formusa's building, and its rich history undergoing a slow and agonizing death

mountains of early 20th century lath waiting to be organized and strapped into bundles for reuse as anything and everything. the building is slowly dying, but its remnants will live on elsewhere.

the destruction of a building occurs within a finite, and surprisingly quick time frame, but rarely is salvage such a tidy experience. each demolition spills into life outside the hours of actual wrecking, at first in the form of research to be done (and a period of agonizing over the inevitable destruction), and later in attending to the materials documented. in the event of a consequential discovery- such as a room-sized "time capsule" - this is only intensified, entailing methodically combing through artifacts and deliberating over where artifacts might belong.

the discovery of a depression-era time capsule which preserved a great deal of an italian family’s century-long occupancy at 710 w. grand avenue, led to just this sort of afterlife for the story of the building. when the formusa family (who just last year moved their operations to des plaines), caught wind of the salvage, they naturally got in touch to reclaim some of their family’s belongings. surprisingly they had already rescued much of what existed on the “time capsule” floor, but they still had somehow missed these heirloom-filled trunks, which were so incredible to stumble across. 

aside from the fourth generation of the formusa family getting in contact, the building itself is finally being razed this week. as the lath is ripped from the walls, so is the history of a family that lived and operated there for over a hundred years. I did find out, however, that the building will be painstakingly disassembled in order to recycle building materials (an ecological demolition is similarly happening with the moffat street church, which is soon to be taken apart brick by brick in logan square). the plaster, as well as wood (and anything else for that matter) from the interior and exterior components from the facade, will be recycled into future construction projects big and small. the narrative - beginning in 1898  - will live on through the remnants currently being deconstructed. 

if it has to be done, this unusually methodical and conscientious way of taking apart a building sits a little better than wholesale wreckage which not only neglects the long-lasting soul of the place but ensures its history is forgotten when it gets pushed deep into the landfill. especially for the formusa factory building, it is in some sense cyclical, in that at least the building’s deconstruction will be witnessed at a decidedly slower pace, marked by valuing the individual components of the building -- not to mention, the wreckers will laboriously go through those same motions that were made during construction over 100 years ago.

if demolition and/or a death sentence is handed down to a given structure, i find this to be one of the best approaches to honor the time, labor and resources that went into its construction. documenting the deconstruction is the least i can do to put forth a mutual respect in recognition of the importance of historic buildings and building materials.

small remnants from the past found between floorboards and the cavities enclosed by stud and wall. turn of the century newspaper, buttons, hairpins and the like. some of it mistakenly dropped and forgotten about, while other fragments, including peanut shells were left there by mice who used it for nesting material. by collecting these specimens - big and small - i feel i'm developing a stronger connection to the way the formusa family went about their lives so long ago.