Designing From Scratch – Silver Spring Library

Two things stand out from the public meetings held to plan a new Silver Spring Library. One, the interesting permutations we tested, and two, the analysis that helped determine the direction arrived at collectively–and in public. RTKL largely developed the options and prepared the presentations; we at Lukmire worked with the librarians to develop their building program and provided the options’ analysis.

When you hear of how contentious public participation can sometimes be–and I won’t say we didn’t have our issues–I’d like you to see a process that in fact worked well.

That evening in November, we presented eight options for discussion, 1a, 1b, 1c, 3, 4, 5, 6a & 6b. Option 2 had been dropped, and both 1 and 6 had grown variations.

Our audience listened patiently as we went through them all. From the previous meetings, people were familiar with some but not all, and had debated the criteria. The library’s website reported the progress as well, which helped folks familiarize themselves. I was impressed by both their patience and their interest.

Public officials more often than not are reluctant to bring citizens into the actual sausage making because it’s just as messy as the expression. And they have little faith in the outcome. However, this is how you get a community wholeheartedly behind a project.

Back at Yale, my mentor in public ‘charrettes’ as we like to call them, was Charlie Moore. At the time I assumed it was his fame and ‘just folks’ persona that won over his audiences—which I’m sure would make him smile. In fact, it is because if you bring people along candidly, letting them have their say, answering their questions, and simply laying out the issues, they will as a body come to a consensus.

A few come bearing agendas and refuse to come off from them. Others bring agendas and along the line come around–and these are the ones who help sway others. The majority will hear you out, offer insight, and generally think it’s more important to get it right. Swear to god.

Options 1a, 1b & 1c 

The general organization for all three variations was similar–and became the basis for the final design of the building.

Option 1a placed a fast in-out first floor Library space, then three floors of library topped with two floors of an art center. The future residential project would occupy two-thirds of the site (being the larger project. Both parts would extend over the train tracks, leaving a narrowed edge along Fenton Street for public space.

Option 1a implied a single mass composed of the combined library/art center/residential building would be a single, sweeping curve from Fenton to Bonifant.

3D image by RTKL, © 2008

Option 1b This variant introduced a narrow space between library/art center and the residential building. The form implied two distinct masses.

3D image by RTKL, © 2008

Option 1c This variant pulled the residential building to behind the train tracks, creating a modest ‘vest pocket’ park at Fenton and Bonifant. It also flipped the library and arts levels, raising the library to the third floor with a single entrance from Fenton Street.

3D image by RTKL, © 2008

Option 3 was another single mass, only this time with a major part of library extended across the entire footprint testing what, if any, advantages might be derived from a wholly integrated, mixed-use building (as strongly argued for by the County’s Planning Director, Rollin Stanley) A vest pocket park was shown on Wayne Avenue.

3D image by RTKL, © 2008

Option 4 placed the library on the narrower side of the train tracks and a combined art center/residential building on the larger side. The option suggested an arching skylight joining the two parts overtop of the future Purple Line Station–somewhat the same idea as the Osaka, Japan train station. An interesting urban design, but it required a five story library, a singularly bad idea from an operational viewpoint.

3D image by RTKL, © 2008

Option 5 offered two small library floors followed by a large 3rd floor. We (Lukmire and librarians) were skeptical it could be made to work functionally. The option called for a single, combined facility as in Option 3. It improved on the size of the public park in Option 1c.

3D image by RTKL, © 2008

Option 6a flipped the library/arts center with the residential building, the latter fronting on Wayne Avenue. The principal advantage was gaining enough floor area for the library to fit on two floors–the holy grail for the librarians. the option’s principal disadvantage was that it removed the library from Wayne Avenue and direct access to the Wayne Avenue Garage.

3D image by RTKL, © 2008

Option 6b took the same idea, but extended the residential portion overtop of the library floors. Another scheme requiring the entire project be built at one time.

3D image by RTKL, © 2008

How Did They Rank?

The ‘committee’ of citizens, staff and consultants settled on 39 criteria, variations of which had been discussed. Each criterion received a weight of importance, separate from the options. Then we scored each options against the criteria, not against each other, the idea being to minimize inherent bias. It would be impossible to directly measure the disparate criteria against each other, say, cost vs. schedule, vs. library function, but if one option was more expensive than another, it could be reflected in the total score. In all, 312 measurements of the 8 options. Criteria are listed at the left.

