Bricks & Mortar, Heart & Soul
Saving a landmark school in downtown Boise.
A NOTE from Dave — Community history refers to the popular practice of history research and writing in settings outside university history departments, in towns, villages and cities. Community and local history has been characterized by its openness to influences from other disciplines such as archaeology and geography. Its practitioners, like your truly, have sought to investigate regional differences while still practicing local history in general.
The ‘history of the people’, or ‘history from below’ has always fascinated me. It emerged as an alternative to conventional political history, both in terms of its objects of interest and its belief in deep-rooted economic and social factors as agents of historical change.
Names of note from the article:
- Ray Hoobing – Retired Founder of CM Company
- Scott Straubhar – Partner at Hummel Architects
- Ed Daniels – Partner at Hummel Architects
- Ken Anderson – Former Boise High Principal, Idaho Rivers United President, 2010 Idaho Principal of the Year
By Joyce Riha Linik
BOISE, Idaho—In the heart of Boise’s downtown, just a stone’s skip from the state capitol dome, Boise High School has stood its ground for nearly a century. Built in phases between 1906 and 1922, the white brick structure is an impressive example of Classical architecture, complete with Ionic columns and a tympanum featuring a stone-carved Plato. It is a landmark for the thousands of students who have passed through its classrooms, as well as for the many residents who have seen the likes of Duke Ellington and Bing Crosby in its historic auditorium.
Understandably, many were concerned in the early 1990s when the Boise School District considered closing the school’s doors to build elsewhere. No one denied that the school was in a state of disrepair. The wiring was ancient, turning the old school and its antediluvian timbers into a virtual powder keg. The ceiling of the auditorium showed cracks, dangerous not only because of the possibility of a plaster rain, but also because of the potential asbestos hazard it could expose.
In the event of an emergency, the structure did not possess sufficient exiting routes. In short, the building wasn’t close to meeting modern safety codes. But the school district also recognized the implications of closing this downtown school.
Original 2001 article photos by Deborah Hardee
Research shows that older neighborhood schools often serve as community anchors. The closing of such schools can have a detrimental impact on a community, alienating local students who must then be bused to faraway suburban schools, making nearby residential neighborhoods less desirable to families, and lowering property values.” Schools that hold the memories of generations are disappearing,” cautioned the National Trust for Historic Preservation in its recent report, Historic Neighborhood Schools in the Age of Sprawl: Why Johnny Can’t Walk to School. As the report also pointed out, “Schools are part of the glue that holds communities together.” What’s more, the National Trust noted that many historic school buildings house more personalized, “human-scaled” learning programs that are supported by education research.
Boise High’s 1,100 students — typically the district’s most diverse population — include a large number of high achievers. Closing Boise High could have released a blight upon its vital urban community. Recognizing the threat, residents of the historic North End neighborhood adjacent to the school led the charge to save this integral piece of the community’s social fabric. Improving Boise High’s chances for survival was the fact that the district had the foresight, as early as the 1950s, to purchase land surrounding the school as it became available.
This enabled the school to add a football field in earlier years and to provide small spaces for parking as the times changed and more students had access to cars. To further remedy the parking shortage, the school sponsored a contest to come up with creative solutions. These included: partnering with the city bus system to allow students to ride free of charge, improving bicycle storage facilities at the school, and arranging for shared parking with neighboring churches. As a result, these potential barriers were eliminated. In 1995, after several years of intense debate, the school board voted to save Boise High. And last year the National Trust celebrated the newly renovated school as a local success story and a lesson for other communities to take to heart.
Laying the foundation
The plan called for a massive renovation of the original structure, as well as the replacement of a Depression-era industrial arts building next door that couldn’t be salvaged. The renovated “Old Main” would house the humanities classes, including art, drama, language, and history. The new structure would be home to computer, science, and math classes, in addition to a state-of-the-art media center, cafeteria, and auxiliary gymnasium. A budget of $13.5 million was earmarked for the project. “The money came from various sources over a period of time,” says Chuck Tinder, Facility and Operations Administrator for the district, “and was saved in a planned facility fund.”
When an initial bid far exceeded the budget, the city of Boise came to the rescue. With the Boise High renovation in mind, city officials adopted the Uniform Code for Building Conservation (UCBC), an example of what the National Trust calls a “smart code” to encourage the rehabilitation and modernization of historic buildings.” Anytime you compare new construction against old construction, you run into all these fire code and life safety issues,” says Skylar Rubel of Hummel Architects, the firm that took on the Boise High project — and, incidentally, the firm that designed the original structure nearly a century ago. “If this UCBC wouldn’t have come along, there would have been a barrier because it was such a major remodel to bring up to current code, and it would have killed us. But the UCBC came into place for when we got on board, and provided the necessary flexibility to work with the historic structure.”
Another coup was a statute that enabled the city to hire a construction manager for the renovation project. Versus the traditional design-then-build process where one general contractor is hired to take the architects’ plans and run with them, the construction management option allowed the school district to hire Ray Hoobing of CM Company as the middleman who would oversee the project and arrange for subcontractors to contract directly with the district.
This gave the school district more control over budget and scheduling, and eliminated the sometimes adversarial relationship that can develop if a contractor is more concerned with turning profits than adhering to a client’s schedule and budget. “In a very complicated, messy reconstruction project such as this,” Tinder says, “the construction management approach was ideal. It was like getting an extension of my staff, someone on my team. “By all accounts, “team” was the operative word. Hoobing worked closely with architects Rubel, Scott Straubhar, and Ed Daniels throughout planning and building.
