Space Cowboys: Tom Miles (right) and Alex Generalis are wanted by Hollywood and sought out by locals for their design acumen. Photo By: Michael T. Regan
September 25-October 1, 2003
cover story
Space Cowboys: Tom Miles (right) and Alex Generalis are wanted by Hollywood and sought out by locals for their design acumen. Photo By: Michael T. Regan |
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Space really is the final frontier for artists cum developers Tom Miles and Alex Generalis.
Near the Pennsylvania Convention Center -- between Broad and Eighth streets, and Arch and Spring Garden streets -- Miles & Generalis, Inc. is crafting Philadelphia’s "new loft district." It is Center City’s last undeveloped residential canvas and the crux of the new urban lifestyle.
It’s utilitarian, interpretive and in high demand. A place to live. A place to work. A space that 20-somethings and empty-nesters and artists and attorneys and Hollywood directors can’t get enough of.
Tom Miles and Alex Generalis founded the business, which is both a sculpture and design studio and a real estate development company.
In one year, the price of an M&G loft has doubled and tripled. Renters can get by on $1,500-$2,000 a month, and buyers are chugging price tags around $300,000 per 1,000 square feet. But that’s the low end of the spectrum.
The demand is smothering the supply, and by the end of the year, M&G will top $50 million in finished value.
"And the city still hasn’t given us a medal yet," says Miles.
M&G has home-hunters fighting tooth and nail to live in abandoned garment, shoe and glass factories with no closets, limited counter space and fold-up mattresses.
M&G, on average, spends $100 to $250 per square foot (construction, land and finance costs) to convert the leftovers of Philadelphia’s industrial age, then sells the properties for $200 to $300 per square foot and higher.
Who’s behind this, you ask? Another Wharton MBA?
The truth is, Miles and Generalis were classmates at what is now University of the Arts (formerly the Philadelphia College of Arts). Generalis has a bachelor’s degree in industrial design and a master’s degree in art education (sculpture). Miles earned his bachelor’s in sociology from Baker University in Kansas and his master’s in fine arts from Boston University.
As for the real estate, "The time and the market came toward us," claims Generalis.
In 1978, the sculptors moved to Philadelphia looking for a place where they could live and work at the same address.
Back then, "No one would go north of Vine [Street]," says Generalis.
"Most of Spruce Street was boarded up," adds Miles. "There were three stores on South Street."
The pair rounded up a group of associates and friends in the professional arts, pooled their resources and purchased their first piece of real estate -- a former cigar factory at 700 S. 10th St.
Over the years, the studio arm of M&G has commissioned scores of sculptures, graphics and architectural designs for clients such as Nike and the Department of the Navy. They made 30 pieces for Universal Pictures’ 12 Monkeys, worked with the Philadelphia Museum of Art and, oh yeah, began crafting a neighborhood.
In the process, they established a planning commission, joined a zoning board and launched the Callowhill Neighborhood Association, a nonprofit that runs cleanups, town-watch patrols and community gardens.
Three years ago, real estate broker Theresa A. Stigale, a Philly native and Temple grad, completed the M&G triumvirate. The trio drafts, zones, photographs and consults. They own half a dozen properties and offer construction management and general contracting to independent developers and investors.
The M&G office is sub-modest. You’ll drive by the front door at 1234 Hamilton St., call for directions, then walk by it. You’ll see an Asian restaurant, a business that makes neon signs, but there’s no M&G awning. Just a call box.
They do have a part-time secretary--someone has to answer the phone when Jerry Bruckheimer calls again. It’s hard to get anything done when the movie studios phone once a month looking for lofts to film.
Despite the steamrolling success, Miles and Generalis are determined to preserve the neighborhood’s eclectic fabric.
"The creative community adds value wherever it goes," says Generalis. "The creative community still has control."
That’s why, around the corner, Café Lift opens next month. An authentic cargo lift will carry patrons to their coffees, sandwiches and desserts. Miles and Generalis probably won’t turn a profit from their financial backing, but the community will, and collaborating with neighborhood entrepreneurs is all in a day’s work.
So what’s next?
In Generalis’ office, he has a cartoon clipped from The New Yorker. In the strip, a realtor says, "This used to be an artist’s loft, but now it’s an attorney’s loft."
Generalis laughs because on Broad Street, he’s going to give Philly its first doctors’ lofts.
M&G has a variety of projects in the works in Old City and the new loft district. It’s also looking at interesting, smaller properties for conversion into "mansion lofts."
"Philadelphia doesn’t need any more brick," says Generalis, so in 2005, M&G is planning the city’s first new contemporary loft building. Concrete, steel and glass will carefully contain masses of cubic volume.
High ceilings. Huge windows. No walls. Minimal finish.
The allure is in the empty space.
Imagine your typical day of honking, warm garbage, Starbucks, tight parking spots, jackhammers, Starbucks, deodorant shortages on the subway, sirens, disgruntled Eagles fans, Starbucks … finally, it’s time to punch out. You fumble for your keys and …
Cue the silence.
Space.
That’s it.
From urban claustrophobia to the Grand Canyon of residential living.
"It’s like going into a cathedral," says Miles, "and that’s your home."
"People want to live in a big, flexible space," says Generalis.
"They feel like they can affect the space," Miles says, "more than just hanging pictures on the wall."
"You can screw something to the floor," says Stigale. She lives in an M&G loft, switching periodically. At the moment, her pad includes two refrigerators (she likes fresh produce), fashion mannequins dressed for Mardi Gras, a television on wheels, Christ on the crucifix (she’s storing it for someone) and a trampoline.
Go ahead. Jump! You absolutely will not hit your head on the ceiling.
Many residents invest in "Murphy beds." You know the kind -- they flip up into the wall in shabby hotels.
The loft fold-up beds are works of art, handcrafted metal sculptures designed by Bill Curran, another resident artist in the new loft district. When folded, the beds look like pieces of sculpture. Loft dwellers are spending thousands for Curran’s welded metal furniture, fixtures, stairs and window frames.
It’s just one example of the dynamic position M&G has carved in the city. Generalis credits the banking community, the art community, the real estate community and others. "This isn’t just a couple of guys," he says. "It takes a whole community of professionals."
Miles and Generalis have tracked two decades of change in Philadelphia, and right now, they think the new loft district is about 30 percent developed.
"Old City is solid gold right now," says Generalis. "Like a little, compressed Manhattan. Philadelphia’s Tribeca is the new loft district."
"We weren’t from a real estate mold," Miles says, but "we’ve been able to participate in the rebirth of a major city."
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