I present to you, my first fic in almost four years. Requested by ambrosegirlforever. Thank you for giving me ideas for my next fic as well. This is probably very terrible so feel free to leave critiques if you want, it’ll only help me get better.
Warnings: AU where Finn actually drives lol, Fluff (I think?), Is it angst if someone almost freezes to death?, Cameos by Bayley and Sami Zayn
SN: the following is most likely a textbook example of misguided ‘master planning’ and urban densification for students of architecture, urban planning, and public policy. I find it to be an amazing history of how the best of intentions for public housing became the nightmare of impoverished project dwellings of our recent past in the US. I was previously unaware of the following history of St. Louis and it is definitely a cautionary tale worth sharing…
Pruitt-Igoe: the troubled high-rise that came to define urban America
If you propose a high-rise public housing project in America, your opponents will almost certainly use Pruitt-Igoe as a rhetorical weapon against you – and defeat you with it. The Captain WO Pruitt Homes and William L Igoe Apartments, a racially segregated, middle-class complex of 33 11-storey towers, opened to great fanfare on the north side of St Louis between 1954 and 1956. But within a decade, it would become a decrepit warehouse exclusively inhabited by poor, black residents. Within two decades, it would undergo complete demolition.
Whether you call Pruitt-Igoe’s short, troubled existence a failure of architecture, a failure of policy, or a failure of society, its fate remains bound up with, and reflective of, the fate of many American cities in the mid-20th century.
Even before the dust settled from the infamous, widely televised 1972 implosion of one of Pruitt-Igoe’s buildings (the last of which wouldn’t fall until 1976), the argument that the design had doomed it gained serious traction. Architectural historian Charles Jencks cites that much-seen dynamiting as the moment “modern architecture died”.
Those inclined to read the story of Pruitt-Igoe as a morality play of 20th-century architectural hubris tend to describe the design, laughingly, as “award-winning” when in fact it won no such thing. Architectural Forum did praise his original proposal as 1951’s “best high apartment”, citing its spatial efficiency, allowance for plenty of outdoor green space and innovations such as limited-stop elevators. But in 1965, the magazine re-examined the reality of the project and declared it a failure.
Pruitt-Igoe became a byword for the kind of dysfunctional urban abyss that, during the decades of “white flight” after the second world war, Americans who had the means believed they were escaping by moving out of cities. From the safety of their new, suburban communities, they looked upon central cities as too dirty, too crowded, too criminal – and, in many regions of the country, too black.
Not even Pruitt-Igoe’s heartiest apologists would call it a success. Its 2,870 units reached a peak of 91% occupancy in 1957, a figure that would plummet below 35% by 1971, when just 600 people remained in the 17 of the complex’s buildings that were not yet boarded up. Reports proliferated of property crime, gang activity, drug dealing, prostitution and murder. Heaters, toilets, garbage incinerators and electricity all malfunctioned, and at one point the faulty plumbing let loose floods of raw sewage through the hallways.
Even today, when our eyes have supposedly grown accustomed to all manner of developments meant to shock us with their sheer incongruity, aerial photographs of the Pruitt-Igoe complex give you pause. There it stands, like a poor man’s Ville Radieuse, on 23 freshly cleared hectares of St Louis’s existing urban fabric, looking utterly alien to the miles of low-rise 19th and early 20th-century brick structures surrounding it.
But these images of Pruitt-Igoe have a much less firm a place in the culture than those of Pruitt-Igoe’s destruction, an event that – though commentators have used it in the service of a variety of political points – on balance reinforced the American fear of the type of tall, high-density housing that is so common today in the rich cities of east Asia.
