By Mary Lynn Smith, Star Tribune, Minneapolis

May 16--Chad Kestner had no idea a treasure was tucked amid the rock remnants he planned to pulverize for a road construction project.

But soon after his family business bought an old Delano monument manufacturing scrap yard, Kestner began hearing rumors about the green granite slabs neatly stacked along the river. After talking to the old-timers in town about the stone, which included intricate, hand-carved pieces, he began to unravel its rich history.

The stone once formed the Metropolitan Building, one of Minneapolis' first and most lavish skyscrapers, razed in 1961, to the horror of many.

"We're country kids," Kestner said. "We never heard of the Metropolitan Building. We knew we had this old building there. We didn't have any idea about the feelings of this building."

Now historians, museum officials and preservationists are flocking to Kestner's scrap yard in a quest to save the renowned building's last remnants.

Its demise has long been considered a major loss to the Minneapolis skyline, but it helped spur the local historic preservation movement.

Razing the 12-story building "was perhaps the most inexcusable act of civic vandalism in the history or Minneapolis," wrote author Larry Millett in his book "Lost Twin Cities."

"If it could have survived until the 1970s, when historic preservation money started coming available and tax credits were available, it would have been beautifully preserved," Millett said. "I can guarantee you that today it would be full of lawyers' offices. ... It would be among one of the most prestigious addresses in the city. But it got caught at the wrong time in the wrong place."

Instead, about 3,500 tons of New Hampshire granite that encased the building's first three stories awaits possible fates that range from being crushed into road aggregate to becoming a centerpiece in a park.

"There are so many pieces of the past that are forgotten," said Jack Byers, who oversees Minneapolis' preservation and design section. "Or who knows where they are or if they still exist. So for something like this to come about almost 50 years later is just mind-boggling. It's fantastic."

As preservationists, museum officials and architectural wizards ponder the possibilities, the determining factor may be finding the money to rescue and reuse the rock.

It's about finding a "fairy godmother with deep pockets," Millett said. "We made the mistake of tearing the building down; it would be a lovely thing to save some of the stone. It would be a nice connection to our history."

Imperiled by progress

The Metropolitan, known as the Northwestern Guaranty Loan Building when it opened in 1890, was beautifully detailed with an atrium that reached to its skylit roof and was wrapped by ornamental iron railings and balconies with glass floors. "It was considered the top-of-the-line office building in its day," Millett said. But by 1960 the Metropolitan, located at 3rd Street S. and 2nd Av. S. in what was known as the Gateway District, was caught in one of the largest-scale urban renewal projects in the city's history, Millett said. It was surrounded by some of the city's oldest buildings. "Many were fleabag hotels and old apartment buildings," he said. "There were lot of bars. It was considered skid row."

"Financial forces" wanted to remake downtown, Millett said, and a court case to stop the wrecking ball from taking down the Metropolitan failed. The irony is that the site remained a parking lot until about 1980.

"It was unfortunate," Millett said. "If there is one building in downtown Minneapolis that you could have back, that's the one you would want because of its quality, because of its prominence in Minneapolis history. The light court was really one of the best of its kind in the United States -- it was a nationally significant work of architecture and an expression of Minneapolis coming of age."

Its ghost played a pivotal role in an emerging preservation movement.

"It was a well-enough known building with a lot of drama over the destruction of it so it was one of the buildings that really went a long way to developing a historic consciousness," Millett said.

Saving the stones

In hopes of moving the treasured granite from the scrap heap, Kestner sent out nine e-mails to preservationists and architects. The rescue call went viral and he received more than 350 responses in 48 hours, including notes from some people who want to chisel off a chunk of the old Metropolitan as a personal keepsake. Kestner hopes that meetings with preservationists, architects and others will produce a plan within the next few weeks.

His company, Combined Aggregate Enterprises, would prefer to sell the stones in bulk rather than in pieces.

"We're the farthest from being artists and architectural people as you can get," Kestner said. "We know how to make big rock into little rocks and put them on the road. We're fairly simple, practical people. Our hearts our big and we want to do the right thing. ... We're not trying to hold a gun to the head of this building. It just comes down to economics and practicality."

On the other hand, Kestner would rather not pulverize the Metropolitan rock and have it on his conscience. "Crushing it would be the last resort," he said.

That wouldn't be the absolute worst thing, Millett said. "The building is gone," he said. "Clearly that's the worst thing."

Mary Lynn Smith --612-673-4788

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