<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Rk-V8Ss8t3I/AAAAAAAAADw/mL-DKsmeM6Y/s1600-h/chester.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Rk-V8Ss8t3I/AAAAAAAAADw/mL-DKsmeM6Y/s200/chester.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066432968860153714" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Blogger: Chester<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(Photo credit: <a href="http://myspace.com/chrisbouldin">Chris Bouldin</a>)</span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><br />Hello? It’s <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Chester</st1:place></st1:city>, finally. Today I managed to convince Natasha, who thinks she’s the boss of everything, to post my eloquent critique of eight weird and/or ugly buildings in <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Tulsa</st1:place></st1:city>. She said something about being afraid I'd write something “crass,” but I didn’t pay attention to what else she said. Who actually uses the word “crass” anyway? People who can’t be trusted to feed you every day, that’s who.<br /><br />Presenting eight weird and/or ugly buildings I found in Tulsa on the Internet when Tasha wasn't hogging the computer:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Rk-YkSs8t6I/AAAAAAAAAEI/fa2Ft-lAceg/s1600-h/DiamondTower_0507.bmp"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Rk-YkSs8t6I/AAAAAAAAAEI/fa2Ft-lAceg/s400/DiamondTower_0507.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066435855078176674" border="0" /></a> <ol style="margin-top: 0in;" start="1" type="1"><li class="MsoNormal" style=""><st1:placename style="font-weight: bold;" st="on">Diamond</st1:placename><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><st1:placetype style="font-weight: bold;" st="on">Tower</st1:placetype><br />“A box covered in nipples” is the best way to describe this architectural      mega-disaster on <st1:place st="on">South Boulder</st1:place> between      17th and 18th Streets.<br />The seven-story, windowless building was built in 1957 for famed      televangelist <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oral_Roberts">Oral Roberts</a>, who claimed he spoke directly to God.<br />Unfortunately for Roberts, architecture asceticism and potential resale      value weren't often topics of conversation. After a brief early '80’s stint      as a <st1:place st="on">Southwestern Bell</st1:place> district      headquarters, the building was abandoned. No wonder.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Rk-ZNCs8t7I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/6z1f3Vmz3TM/s1600-h/UniversityClubTower_0507.bmp"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Rk-ZNCs8t7I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/6z1f3Vmz3TM/s400/UniversityClubTower_0507.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066436555157845938" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span></div><span style="font-weight: bold;">2. </span><st1:place style="font-weight: bold;" st="on"><st1:placetype st="on">University</st1:placetype>       <st1:placename st="on">Club</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">Tower</st1:placetype></st1:place><br />This 32-story, 377-foot building at <st1:street st="on"><st1:address st="on">1722 S. Carson Ave.</st1:address></st1:street> resembles a lime      green beer can wearing a concrete sombrero, complete with an antenna. I      had a fish friend back in the tank at Wal-Mart who said the building looks      kinda like a syringe. Anyway, the sombrero-wearing syringe is now home to      hundreds of Tulsans who apparently find living in beer cans charming and      homey.<br />The structure was developed in 1966 by Dick Wheeler, who also happens to      be the developer of the aesthetically challenged Camelot Hotel (see number      five). Coincidence? I don't think so, Tim.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Rk-ZySs8t8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/s6HFLvtPmQE/s1600-h/MabeeCenter_0507.bmp"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Rk-ZySs8t8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/s6HFLvtPmQE/s400/MabeeCenter_0507.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066437195107973058" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Rk-aACs8t9I/AAAAAAAAAEg/qCS4d094SCk/s1600-h/thundercleese.gif"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Rk-aACs8t9I/AAAAAAAAAEg/qCS4d094SCk/s400/thundercleese.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066437431331174354" border="0" /></a></div><span style="font-weight: bold;"> 3. The Mabee Center</span><br />The 10,575-seat <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">Mabee</st1:placename>       <st1:placetype st="on">Center</st1:placetype></st1:place>, <st1:street st="on"><st1:address st="on">7777 S. Lewis Ave.