Towering Ambition

The Chicago Spire aims to be the tallest skyscraper in North America. But will it get built? The twisting tale so far

By Jay Pridmore

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Who you calling a Twizzler? (From left) the original 2005 Fordham Spire; the critic Blair Kamin described Shelbourne's first revised version as "Twizzler-ish" and disliked the blunt top; the current design, unveiled in January 2007

In a press release the same day, Shelbourne announced that its owner, Garrett Kelleher, would proceed with the Spire design. Described as a Dublin-based investor who had lived in Chicago for ten years "beginning in 1986 when he arrived with $500 in his wallet," Kelleher affirmed his love for the city. "[Chicago] has a special place in my heart," his quote read. "Two of my six children were born here and it will always be my second home. I'm very excited to have the opportunity to contribute to the Chicago skyline." Streeterville had a revived Spire. And Chicago had a new real-estate mogul, a 46-year-old who had in fact made a tidy fortune as a loft rehabber in Bucktown a decade before.

For his part Calatrava went with the flow. He was fond of Carley. ("He's not just a rational developer," Calatrava says. "He's driven by his heart.") But Kelleher possessed audacity, an attribute hammered repeatedly by people who spoke about him. "He has the ability to take risk," says his Chicago-based attorney Thomas Murphy. According to Murphy, during a visit to Chicago on business Kelleher was approached by a Carley intermediary for gap financing. Kelleher said no, but countered almost instantly with an offer to buy the whole project. Carley, facing a payment deadline, agreed, reportedly keeping a stake in the project worth 15 percent of the Spire's profit. The deal took a week from beginning to end.

Shelbourne next announced that the Spire would break ground the following spring and that Kelleher would do so without a bank loan, rather tapping Shelbourne equity, estimated at $1 billion, to get the project under way. Beginning this way struck other developers and architects as pure folly—not just for Kelleher but for Chicago's precious lakefront—citing the risk of a half-built tower and no bank to finance the rest. Journalists raised the issue with Kelleher's growing phalanx of spokespersons, who answered with knowing smiles. "You'll see," they said.

In December 2006, Kelleher and Calatrava unveiled their first revised scheme. Still a spiraling tower, the design was now slightly wider from its base to the top; they scratched the plan for the hotel and filled the place exclusively with condominium units. The previous aboveground parking structure was replaced with an underground garage, a view-preserving gesture to its neighbors that would cost many millions. The base was an improvement but this wasn't the change that most people latched onto: The top no longer narrowed to a point but came to a blunt, abrupt end. Howls ensued. When SOAR's Spreen saw the model for the first time she thought they just hadn't finished it. The Chicago Tribune architecture critic Blair Kamin described the new design as "straighter, flatter, less voluptuous, more Twizzler-ish," after the waxy licorice stick, and said the chopped-off top was a "sky-high letdown."

This sent Calatrava and Kelleher back to the drawing board, and they returned a month later, this time with a tapered, sufficiently spirelike top. But rumors circulated that Kelleher was shopping around several versions of the design, and the suspicion arose that he was trying to generate public support with pictures that were more fantasy than fact.

"It smells, and you know of what," wrote the Sun-Times architecture critic Kevin Nance.

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(2005 Spire rendering) Chicago Tribune/Bonnie Trafelet, (2006 Spire) Shelbourne Development Group/Santiago Calatrava, (2007 Spire) Chicago Tribune/Phil Velasquez