Additionally, Boise High Principal Ken Anderson and district representatives were highly involved in the process. “We set the tone at the beginning,” Anderson says, “that this was going to be a cooperative effort.” Even students and teachers took part. A crew of students was hired over the summer to help move furniture. Staff meetings included the architects and builders, and camaraderie resulted.
Multiple stories recount construction workers volunteering to move furniture and materials for teachers to allow them to concentrate on instruction. The crew even built a makeshift stage for the drama teacher when she and her students were left without one on the eve of a production.” What was stressed,” Hoobing says, crediting Anderson’s leadership, “was that we needed to provide decent facilities for the education of the kids. We felt the kids deserved a decent place. So we put our heart and soul into it.”
Scaffolds rising
The renovation of Old Main included: life safety upgrades (i.e., fire sprinklers, fire alarms, smoke detectors, and new exiting routes); accessibility improvements to meet the Americans with Disabilities Act; the installation of new electrical, data/telephone, and lighting systems; and a re-roofing. Additionally, classrooms were reconfigured to provide optimal learning environments; a special area was designed to accommodate special education facilities; the old cafeteria was transformed into an art gallery; and the administrative offices were remodeled. It was a messy business. Years of debris needed to be removed from the old coal shaft, described by Rubel as a “sci-fi” experience.
One electrician nearly had a cardiac arrest when he discovered a body in a pitch-black vent; fortunately, it turned out to be an old Mark Twain mannequin. And there were other challenges, not the least of which was that there were scanty to no records for reference.” One of the biggest challenges for us,” Daniels says, “was that all of the electrical and structural systems were totally unknown.” The building had seen several remodels in the ’40s, ’50s, and ’60s, he notes, “and we had to get in there and figure out how to bring it all up to date, without disrupting the classrooms — that when you pull a switch down here, it doesn’t turn off classrooms on the other end of the building.”
Because work continued during the school year, those classrooms weren’t sitting empty. While the builders worked on one wing or floor of the building, classes were in session down the hall or stairs. As the crew finished with one area and headed for another, staff and students cleared the way with balletlike precision, often moving classes from one room to another overnight. It took incredible teamwork to choreograph the building and class schedules, respectively managed by Hoobing and Anderson. Great care was taken to adhere to set time-tables to avoid disrupting classes.
Not only was the project completed according to schedule, but because the team worked so efficiently together, cost savings made room for several unanticipated extras. A complete restoration of the historic auditorium was one such extra. It turned out that the overhead cracks were not ceiling fractures after all, but tears in a canvas and horsehair matting installed early in the century for acoustics, easily repaired.
While the scaffolding was up, crews removed the boards and wallpaper that had been plastered over the auditorium’s grand arched windows during the energy crisis in the 1970s, and installed sound panels — shaped like the original arched panes — in their place. Other modifications included closing off a third balcony to create a modern control room and meet exiting requirements, as well as installing new lighting and sound systems. Backstage, the antiquated rigging — with its frayed ropes and dangling sandbags — was completely overhauled, and a new catwalk/grid was added.
Another extra, not included in the original plan, was the air conditioning system.” Through a team effort, we generated a savings,” says Hoobing, “not enough to put in a first-class state-of-the-art air conditioning system, but enough that we could find a solution. Is it one of these high-tech, sophisticated control systems? No, it’s not. It’s a big lever in the basement. But it works. “In designing the new technology center next door, Hummel architects faced an obvious challenge. The new structure would need to tie in with the existing school design, blend with the adjacent residential and business districts, and deliver prime learning facilities.
The resulting Frank Church Building of Technology, named after the former Idaho senator who graduated from Boise High in 1942, pays homage to the Classical elements of Old Main, but also adds a contemporary flair to the campus. The structure features a body of brick and windows, topped by a cornice, to mimic the original school’s style. “The columns in front of the media center were also an attempt to tie into the original design,” says Daniels. For a modern touch, the architects incorporated a wheel and spoke concept, centered on a Boise Braves logo with design elements radiating out onto the main plaza — a logical choice given that the school has long served as a hub for the community.
Cornerstones
Reactions to the new-and-improved historic school have been extremely positive.” Community pride has been incredible,” says Liz Horn, an instructor at Boise since 1983. “And teachers are much happier. For years, we were functioning — the top high school in the city — in a dusty old place with faulty wiring and scarred-up desks. Now we’ve got the best of everything. The old building was renovated into something beautiful, and we have a new facility for the kids that we’re really proud of. And the kids are doing even better.”
“I like the style of it and the way things are set up,” says Janean, a junior who works in the new media center. She has heard stories about the library’s former location in the dreary basement of Old Main, frequented by leaks and even the occasional stray cat falling through old ceiling vents. “This is much, much, much better.” The 16-year-old adds that she can’t imagine what life was like before the computer labs were added. “Oh-my-God, are those important! Especially for kids who don’t have them at home.” Though Janean admits she has access to a home computer, she says she’d rather spend time at school. It’s easy to see why. Boise High has that effect on people.
Perhaps it’s because the building is a living museum, with its historic photos of old schoolmasters and 20th century war memorials lining the hallways, or its sculpted muse watching over the old stage. One can almost see the ghosts of yore dipping their quill pens into inkwells or shoveling coal into the titanic furnaces in the basement. Or perhaps it’s something else. “Of course, new construction is nice,” Anderson notes, “but it just doesn’t have the personality of the old high school.”