</st1:address></st1:street>,      has since its opening in 1972 played host not only to Jesus mega-meetings,      but also to concerts, high school and college graduations, and <a href="http://www.oru.edu/">Oral      Roberts University</a> basketball.<br />The arena is an elliptical cable-suspension structure and bears the name      of John Mabee, the Tulsan credited with the founding of the <a href="http://www.mabeefoundation.com/">Mabee      Foundation</a>. Mabee died in 1961, fortunately before witnessing the golden      eyesore resembling a robot’s head that would later bear his name.<br />Surely not many Tulsans have managed to avoid subjecting their eyes to the      <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">Mabee</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">Center</st1:placetype></st1:place> during the past month,      thanks to graduation ceremony obligations. Here is some late-arriving      advice: looking directly at the <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">Mabee</st1:placename>       <st1:placetype st="on">Center</st1:placetype></st1:place> has been      known to cause temporary blindness, dreams of robots, and embarrassing      <a href="http://www.hasbro.com/transformers/">Transformers</a> commercials reenactments.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Rk_PWys8t-I/AAAAAAAAAEo/aVZ60wx53WQ/s1600-h/CityPlexTowers_0507.bmp"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Rk_PWys8t-I/AAAAAAAAAEo/aVZ60wx53WQ/s400/CityPlexTowers_0507.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066496096289470434" border="0" /></a></div><span style="font-weight: bold;">4. </span><st1:place style="font-weight: bold;" st="on"><st1:placename st="on">CitiPlex</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">Towers</st1:placetype></st1:place><br />The CitiPlex Towers were built after a 900-foot Jesus kindly urged Oral      Roberts to erect the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cityplex_Towers">City of Faith Medical and Research Center</a>, a massive, pro-bono      hospital at the corners of <st1:street st="on"><st1:address st="on">81st        Street</st1:address></st1:street> and <st1:street st="on"><st1:address st="on">Lewis Avenue</st1:address></st1:street>.<br />The building, comprised of 2.2 million square feet of converted office      space on 60 floors, was completed in 1981, and served as a hospital for a      mere eight years before closing in 1989. Someone is remodeling large parts of the first floor, which joins the three buildings. Judging by the way the place      looked through my fish bowl when Chris Bouldin took me on a      walking tour, I decided that perhaps the founding of <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Tulsa</st1:place></st1:city> hospitals should be left to <a href="http://www.sjmc.org/general.asp?id=sp191">nuns</a>.<br />Though the building was commissioned with the noble goal of saving lives,      the sight of the structure is partially blamed for the 1985 death of      Hollywood-legend <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001369/">Rock Hudson</a>.<br /><br /><span style="color:black;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">5. <a href="http://flickr.com/photos/losttulsa/sets/669025/">Camelot Hotel</a></span></span><span style="color:black;"><br />Built in 1965 and condemned in 1996, the Camelot Hotel, an eight-story, 330-room      hotel that wishes it was a castle, came complete with a moat, drawbridge,      guard towers and spacious lodgings for the future boarding of Tulsa’s most      famous natural resource, the homeless.<br />Though abandoned, the building still stands at <st1:street st="on"><st1:address st="on">4956 S. Peoria Ave.</st1:address></st1:street> The Tulsa      Industrial Authority recently struck a deal for the remediation and      demolition of the structure with The Maharishi Ayur-Ved University, which      has done nothing</span><span style="color:black;"> s</span><span style="color:black;">ince it bought the hotel for $1.15 million in 1993 to      improve or renovate the property. Unfortunately, cross-legged humming and      positive thinking cannot save the Camelot or its giant signage – which      would actually be kinda cool if it weren’t positioned right next door to a      major interstate highway. Anyway, this fairyland is due to be razed later      this year. The drive through <st1:city st="on">Tulsa</st1:city> to <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Oklahoma City</st1:place></st1:city>      (who’d want to do that, anyway?!) will be more pleasant for it.<br /></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Rk_Rwis8t_I/AAAAAAAAAEw/i4DGa679iwc/s1600-h/ReynoldsAmphi_0507.bmp"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Rk_Rwis8t_I/AAAAAAAAAEw/i4DGa679iwc/s400/ReynoldsAmphi_0507.