Our history
We first spied the old Theta Chi fraternity (now KPA) when it been closed over a year for six pages of housing code violations. It was such a mess that all I wanted to do after my first foray inside was take a shower. I remember sitting on the front lawn of the abandoned building and dreaming. And sitting up in bed almost in a panic, convinced that this thing had to happen.
Abandoned.
I remember during another venture inside the boarded building all of us running back down the stairs chased by a flock of birds who had taken up residence in the top floors, Katie Wingard (who along with her husband Matt became the first “house parents” of KPA) was screaming as we ran which freaked me out even more.
I shared the idea of creating a coffee house community in the building with a small group of friends, and we prayed together about it. MaryJoe Gansmoe mentioned the verse from the Bible where Jesus said: “I will open a door that no one can shut, and I will close a door that no one can open” (rough translation from Revelation 3:7).
That seemed like a good thought to us. On the one hand, it seemed unlikely that we would get the building…no money…other interested parties. On the other hand, it was a daunting project. We didn’t want it if we were on our own (We knew we needed divine help!).
We put in an offer on the house. We were in the running, but about a month later we got a call. They went with another offer.
End of story.
End of the Story?
About a year later we got a call. “The other deal had fallen through. Were we still interested?”
Absolutely! We put together an offer equal to the asking price and received a verbal commitment to sell the building to us. Then the phone calls stopped. About a month later, we got the word. They again went with another offer. End of story. Again.
Another year passed, and we got another call, “The other deal fell through. We’re sorry about last time. Are you still interested?” We thought and prayed and put in another offer equal to the asking price. Again, the phone calls stopped. Again we got the word. “We went with another offer.”
This time the deal went through. The building was sold, boarded up and prepared for demolition to make way for a larger complex.
For the next year and a half every time I drove past 16th and University I would look over my shoulder at the building and wonder “Why haven’t they torn that thing down yet?!” I wanted them to get it over with so I could forget about it.
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“You Might Be Interested In This.” (the story continues)
You might be interested in this...
A year and a half later I was handed a letter as a friend said: “You might be interested in this.” The letter was from the Historic Preservation Commission stating that the entire fraternity row area was being considered for historic designation. I thought “They are not going to tear that baby down!”
We pursued the new owners and got first in line to buy. We had a letter of commitment.
We had the financing. We were ready to go. However, we couldn’t get insurance. No one wanted to insure a building that had been abandoned now for almost five years. Without insurance, our financing could not be released.
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I went to one bank closing waiting for the miracle fax with our insurance binder. It didn’t happen. Finally, the seller gave us until one particular Thursday to come up with the money or they were going to sell the building to someone else. Wednesday night Barb and I went to the midnight opening of The Two Towers with friends. Even in real life, it felt like the Orcs were coming over the walls. I had called every person I knew asking if they knew anyone in the insurance business who could help us get coverage. We were about to lose it again. Thursday evening found me driving to yet another person’s office to go through their contact list looking for an insurance connection.
Call from a friend.
As I pulled into the parking lot, I got a call from a friend asking me how it was going with the building. "Not good," I lamented and then I walked through all the futile steps we had taken so far. He listened, then said, “It looks like you’re going to have to close tomorrow.” Thinking he hadn’t understood, I started to repeat all the steps we had taken. We had done everything we could. He cut me off saying “It looks like you’re going to have to close tomorrow. “I’ll wire you the money out of my account.” So we closed the deal with $300, 000 cash from a friend and no insurance.
In the early stages of renovation, the building was almost burned down during the 2003 hockey “riots.” A group of revelers broke in and were chanting “Torch it! Torch it!” The guys from Sigma Nu, the fraternity next door chased them out with baseball bats.
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Hundreds of volunteers carried out tons of debris… old mattresses, clothes, garbage. They tore out old walls and warped floors. We put in all new windows, plumbing, electrical, roof, sprinklers (thanks Olson Fire!) The bird dung was up to four inches deep in places. At one point you could see all the way from the library on the first floor to the sky…three stories up.
It was a hair-raising, arduous, joyous process. Sometimes I’d look at bulging walls we hadn’t opened up yet and feel sick to my stomach. My kids loved smashing through walls.
More than once I said: “God, if you get us out of this hole (one of our many crises when things looked totally impossible), I’ll believe you can do anything.” In the end, we could see, that he had indeed opened a door for us…a door that mere circumstances like money and insurance and mobs couldn’t close. And no one is more amazed by the crazy process than me and Barbara. I guess God likes creating last minute, “looks like you’re going to lose until the end” stories. - Greg