Spreadsheet images by the Lukmire Partnership, © 2008

Option 1c and Option 6a came to a virtual tie. 6a scored first (at 363) and 1c scored second (at 357); 6a scored higher on library function (2 vs. 3 floors was no surprise) but 1c scored higher on urban design and much higher on cost and a realistic schedule. The County was counting on a private developer to build the residential component, but weren’t going to wait; they had a building to be built.

Option 1c We had our option–and a challenge to get to a functioning library to work on three floors.

Designing From Scratch – Silver Spring Library

The previous library was on Colesville Road leaving downtown Silver Spring. Built in 1957. A nice enough building, if too small for the needs of the community. Through the public hearings we’d developed a library building program nearly four times larger, and the existing building, while it had its charm, was an awkward fit with the lower level being half in-ground. What earlier debates the County had, discussing whether to attempt an addition to the existing facility, were closed out by the inclusion of the additional 180,000 SF housing component.

The County Exec had a vision. In the greater Washington area, affordable housing has been a problem for decades as the area grew–wealthier–more professional–less interested to hear of relief for the working class–even for teachers, firefighters and police. Montgomery County struggles with the problem as much as any. But Ike Leggett intended to make a go at it. And the result was the original library site would not be large enough.

This was an urban design problem to chase away laggard thoughts of ‘just another project.’

The County planners came from a group known by the mouthful as the Maryland National Capital Park and Planning Commission, an equally complicated hydra involving both Montgomery and Prince Georges’ Counties. If you study a map of Washington, Montgomery and Prince Georges’ are the immediate Maryland borders to the District, so I suppose the agency’s name fits.

And the chief planner, boy did he have ideas for how we were to proceed—directives—more like commandments from above. We were perfectly willing to sit down with the planners; we’d always worked with planning departments and didn’t like being at odds with them. We (the Lukmire Partnership) had previously developed a master plan for the Arlington County’s courthouse sector plan, acting as County staff extenders.

But Rollin Stanley strides in, trailed closely by a fresh faced acolyte who’d been chiseling the director’s plans like Moses onto stone tablets. Stanley’s vision was a mixed-use, all-in-one facility that reminded me of 1960s urban renewal. The problem was, as we tried to explain, the residential component was to be a private development, the library was the County’s to fund, and the Purple Line station was the State of Maryland’s and none were on the same schedule. None of which seemed to dim his vision.

In the event, we proceeded by politely ignoring him.

We heard the County Exec wanted a design statement, and it needed completing before the election. Leggett’s man in charge of DGS, David Dise, wanted a design statement because his boss did. This is how things work in the public sector. We’d already been on a furious scramble meeting deadlines from the beginning. Every two weeks we were attending staff meetings preparing for public meetings, followed by staff meetings, emails and conference calls.

Brian could scarcely finish one presentation before the next one came along. Sketchup and Kerkythea with some AutoCAD in the background—and reams of bumwad sketches from his boss—”Let’s try this…”

A Brief Course in Architectural Theory

Until recently, the history of architecture in the West has been largely based on orthogonal geometries. Frank Gehry has spent his career (and treasure chests of his clients’ money) on resisting rectangular forms, an artiste of the first order according to Gehry.

Not that Gehry was the first–Frank Lloyd Wright, Le Corbusier, to name two famous Western architects, experimented with non-orthogonal buildings–Wright’s Guggenheim in New York City, Le Corbusier’s Notre-Dame du Haut in Ronchamp, France. Ronchamp Chapel had to be on Gehry’s shortlist of references when he designed his own Guggenheim.

And if you squint, you might see Dulles Airport in the flying wing of the roof, designed by an early hero of mine, Eero Saarinen.

Ronchamp Chapel—photo by Valueyou, 2008

Original Dulles terminal—photo by Roger Wollstadt, 1970

Getting Into the Weeds

In our meetings, Parker Hamilton, Director of Libraries, kept returning to her biggest question: how would library patrons be enticed to find their way from the street to a front door three-story in the air? Not a trivial question, given that no one had tried this trick of elevating a public library before.

I’d furiously nod, “Absolutely!” hoping to figure it out before I had to face her again.

