Some structures clearly have a grand old past, evoked by remnants of fixtures, stained glass, and finish work. Some have a more sordid identity, making it difficult to imagine a new future. Ruminating on building stories — both glorious and sordid — is going to be a new series here on the blog. And, the kick-off will be this tale from a structure often referred to as the Sugar Shack.
The story of the Sugar Shack is a tale of the more sordid variety. And the tour of this building was, perhaps, one of the most unusual I have ever had the pleasure of taking.
Imagine a mid-century strip mall, built in 1951, now entirely sided with corrugated metal, its storefronts lost to time.
If you took this metal-walled building and filled it with sea animal replicas, a largely empty porn video store, a wannabe natural history museum, a working strip club, and odd people living in the nooks and crannies of the rabbit warren of rooms that had been carved out over time, voila, you would have the Sugar Shack.
(Yep, you read that list correctly.)
On the day I took a tour of these fine facilities, we thankfully set out to look at the building prior to the adult entertainment business actually opening to the public. It began in the seafood restaurant. We filed into its darkened recesses, one after another. As my eyes adjusted, I gasped when images came into focus and I could make sense of them.
“Is that a beluga whale over there?”
The room was filled with all manner of creatures from the deep blue sea — on tables, on the floor, and still hanging from the ceiling. It was eerie in the gloom, and we had to be careful not to trip over said sea life as we traipsed around the room.
We then stepped through to the strip club, poised to begin operation for the day, replete with disco ball, low lighting, and tired interior.
The walkthrough also included areas that showed how the internet killed brick & mortar pornography, including an abandoned adult video store and little used lap dance studios.
Once again, we found ourselves in the dark, no natural light intruded upon this area of the building. It had a musty aroma — a combination of the dead animals and wood chips that were strewn about the floor. The impressive collection of animals was intermittently illuminated by the swinging flashlights and cell phone beams of us tour goers, creating a surreal atmosphere.
This structure has certainly seen some hard days, it has housed some highly illegal activities, and the operators have been investigated by what seemed like every law enforcement agency in existence. But that’s not its entire story. That’s not what this building is, nor is it what this building has to be.
You see, the community took this building back when it was purchased recently by a group of area non-profits, and they are working now to consider what it can be, and determining how it can tell new stories — stories of hope, stories of jobs, stories of activity — stories that are good for the neighborhood.
I, for one, am very excited about the next chapter of the building formerly known as the Sugar Shack.
Crossposted at Civilis Consultants
All photos by author