Adriatic Modernism: Grand Hotel of Lopud

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On the shores of small island just off the eastern coast of the Adriatic Sea, a (mostly) vacant modern hotel lives outs its days surrounded by the quiet anonymity provided by beautiful Lopud, Croatia.  Buried in the Mediterranean garden of an island, the remains of this giant white concrete ship have peered from behind the island’s lush vegetative growth for the last eighty years. The ‘ship’ is the Grand Hotel, a modernist masterpiece designed by one of Yugoslavia’s greatest architects.  It was built in the 1930s and kick-started the fishing island’s tourism industry.  The Grand Hotel survived World War II and nationalization, but in the years since the Croatian War and re-privatization the hotel has failed to find its footing.  After a 2001 bankruptcy it has passed through several companies’ hands, each trying to do what the one before could not. Today the Grand Hotel still appears as an unfinished remodel, but it has a new owner, a new hope, and a new set of residents. 

Begich Towers: An Alaskan Town in a Tower

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In the 1950s the United States government built a bunker of a residential skyscraper in the Alaskan wilderness. The purpose of the bomb-proof mid-century Hodge Building was to support a remote logistics station in Whittier, Alaska. It was part of a completely self-sufficient complex designed to allow its residents to stay indoors for months at a time during the harsh coastal Alaskan winters. The military eventually withdrew from Whittier before the Cold War facilities were fully utilized, leaving the mostly vacant buildings to the town. When the second largest earthquake in recorded history leveled much of southern Alaska in 1964, the 14-story Cold War relic was one of few structures to survive. Most in Whittier eventually found their way to the building, which was renamed Begich Towers (or BTI) after a missing Congressman. Today all but a handful of the town’s residents live inside.

Inn of Insolvency: The Skinburness Hotel

Skinburness Hotel
Welcome to northwestern England’s Skinburness Leisure Hotel, known for generations in Cumbria as a Skinburness landmark. During its 130 years of operation, the classic Victorian inn assembled an impressive track record of bankrupting its owners. Known as the Skinburness Marine Hotel when it opened in the 1880s, it enjoyed a brief, opulent period until its first owner went bankrupt after several years. The hotel changed hands and later spent nearly sixty years in government service as part of a liquor control program. Later it re-entered the private sector and proceeded to bankrupt its next two owners. For ten years it enjoyed a brief Renaissance under an experienced hand, but after it sold the hotel bankrupted its next owner. Since the Skinburness Hotel closed for good in 2006, two attempts to redevelop the property have failed. Now vacated for the last ten years, the old inn has deteriorated significantly. Today it remains for sale, awaiting an impending future of being demolished.

Blue Ridge Blight on Afton Mountain

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In the 1950s and 60s the motor court rest stop at Rockfish Gap on Afton Mountain was a motoring mecca, offering Virginia motorists a scenic respite in the Blue Ridge Mountains. The first of this roadside collection of buildings was erected in 1948, and for more than twenty years Afton Mountain offered dining, gasoline, and lodging to weary travelers along the Blue Ridge Parkway. Business started to decline in the 1970s when Interstate 64 was constructed to the North, bypassing the small outcrop of buildings. For the next two decades the businesses were allowed to deteriorate before they started shutting down in the late 1990s. Less than a decade later, all but one business on Afton Mountain was closed. Some of the buildings have been set on fire and several have already been demolished, but all have been vandalized. The remaining dilapidated structures are unsafe with a combination of asbestos, broken windows, and collapsing roofs.

Romanian Treasure: Cazinoul din Constanţa

Cazinoul-din-Constanta
Founded in 600 BC, the city of Constanţa (historically known as “Tomis”) is the oldest continually inhabited city in Romania. Its port is the largest on the Black Sea and one of the most capacious in Europe. The city’s coastline is guarded by the empty Cazinoul din Constanţa, a rare and eye-catching example of Romanian Art Nouveau design. One hundred years ago this former casino was Romania’s most magnificent building, hosting world leaders and Europe’s elite. It survived two bombings during two world wars before gambling laws extirpated its profitability. The building was later forced into civic duty, which it served until it eventually closed in 1990. Attempts to renovate the waterfront site have been defeated by a financial crisis, delicate renovation constraints, gambling restrictions, and political indecision. Meanwhile, the estimate to repair the building grows. Will this Romanian treasure be saved before it succumbs to vandals and the elements? 

Morristown College: School of Freedom

Morristown College
Morristown, Tennessee, is rich in history. It was first settled in 1787, almost a decade before Tennessee became a state. The town played host to both Union and Confederate armies during the Civil War. It was also home to Morristown College, established in 1881 to offer former slaves opportunity for higher education. The school was fueled by donations and operated on a shoestring budget, yet managed to stick around for 113 years until it closed in 1994. The buildings never found re-use and eventually landed in the lap of an unmotivated owner, who ignored redevelopment and rescue efforts. More than twenty years after closing, Morristown College’s brick husks are still standing – albeit slowly crumbling – just blocks from the city center. A new owner hopes to change that, but development partners are needed before the plans can turn into a reality. Are these decaying buildings significant and an important part of Morristown history, or are they merely blight? Are they worth saving, and if so, what can be salvaged? 

Ravenswick Hall: Disrupting an English Manor

Ravenswick Hall
Abandoned English manors raise questions. How does a beautiful estate owned by the same family for generations become deserted and neglected? Ravenswick Hall is no exception. Once a proud English manor in North Yorkshire, it remained in the same family for generations. The estate was eventually sold out of the family, partially remodeled, then abandoned, and later repossessed by the bank. Recently it was re-sold, and is now waiting to be demolished in late 2016 to make way for new construction. A bankruptcy, a failed bid to make Historic England’s preservation list, and systematic vandalism headline the twentieth-century drama surrounding the 276 year-old estate. The new owner hopes to change that next year with a new Ravenswick Hall. So what’s the story behind these abandoned buildings and why are they being torn down? Read on.

Prora: the Colossus of Rügen

Prora KdF resort
Owner of the title “longest failed beach resort of the Third Reich” belongs to Prora, a mostly abandoned collection of buildings along the Baltic coast in northeastern Germany. The seaside retreat was built by the world’s first large-scale tourism operator as an accessible vacation spot for 20,000 working-class Germans. Longer than some roads, this striking example of Third Reich architecture takes nearly two hours to circumnavigate on foot. Prora was never operational. After the onset of the Second World War, a diverting of resources stopped construction before the resort could be completed. Today the former Nazi creation is still partially developed while struggling to find developers, investors, and acceptance.