It comes down to this: What kind of city do we want to leave to our children? Look at the buildings on the Northwestern Memorial Hospital campus. Is there a single one, other than Bertrand Goldberg's Prentice, that you'd consider a legacy worth passing down? Galter and Feinberg are massive fortresses. The new Prentice has it's best face facing out, on Chicago; facing in, on Superior, it offers only a brutal, graceless arcade of oppressive scale. And the other buildings? How could the healing powers of a great hospital, offering so much hope, encase itself in such a veneer of faceless despair? Without those optimistic, gently rounded forms of Bertrand Goldberg's Prentice towers, there 's no contrast, no relief from the medical complex as an architectural necropolis.
If Northwestern is allowed to destroy Prentice, what do we get? Nothing. Just an extension of the two-block-square gravel yard just across the street, that's been there since Lakeside Veterans Hospital was demolished two years ago. There is no construction on the boards, nor expected any time soon. Nothing will be left behind but the palpable ache of absence.
Two faces, deeply contrasting. Which one will be Chicago's?