More #HalfGodHalfDevil Tour dates have just been announced. See you on the second leg this summer with @inthismomentofficial, @vimicmusic and @littlemissnasty. Tickets go on-sale Friday at motionlessinwhite.net . 6.28 - The Pageant - St. Louis, MO 7.01 - House of Blues - North Myrtle Beach, SC 7.02 - Norva - Norfolk, VA 7.05 - State Theatre Portland - Portland, ME 7.07 - Asbury Park Convention Hall - Asbury Park, NJ 7.11 - Coronado Performing Arts Center - Rockford, IL 7.12 - McGrath Amphitheater - Cedar Rapids, IA 7.15 - Shiley Acres - Inwood, WV 7.21 - Concrete Street Amph. - Corpus Christi, TX 7.22 - South Side Ballroom - Dallas, TX 7.23 - La Hacienda Event Center - Midland, TX 7.25 - The Cotillion - Wichita, KS 7.26 - 7 Flags Event Center - Clive, IA 7.28 - Orpheum Theater - Madison, WI 7.29 - Mayo Civic Center - Rochester, MN 7.30 - Fargo Civic Auditorium - Fargo, ND 8.01 - Bismarck Event Center - Bismarck, ND 8.03 - Shrine Auditorium - Billings, MT 8.04 - Ironhorse Saloon - Sturgis, SD 8.05 - Downtown Lincoln - Lincoln, NE
“Son of a bitch!” Dean slammed the lid of the laptop closed just as Sam and Cas hurried into the library, concerned by Dean’s outburst.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” While Cas looked worried, Sam looked poised for a fight.
Dean looked up at Cas and his brother, a devastated, pained expression marring his features. “It’s cancelled.”
Cas frowned. “What’s cancelled?”
Pushing the laptop away from him, Dean sighed heavily. “AC/DC. They cancelled the rest of the tour.” He squeezed his eyes shut, seemingly holding back tears. “Apparently,” he emphasized the word angrily, “Brian Johnson’s doctor told him to stop touring because he’s risking total hearing loss.” He huffed, as if it were the world’s biggest inconvenience to him.
Sam’s lips formed a thin line, anger etched into his brow as he stared at his brother. He shifted his weight to the other foot, his fist balled against his thigh. “AC– Dean! I thought something had happened to you!”
“It did, Sammy!” Dean insisted. “I’ve waited my whole life to see them. And I bought tickets. And now it’s canceled. And my heart is broken.”
if you guys live in the St. Louis/House Springs Missouri area and like metal/metalcore
then you should check out a band called Unimagined. they sort of like The Funeral Portrait if you have ever hear of those guys. my friend’s boyfriend is the lead guitarist and they’re trying to get some recognization. they’ve recorded some stuff but it’s not quite done yet. they’re gonna be at Fubar St. Louis on June 10 and tickets range from $10-13 if you wanna go see them. they can use all the fans they can get. they have a facebook page too if you wanna check it out
The Pruitt-Igoe dilemma. From conception to demolition. 1954-1972. St. Louis Missouri.
What you have or are currently witnessing is a disturbing look at how the American government has demonized, abused, and unsupported urban public housing. Simply put, many have given public housing a bad reputation over the years, for a plethora of reasons. However, the epic story of one public housing development still confounds and astounds many today. The 33 11-story buildings of Pruitt-Igoe was billed as the solution to the overcrowding and deterioration that plagued inner city St. Louis. Completed in 1954, Pruitt-Igoe came to symbolize the failure of government-sponsored housing and, more broadly, government-sponsorship at large. What happened in Pruitt-Igoe has fueled a mythology repeated in discussions of many urban high-rise projects. Violence, crime, and drugs, so the story goes, plagued the housing project from nearly the beginning as it became a “dumping ground” for the poorest city residents. According to one standard account, it was quickly torn apart by its residents who could not adapt to high-rise city life. Widely circulated images of “Pruitt-Igoe” reveal this legacy. Vandalized hallways. Acres of broken windows. A building imploded. These images of destruction are periodically interrupted by images of a different kind: hopeful images of a massive, newly-built housing complex in the mid-fifties, the scale and grandeur of the buildings reflecting the optimistic spirit out of which Pruitt-Igoe came. The quick, unexamined transition from hope to disillusionment is the standard structure of the Pruitt-Igoe narrative. But there is another Pruitt-Igoe story, another approach. It is a story of a city and its residents. A city in many ways at the forefront of postwar urban decline. In the years of Pruitt-Igoe, St. Louis lost half of its population and most of its prestige in less than a generation.
This deserves reblogs for a lifetime. Utterly tragic.