, it is a bit unsettling (forgive the pun) that the two places I spent so much time dreaming up my future now is swallowing large portions of dirt deep into the underground. Maybe its just simply coincidence. Or, maybe there are some thoughts that need to be buried in time.

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The hot-water heater house at 12722 Lonsdale was a favorite of mine long before its front roof collapsed. This house went down on Friday, March 14th.

I wearily drove through the neighborhood after a long three-day conference on Saturday the 15th to find this one down to its driveway. I stood here for a good hour taking pictures of what little remained, waking up in the cold. There was a decorative lamppost in the far corner of the yard which had been used as a bird’s nest in recent years. I never noticed this little detail until the rest of the house was gone. Nicknamed, The Hot-Water Heater House, this place had also given me some of my favorite images, particularly in black and white. Last fall I found a newspaper that had blown into the yard with the headline, “Monuments to the Past.” Although the article was actually about a graveyard, I found the inclusion of the newspaper article into many of my shots here a fitting, final tribute. This place was a gorgeous little house that again would have been a great place to call home. It felt comfortable and well cared for long even long after its front beams were pulled off and the roof finally gave way. This house was full of warm pastel light and the little decorative touches that give a home character. The best part of this house was the hand-painted bedroom with folksy animals frolicking together in an intensely hued grassland. (more…)

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14806 Pont, on the northern side of Bonfils, was destroyed on March 3^rd, a day before a massive snow storm left the wrecker sitting on this plot for weeks later.

I explored this house in detail after I saw the yard was dug up from the water tap destroy. From the outside, it was cute yet nothing special. There was a workbench that was moved to the front yard, which sat for years. A faded bandanna clung to the dogwood for an equal spread of time. Inside this home was full of bittersweet beauty. It was a spacious, well cared-for and classy place. It was the type of house that the homeowners took pride in. Despite knowing for years it would all be flattened and crushed, they updated and wallpapered, painted and decorated. A great room with a cozy fireplace flanked with windows was just off the entrance foyer. To the right of the foyer was a handsome library that make me envious of the number of books that was once proudly displayed on the floor-to-ceiling shelves. The bedrooms told me that kids grew up here and possibly left as teenagers or older. The open kitchen and dining area was inviting to walk around in. I am sure the cabinetry would have been quite nice had they not been wrenched off by scavengers. It was the kind of place that you knew once Lambert’s final letter was delivered to them, the family’s heartache sunk in deep. There was a feeling that something was not quite right; not in an eerie, creepy way but in a sad and melancholy way. Standing inside this empty and ravaged house, I could almost hear the scornful tears of the family who probably will never feel at home like they did on Pont. Wherever they are, whatever place they now try to call home, I am sure this family can still feel it. Everyone I have talked with all tell me they still do. (more…)

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The little yellow house on Pont was destroyed on February 28th.

I tried and tried to find out where the red wrecker went next. I drove around the subdivision four times until on 2/25 I decided to give it a go and check out Pont, on the southern side of Bonfils. Surprisingly, I saw the wrecker parked in the yard next to this yellow, numberless house. This cluster of remaining homes have been long tied up in court and sat vacant well before mine. They should have been taken years ago… they are the closest remaining homes next to the runway and could clearly be seen from Natural Bridge Road. Now, it seems, all loose ends are slowly being cleaned up and the houses cleared away. Graffiti strewn and boarded up for years, this particular house was frequently targeted by vandals who wanted their name seen from the street, for you could see the entire backside of this place when driving down Natural Bridge. This house was ready to come down, much like its now awaiting four brothers. (more…)

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