August 23, 2009
BY HEDY WEISS

I''ve been dreaming about the old U.S. Post Office for weeks now. The gargantuan one. The historic megalith that bestrides the Eisenhower Expy., overlooks the Chicago River and has a train system running beneath it. That 14-story structure with 2.7 million square feet of space — a building that auctioneer Rick Levin plans to sell to the highest bidder here on Thursday.

The starting bid? Just $300,000 (with estimated costs of $2.5 million annually for security, maintenance and utilities, and an unspecified sum for property taxes).

 The old U.S. Post Office will be sold to the highest bidder on Thursday.
 (Brian Jackson/Sun-Times)

Ladies and gentlemen, pull out your checkbooks. But before you do, steel yourself for a whole lot of reading. The "information packet" for the sale, which contains all the available archives on the building, comes in three legal-size boxes and costs $500.

Countless suggestions have been offered for the possible adaptation and re-use of the building — from a giant downtown casino and hotel complex to a mausoleum. The eternal question is this: How can you make money on this elephantine piece of property — a stone pile whose "historic" status is open to all sorts of interpretations and would make even the thought of turning it into "a teardown" a veritable nightmare?

I think I have an answer. It should warm the hearts of all those who believe in the importance of the green revolution and the necessity of water-reclamation projects.

It should excite all those who dream of having a plot of land that might rival Michelle Obama's White House kitchen garden.

It should intrigue all those who believe we should start thinking more seriously about "eating local."

And it should cheer all those who would like to see Chicago live up to its motto, "Urbs in Horto" ("City in a Garden") in a way that would attract the attention of the whole world, with an impact far greater and more enduring than any single summer Olympics.

Here's the plan: Have the federal government declare the building a tax-free innovation zone and turn it into a vast new national lab dedicated to the propagation, experimentation and support of all things green. Replace the roof with solar panels. Devise a water-reclamation and irrigation system that could operate throughout the building. Set up headquarters for a program dedicated to protecting and defending the entire Great Lakes region. And perhaps most alluring of all, take advantage of the building's unique weight-bearing construction to support a vast collection of indoor gardens that could be "rented out" for minimal fees (and on a sliding scale) to landless city dwellers. Schools — from local grade schools to universities around the globe — should be invited to be part of the mix. Scientists, architects, engineers and artists also should come on board.

Entice startups involved in green industries to locate in the building. Get local food wholesalers and major retailers to subsidize the growth of special produce that would not need to be hauled over long distances and could feed the city for less. Devote an entire wing of the building to creating an indoor "tropical rainforest" environment that might become the source of crucial pharmaceutical ingredients. (And no, I'm not talking about a giant marijuana farm.)

While brainstorming recently over dinner with several friends, including a Chicago architect, planner and developer who prefers not to be named here, more suggestions for the building came into play. He thought the Post Office would be an ideal spot for the Children's Museum (gardens and all), now that the controversial plans for a Grant Park site seem stalled. And he talked about a groundbreaking project called GreenPix that already exists in Beijing and could be adapted to the western and eastern facades of the building. (Using sustainable and digital media technology, GreenPix is a huge color LED display for a building's curtain wall that operates as a self-sufficient organic system, "harvesting solar energy by day and using it to illuminate the screen after dark.") A program of changing installations could attract media artists from around the globe and become the city's latest attraction.

Of course, I can hear the chorus of naysayers already.

"The city is not a farm," they'll say, listing all the potential problems, from the need for policing to a whole range of health and sanitation issues.

And then will come that most unimaginative of all questions: Will it make money? To which there is only this answer: It will be a job creator, an attention-getter, a tremendously innovative engine for the future.

The real question is this: Where is Chicago's 21st century Daniel Burnham when we need him most?

Hedy Weiss is the Sun-Times' theater and dance critic.