I wished I’d had spent more time with her in casual conversation. We’d spoken briefly at the Germantown Library opening where I’d learned she grew up not far away in South Carolina, if under hardships I’d never lived through.

Parker was an intriguing person I never really got to know–from South Carolina so we might could have been neighbors–and she had that charming style about her–learned from her black southern roots.

When she was a girl, Jim Crow laws kept her from libraries. She grew to run them by John Kelley, Washington Post. If you see the photo from Kelley's article, you’ve seen the girl’s eyes!

To design a multi-story building, some basic components are required: vertical circulation (stairs, elevators, escalators) and a structural frame. These must not be discontinuous–most people frown on elevators that aren’t vertical, for example. And the vertical circulation elements should be within view of the front door–I suppose it’s just tradition. As for structure, even birds like nests to last the season.

If, as decided in the public meetings, the library/art center was to have two front doors, one for Wayne Avenue and the second along Fenton Street, two separate vertical circulation cores were required. It’s in the rule book. And wherever space for the service core was found, a loading dock for the dumpsters was also required, preferably not next to the front door–another tradition.

Once when ‘beam me up’ transporters and levitation suits become more commonplace, we may rid ourselves of elevators—such past-century complications.

We began designing the floor plans with a structural grid aligned to the streetcar tracks. If we were going to clear span the entire width of the train station, aligning the building structure would create the shortest spans, though it bugged us to be slavishly tied to the Purple Line.

The Wayne Avenue façade and entrance were primary, with the bridge to the garage overhead. Somehow the public felt only escalators would do for the Fenton Street entrance; to be ADA compliant however this entrance required elevators for the disabled. And a third service core was to be accessed from the proposed service alley along the western property line–the alley also to service the residential building. Though as the floor plans clearly show, nothing resembling an orthogonal shape would be large enough to fit the library. I’ve always been comfortable with irregular shaped sites, and this was surely one.

Images by the Lukmire Partnership, © 2009

Images by Brian Essig, Lukmire Partnership, © 2009

By June, we’d gotten further into the weeds. The library program had been approved. The first two floors, being small enough to stay clear of the transit station, were assigned to the art center. Spanning over the station, floors 3, 4 & 5 were for the Library with 6 & 7 to be determined. We had placeholders for an arts center based on discussions with a local non-profit group, and we’d held preliminary meetings with MDTA on the transit station.

At the first meeting with MDTA, from my Metro days I expected to be bored by the big iron transit engineers—however I smiled when this older dude from the other end of the long table announced himself. Back when I’d arrived from Miami, Bill Gallagher sat one row up from me at Harry Weese & Associates,. And soon after I’d left, he had as well; he was going for a Masters in Architecture at this so-so design school in Cambridge, MA.

Life is short, but it’s sweet sometimes.

Diagonals Shouldn’t Be Disregarded  

First, recall the bit about Newton’s first law of gravity and high school geometry. Square vs. rectangular to sculptural infinity. And the fact nothing on this site was orthogonal. Nuttin.

Some things are plumb; nothing’s level–a carpenter’s philosophy I ascribe to.

As I studied the ever-evolving options, seeing that diagonally tortured structural grid really bugged me. Given a site where a whimsical engineer had run diagonal tracks across it was bad enough, but to yield the guts of the design to it? Had to be something better. So I began toying with using Wayne Avenue as the building’s primary orientation.

We needed to get serious about the structural grid, was it square, rectangular? At some point we needed a sit-down with the structural engineer and sky hooks weren’t an option. In the modern age, span = money; shorter means less and longer more of it. In all times, shorter is safer when considering gravity. Today it’s all about the steel–longer spans mean deeper beams, thicker columns and more steel tonnage.

Thirty-foot spaced columns (those vertical obstacles everyone but structural engineers hate) yield planning modules of five or six feet. Traditionally five feet allows for two-foot double-faced book stacks plus a bare minimum three-foot aisles. We’d been preaching six foot modules allowing for four-foot aisles, less efficient if you want to pack a book collection, but way improved for patron comfort–and marketing the library materials. For all the aspiring library architects, the secret’s out.

OK, so thirty feet. But what if in the other direction we were to go longer, say forty feet? More flexibility. And a 30’ x 40’ grid produced a 50’ diagonal, i.e. 3:4:5 ratio. Huh.

