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A Whole New Ballgame

Continued from page 2

Most of Stubbs' communiqués address the structure of the opera house and his plans for relocating it. He describes a web of thick steel cables that will support Kiel's ground floor, "analagous to a tennis racquet or snowshoe." These will facilitate the use of hydraulic jacks to lift the structure from its foundation, thread it onto I-beams, ease it onto a set of 85 hydraulic dollies and roll it down Market Street.

"Really," Stubbs writes, "the only tricky part will be that right turn down by the steakhouse."

When Pulitzer writes to thank him for his efforts, Stubbs replies with modesty: "Pleasure is all mine. [Kiel is p]erhaps the most beautiful building I have ever seen. It will be a shining beacon for downtown."

He closes by assuring Ballpark Village's benefactor that the Kiel move is "definitely a go." Writes Stubbs: "It's the same as moving a doublewide, but on a larger scale. Hell, while we're at it we may just toss 'Twain' on the pile on the way. No extra charge!"

I don't see the point of moving all that paperwork downtown," Eddy Bale, curator of the Stanley Elkin Archives, grouses in an e-mail addressed to Emily Pulitzer.

The archive, which was created to house the prodigious papers of the late novelist and Parkview resident, is housed at Washington University. "Why would we want Cardinals fans getting their greasy hot dog fingerprints all over Stanley's work?"

In response Pulitzer called for backup — in the form of novelist, critic and former Elkin neighbor and colleague William H. Gass. Correspondence among the three reveals Pulitzer's hope to bring Gass' papers under Ballpark Village's aegis, as well as those of fellow U. City literary lions Howard Nemerov, Mona Van Duyn and Donald Finkel and Constance Urdang. (In the interest of full disclosure, Finkel and Urdang are the parents of Riverfront Times editor Tom Finkel.)

For the time being, however, Mike Shannon is proving a harder sell.

"At least give me a Cabo Wabo Cantina — something," Shannon writes in an e-mail dated October 12, the day the Cardinals commenced the 2006 National League Championship Series in New York against the Mets.

Shannon's e-mail points out that Gehry's predilection for steel surfaces does not merely clash aesthetically with the "masterpiece that is the new Busch" — there are functional concerns as well.

"Did you people ever consider the hitting background?" Shannon asks rhetorically. "Here you got an open stadium and your saying you want to put a MIRROR right out in center field?!!

"Look, I'm a straight shooter. Bottom line: I spent a couple million fully expecting that I would be neighbors with an ESPN Zone. I was told: 'red brick' and 'classic, conservatively Victorian buildings.' Whatever the hell that means. Like the look of Old St. Louis. You know. Musial. Dizzy Dean. Gibby. A 'Ballpark Village' should be someplace you can play stickball in, not watch men prancing around in tight pants at the Opera.

"I will have an opera house between me and my Cardinals," Shannon concludes. "Think about it: A goddam opera house. I was promised an ESPN Zone, and I get this?"

Upon being forwarded Shannon's e-mail by Pulitzer, Gehry fired back.

"An ESPN Zone is for drunks in the gutter," the architect writes. "Not for a New St. Louis."

The new Busch Stadium, Gehry adds, "is not architecture. It is mimicry. It is safe, and cloying, and an insult to St. Louis."

That e-mail thread, the most recent in the cache obtained by the Riverfront Times, ends with this from Frank Gehry:

"This project is literally in the shadow of the Arch — one of the great public sculptures IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD. Why would anyone want such VULGARITY in such proximity to PERFECTION?"

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