Buffalo Spree Magazine

The Buehl Block is Alive!

By Barry A. Muskat
photos by Jim Bush

The interior of the Buehl Block.

Charles Burchfield chronicled the urban scene in unpretentiously complex paintings. Rainy Day, his famous Depression-era watercolor, brings a hauntingly somber view of the streetscape at the intersection of Broadway and Ellicott. Over the course of the next half century, the site would deteriorate to become even more depressed and somber. Now, after decades of decay, possible demolition, and a general lack of appreciation (in both senses of the word—the awareness of merit and the increase of financial value) the situation has been reversed. Threats of demolition are gone and the building has been infused with new life

Buffalo is experiencing record-breaking new construction, as well as the rebirth of older structures—one building at a time. The soul of the city is preserved with the adaptive re-use of these structures. Wonderful old buildings are finally being recognized as assets, not liabilities, as they are rehabilitated for uses not envisioned by their original owners. For this reason, though exteriors usually stay much the same, the internal spaces often require radical transformations.

The exterior of the Buehl Block.

There are certain projects that I believe are particularly important. The Statler is the largest—even though there is unfortunately still not much evidence of progress discernable from the exterior. Because of its scale and location, the Statler renovation is of huge significance to the city. It’s a building that is emblematic of an era of elegant living, a thriving downtown scene, and the city’s most prosperous decades. Coupled with the eagerly-anticipated Federal Court House, the project has the power to change the entire complexion of Niagara Square and downtown.

Other adaptive reuse projects are on a much smaller scale, yet the buildings are icons in themselves making them very important in the City streetscape. The Mansion on Delaware (the former Victor Hugo Restaurant) is probably the best example—an 1860’s Second Empire mansion that faced demolition and was restored to operate as what is now a nationally-recognized luxury hotel. The Granite Works is another—derelict brick storefronts on Main and Virginia that were dramatically rescued and then rehabbed into upscale rental properties. These are projects that may be too small for the big developers, but they require substantial dedication, financial, and emotional investment. They’re large enough to pack a powerful punch that can have a generative impact upon their immediate surroundings.

The Buehl Block is one of those small but meaningful rehabs. It could easily have been lost. Burchfield’s painting shows a building staring through blind windows, which were subsequently boarded. With the exception of a pawn shop (which vacated in the 1980s), the building has been empty since the mid 1960s. The most recent demolition threat came when the location achieved front-runner status as the favored site for a new convention center.

R. Roger Trettel appeared on the scene with perfect timing. He had a vision for the building and with its purchase began a project that actually incorporates two structures, the mansard-roofed building at the corner (36 Broadway) and the building just to its north (285 Ellicott). He built a lobby between the two adjacent structures so that the new shared entry is on Ellicott Street. It’s a great location (diagonally opposite the back door of the Lafayette Library and looking out on Bethune’s Lafayette Hotel).

Unlike a project like The Mansion (which was painstakingly restored and done in compliance to Secretary of Interior Standards) this renovation was done “in the spirit” of the official standards. Despite it being the focus of the Burchfield painting, the Buehl Block had never been designated as a Landmark and is not located in one of the city’s Preservation Districts. It therefore escaped intense scrutiny during its renovation. From a practical point of view, that meant the windows didn’t have to be replaced “in kind” or the necessity to adhere to other strict guidelines.

However, the developer echoed the proportions of the original double-hung windows in the replacement units and was able to use his own good eye and judgment, working with his architect (Richard Peebles of Fredonia). In addition to mercantile space at ground level, they’ve created five luxury apartments. From a purist’s point of view, this can’t be called a restoration. To view the new space as a success, you’ll need to think in terms of loft living as opposed to restored Victorian grandeur.

The apartments are fun and funky, have interesting layouts, and their quality aims to be upscale. What the planners did best was to use the great walls of windows to their maximum advantage. The spaces are as open as can be, even if they’re longer and narrower than you might have envisioned. The tall double-hung windows flood the rooms with natural light; the long spans allow for uninterrupted views.

The building is actually a flatiron shape, so there are lots of angles and very few true ninety-degree corners. Poetic and architectural license was taken to best use the space, yielding lots of obscure corners, nooks, and crannies that add interest to the non-traditional room shapes.

Three of the apartments are bi-level, with kitchen and living room on the first floor and second-floor bedrooms that are accessed by newly-crafted industrial stairways. Rectilinear steel frames take up more floor space than spiral stairways but have none of their inherent dangers, and their beefy recycled hickory treads handsomely allow for sure-footed ascent and descent.

The design components are an eclectic mix of woods and styles which somehow congeal into an effective blend. Recycled doors were acquired from an assortment of sources—such as a demolished church and an abandoned hotel. Some Gothic, some industrial, they are all heavy, solid core doors, feeling substantial to the touch. Most of the hardware is new reproduction, much of it heavy and art deco in style.

Inside, the walls that are exterior have been insulated and dry-walled. Large sections of brick have been left exposed, with entire lengths of the interior walls showing their original brick.

Although the building originally had more that twenty fireplaces and stoves, they’ve all disappeared. In their place, recycled fireplace mantels and surrounds are used as a focal element in each apartment, standing against brick walls. Part of the interest of these apartments is the ability to read the history of the walls by examining their brick patterns, noting spots that have been infilled and repaired over the building’s lifetime.

The building complies with current codes and is fully-sprinklered. It’s wired, piped, and metered with separate utilities for each apartment, allowing for possible conversion to condominiums in the future. While it’s now a walk-up, the elevator shaft has been saved (along with the original gates) for future installation as demand and finances allow.

Each kitchen features cherry cabinets, different granite countertops, and stainless steel appliances. Each has a full bath and a powder room, with the largest having two and a half baths. The powder rooms are generously-sized. The full baths include freestanding shower units that combine a whirlpool tub with a wall of multi-head showerheads that wash, spritz, rain, and massage, adding contemporary indulgence to period ambience. Each apartment also includes a washer and dryer.

The developer’s biggest setback during construction was the discovery that many of the roof supports were removed when a row of chimneys on the Ellicott side of the building were eliminated by a previous owner. The roof was supported solely by lathe and plaster. Structural engineers needed to redesign a proper support system for the new roof—and quickly.

Despite all the renovations, much of the flooring, base, and crown moldings throughout the building are original. Woods appear to be a combination of original yellow pine, hemlock, and white pine. Some boards are wide, some narrow, but nearly all are original, with some infill of new material. Whereas the tendency of most contractors might be to replace or repair using uniform widths, the beauty in these floors is the original fabric, and the non-matching sections add to the general ambience and charm.

Trettel’s vision “to bring the corner alive” will be more fully realized when the Rainy Night Coffee House opens on the ground floor. Watch for it.

Barry A. Muskat is Buffalo Spree’s Architecture Critic. He suggests that the next artist who captures the scene might do best to wait for a Sunny Day.

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