Hand drafting a 30 x 40 pencil grid over a base plan that including those offensive diagonal train tracks, then laying my bumwad (aka white sketch paper) overtop, I found that the 3:4:5 diagonal lay within a fraction of a degree of matching the track diagonal. Turning to my workstation and checking it against the civil engineering AutoCAD file confirmed it. I had a building geometry that related to the primary street and at the same time the train tracks. I walked around humming to myself all day. Who says sometimes you can’t get lucky?

We were still in the throes of understanding how an electric streetcar (with overhead high voltage catenary) was to tuck in under a library, and how might said library animate the street scene and work as a functioning library three floors up? Not to mention the yet-undefined programs for an art center and County Health and Human Services offices.

We’d been meeting with DGS staff through the entire process, and occasionally with David Dise himself. At one such confab, he looked down the long conference room table and asked, “were we up to designing something memorable?” Were we up for that? He was kidding, right? Most public servants want competence, budget-mindedness, and most of all not to be embarrassed. Dise wanted glory for his boss.
But of course we still needed to keep to the budget–and keep to the schedule. Rotating fans? Oh, say no more.

We’d been commissioned to design a high-rise library, art center and HHS offices, accommodate the yet to be designed Purple Line station, and provide a functioning second site plan for another as-of-yet not designed housing project with underground parking separate from the library such that it could be built later. And make it memorable.

Hell, if Dise had asked me, it was already memorable.

And Rollin Stanley was still yelping about providing on-site parking for the library instead of using the already-built Wayne Avenue Garage. Because? He never explained the necessity–like why is Moses’s third commandment about graven images? What’s graven, anyway–past tense of grooving?

We’d tried to make clear to David that the 3D images we’d been showing were not much beyond block diagrams–not actual designs–and the public at the meetings seemed OK with that explanation. Evidently someone higher-up was getting nervous. Nervousness always flows downstream. But man, had we been cut loose to design! God bless David Dise, wherever he may be tonight.

Brian and I had our mission statement.

Structural Rules 

Randy Haist, of Columbia Engineering was our structural engineer. He’d spent a career dealing with wacky architects, so he wasn’t shocked when he met me. We had begun biweekly meetings to work through the technical problems, the first being the site’s poor soil, discovered during the geotechnical explorations implying deep foundations, and the second–how would we span over the Purple Line station. They hadn’t designed it yet, but gave it a name, Library Station. Cute.

Closeup perspective—image by Brian Essig, Lukmire Partnership, © 2009

If you study the image, you’ll see three spindly columns awkwardly landing on the outbound side of the station. Something had to support the Fenton Street mass. The column closest to the intersection might well get whacked by a bus. But as clunky as was the mass itself, supporting it on relative toothpicks made it look like an elephant in tutu. And the Fenton Street entrance looked like a platypus duck–those are technical design terms.

Gathered around the conference room table, drawings strewn across it, and more on the floor, Brian, Randy and I—Susanne Churchill, the County’s project manager, attending as well.

“So what if we cantilever the last bays out over the tracks? It would clear the tracks and eliminate the awkward columns.” It would also make one hell of a design statement. You want memorable?

Randy should have been a professional poker player. He didn’t flinch at the idea, nor dig for reasons to avoid the work. “We’ll need full-story trusses to hang the three library levels.”

“Should the trusses go above the roof?”

“Could they be integrated into the fifth floor?”

“That’s the children’s floor. Do you think we could leave the trusses exposed to view for the munchkins to climb?”

“Can we pull the sixth and seventh office floors back off the cantilever? They would help for counterweights.”

“We can do anything right now–we don’t have a program for those floors.”

“How are we going to ship these trusses though downtown Silver Spring?”

When I said something like, “We can leave that for later,” I think I saw Randy shake his head. Details, details.

“Where does that leave the Fenton Street entrance?” Brian was getting tired of being optioned to death.

“I’m going to design a separate glass pavilion for the escalators and bring it up against the larger mass as a counterfoil.” What I was thinking was ‘glad we’re working with a smart engineer and I hope Brian doesn’t quit.’

When the session was done, I cleared off my drafting station, took out a large roll of bumwad, found my two-foot beam compass for drawing major arcs, and set to work. Like a slow dog with a keen nose.

Nighttime perspective–image by Brian Essig, Lukmire Partnership, © 2009