Writer behind the "Demolished Helsinki" series enjoys staring at buildings
Journalist Antti Manninen's articles complied into a book
By Merituuli Ahola
Eighty-six years ago, the Heimola Building on Kluuvikatu in downtown Helsinki was thronged with very important gents. The Finnish Diet gathered in this late Jugendstil property to approve the Senate’s proposal for the declaration of Finnish independence from Russia.
At that historic juncture, it is most unlikely that anyone paid any attention to the turret perched on the stone building’s skyline that kept watch over neighbouring blocks. Besides, the modest wooden tower did not satisfy the Zeitgeist of the times: it wasn’t even made of stone.
Half a century later, the stone edifice and its wooden turret were pulled down. A modern commercial block went up in its place in 1972.
This new building was five years old when Antti Manninen, a country lad hailing from Pudasjärvi on the southern marches of Lapland, was accepted into the Helsingin Sanomat journalists’ school, and came to settle in Helsinki.
And it was another twenty years before Manninen and the wooden tower finally met up with one another during a visit to the Helsinki City Museum.
"It was something of an epiphanal experience. In this little room there were these dozen or so pairs of photos that showed houses that were no longer part of the Helsinki cityscape", recalls Manninen.
The journalist on the newspaper’s Metro desk made a mental note about what struck him as an astonishingly simple but pertinent item for the paper, and then brought the subject up with his editor.
A couple of weeks later, the first of Manninen’s series on "Demolished Helsinki" appeared in the paper, and the logo above the piece showed none other than the old Heimola Building and its wooden tower.
Fast forward another two and a half years and 100 articles in the series.
Manninen stands on the corner of Aleksanterinkatu and Kluuvikatu. In the place where all those decades ago decisions were taken on such matters of import as Prohibition or the 8-hour working day, there now stands an advertising stack made of smoked glass.
"An insignificant and boring commercial block", the writer-journalist says with distaste. Except that "distaste" is the wrong word, as Manninen isn’t in the business of distaste. He simply calls them as he sees them.
"I’ve tried to be careful not to bring out my own views. I think it’s important to tell people about these things. They can then decide for themselves what view they take. The bulk of the feedback I have had from the article series in the paper has been positive, but I certainly get asked now and then if it isn’t all a matter of crying over spilt milk", says Manninen, and he turns around.
"And that Kluuvikatu view, it’s just plain drab and boring."
Manninen is a building fan. In his own words he’s a house-spotter; his hobby is "gawping at buildings".
"Oh, and walking. It’s easy to merge the two hobbies together, only that sometimes you can get a stiff neck from all the looking up", says the writer.
Manninen does not blame the demolition crews or their employers. "After the war there was a great urge to be progressive. There was a wish to see Finland developing and becoming prosperous", he explains.
The old buildings were simply "old and in the way". They had to be removed to make room for the new. And another cause for the rush to tear things down was money.
"A more efficient building and better rental returns", adds Antti Manninen as we stand in the small square occupied by the statue of the Three Smiths, arguably the epicentre of the city, at the Mannerheimintie end of Aleksanterinkatu.
Across from the Three Smiths and their anvil, on the corner of Mannerheimintie and Kalevankatu, there stood many years ago the decorated edifice of the Huber Building. Now the dark grey stone facade that replaced it is having a new red neon advertising sign put up.
The gaping jaws of a ramp leading to an underground car park on the Kalevankatu side are dismissed by Manninen as "as ugly as sin".
But Manninen does not buy into opposing the new for its own sake.
As far as he is concerned, for instance, it would be no great loss if developers pulled down the famed Makkaratalo on Kaivokatu (known jocularly by this name, which translates as "Sausage Building" - see the bulbous, sausage-like bands of concrete running horizontally around the facade), or even the contentious Czarist-era Railway Warehouses facing Parliament, which have been at the centre of arguments over the development of this prime piece of central Helsinki land.
"Sure, the city should periodically shed its skin and diversify itself, but it would be wise to hold on to complete entities", he answers.
The saddest example of what he means by breaking up the urban picture comes in Manninen’s opinion from the flagship location of the Senate Square, where the large reddish-brown building on the corner of the monumental square may well have even hindered the site from getting into the Unesco World Heritage listings.
"If you are going to admire the Senate Square, then you should make sure you have your back to the Nordea Bank Building", laughs Manninen.
He picked out the last instalment of his series of articles already years ago.
Initially the series was supposed to comprise eight pieces, then it was upped to 16, and in the end the entire thing got completely out of control.
"At one point I think we decided there should be 80 in all, and then we’d publish them as a book. But because the agreement with the publishers took its own sweet time, I wrote another 20 on the top", he shrugs.
What he saved for last was an epilogue in which he sand-blasted the doings of his employer in this respect. The chapter concerns the alterations made to the former Helsingin Sanomat offices on Ludviginkatu, from where the newspaper was edited and written for 95 years, until the move to the new Sanomatalo complex.
"It provides a good picture of how the might of one company can change the look of an entire street."
Helsingin Sanomat / First published in print 28.10.2004
Antti Manninen: Puretut talot. 100 tarinaa Helsingistä ("Demolished Helsinki. 100 Stories from the Capital"), 2004, Helsingin Sanomat. 182 pages, EUR 42.00 (in Finnish)
MERITUULI AHOLA / Helsingin Sanomat
merituuli.ahola@hs.fi
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| 2.11.2004 - THIS WEEK |
 Writer behind the "Demolished Helsinki" series enjoys staring at buildings |
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