On Easter Sunday of this year, the Fifth Ward Meetinghouse at 740 S. 300 West was partially torn down on orders from some shadowy LLC. The demolition was stopped before the entire building was flattened because the property owners, whoever they are, didn't get a permit.
Then, people began losing their minds over a 1910 structure they hadn't thought about or even noticed in decades. "How dare some greedheads raze this historic landmark I wasn't even aware of until I saw the carnage on Instagram?"
Actually, partial carnage: Only the front entryway was ripped down—the back portion of the building still stands. According to legalities floated around by various local news outlets, Greedhead LLC could be responsible for restoring the facade, but that's never going to happen. The rest of the Meetinghouse is eventually coming down, but not before more hand-wringing from overnight architecture experts.
I walked through that entryway dozens of times in the '90s when it was a live music venue called The Pompadour. I saw Nirvana (right before "Smells Like Teen Spirit" blew up), Smashing Pumpkins (when Billy Corgan had hair) and Denver legends Warlock Pinchers (one of the wildest shows I've ever attended) there, among many others during the Rise of Grunge.
I also played at the venue myself with a band at the time—the sound was even worse onstage than it was in the room. The Fifth Ward Meetinghouse's acoustics were not accommodating to the devil's music.
But, barring a unicorn legal ruling against rich developers, the building's still coming down to make way for a new apartment building with an IPA-only brewery, a vintage Crocs boutique and a pet psychic on the ground floor. Oh, and a dirty soda shop—there's always a dirty soda shop.
This is fine: Old bricks have to come down to make way for new bricks that future NIMBYs will zealously guard against newer, future-er bricks. You know what you get when you sustain a city strictly on creaky, leaky buildings constructed 11 centuries ago? You get Ogden (love ya, O-Town). The Fifth Ward Meetinghouse stood for more than 100 years—just let it go already.
Senior structures aren't worth romanticizing. Does anybody really miss the Sears at 800 South and State? The block has been reborn as the Great Sears Lake with waterside taco carts—now that's progress.