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066498737694357490" border="0" /></a></div><span style="font-weight: bold;">6. Reynolds Amphitheatre</span><br />The city of <st1:city st="on">Tulsa</st1:city> boasts over 40 miles of <st1:place st="on">Arkansas River</st1:place> shoreline, which features the worst      in sights and smells.<br />From gravel plants in the south to oil refineries and tank farms to the      north, a float down the river in <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Tulsa</st1:place></st1:city>      today would be enough to make a colorectal surgeon dry heave. I sure as      heck wouldn’t trade my small, unkempt home on Tasha’s desk for freedom in      that stream of stench and sadness.<br />Of all the man-made structures gracing the banks of the river, the      Reynolds River Parks Amphitheater located in River Park West is certainly      one of the most hideous.<br />The combination of a chocolate-brown river, the smells of stagnant water      and goose droppings only add to the lovely experience of staring at this      thing, which resembles a zit at high-noon with room for tap dancing,      during concerts on the river in the middle of summer, when mosquitoes      swarm and the temperature doesn’t drop below 95 until 2 a.m.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Rk_SWCs8uAI/AAAAAAAAAE4/nDdVsCSBRFo/s1600-h/InterntlTower_0507.bmp"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Rk_SWCs8uAI/AAAAAAAAAE4/nDdVsCSBRFo/s400/InterntlTower_0507.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066499381939451906" border="0" /></a></div><span style="font-weight: bold;">7. </span><st1:placename style="font-weight: bold;" st="on">International</st1:placename><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><st1:placetype style="font-weight: bold;" st="on">Tower</st1:placetype><br />Built in 1970, the <st1:placename st="on">International</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">Tower</st1:placetype> at <st1:street st="on"><st1:address st="on">5200 S. Yale Ave.</st1:address></st1:street> is the only      six-story building in <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Tulsa</st1:city></st1:place>      that carries the regal sounding title, “tower.” Methinks someone is      compensating for something – or, maybe he’s just being honest and having a      little fun. That’s probably it, now that I think about it.<br />The structure features the tall, narrow windows normally reserved for much      taller buildings - which could double as arrow slits if the clan from the      Camelot threaten to steal <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">International</st1:placename>       <st1:placetype st="on">Tower</st1:placetype></st1:place> maidens - and      an exterior of drab, cut-rate red brick.<br />The landscaping is just as breathtaking. The giant, spherical bushes do      nothing to better pronounce the puny glass entrance.<br />As they say in the real estate biz, “it’s a must see.”<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Rk_Svys8uBI/AAAAAAAAAFA/xE2iFLZ-aB0/s1600-h/CreekNationCasino_0507.bmp"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Rk_Svys8uBI/AAAAAAAAAFA/xE2iFLZ-aB0/s400/CreekNationCasino_0507.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066499824321083410" border="0" /></a><br /></div><span style="font-weight: bold;">8. Creek Nation Casino</span><br />One would think that in exchange for my weekly mission to binge drink      myself numb while mindlessly shoving $20 bills into a “Wheel of Fortune”      slot machine from my domestic, watery prison that the Creek Nation Casino      could give me a more exotic environment in which to wager away my goldfish      sadness. But, no such luck.<br />Just a drive by this dreadful building at <st1:street st="on"><st1:address st="on">1616 E. 81st St.</st1:address></st1:street> is enough to make      me long for the semi-attractive backroom casinos and speakeasies of the      prohibition era. The structural statistics of this place are guarded like      the gold in <st1:place st="on"><st1:placetype st="on">Fort</st1:placetype>       <st1:placename st="on">Knox</st1:placename></st1:place>, but who cares.      I don’t have to know how many square feet of gaming fun is inside to know that no one tried to make this ugly metal building look like      something else besides an ugly metal building. Guess local casinos and      churches love metal buildings like little girls love Troll dolls – they’re      so ugly, they’re cute. The girls must collect them all. </li></ol>    <p class="MsoNormal">That’s it for me for today. I’m off to try to convince Tasha to either increase the vodka-to-water ratio in my tank, or to take me to Sushi Train for some grub. Later!</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">All photos thanks to Chris Bouldin, except for the link to the </span><a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://www.losttulsa.com">Lost Tulsa</a><span style="font-style: italic;"> Flickr site. </span></span><br /></p>