17/5/98

Something's afoot in 'old' Tel Aviv

    Take a walk through central Tel Aviv. It's not a pretty sight. The city core is dilapidated, crumbling, sleazy. But continue on down Yavne Street until Mazeh, and -- BOOM! You've got to rub your eyes in disbelief.
    "Ma zeh?!" (what's this?) you say to yourself.
    The building at 9 Mazeh is as decayed as all the rest, but it's in the process of being renovated. Ordinarily, the construction company will put up ugly boards or sheets of plastic to keep the public out, an eyesore that remains there for a year or two. But this!
    Covering the entire facade, about a half-block wide and three stories high, is a silk-screened rendition of the finished work -- life size. In the middle, at street level, is an arch inviting passersby to peer in.
    It seems almost a pity to fix up the building if it means taking down the picture.  
    Something's happening here. There appears to be a concerted effort -- finally -- to snaz up The City That Never Stops Decaying.
    The project at 9 Mazeh is to return the old Balfour Hospital to its former glory: a colonnaded, arched, twin-tower structure called Beit Hateumim. It was a grand building when it went up in 1924, and it will be again when it's rebuilt the coming year as a city library.
    Oneal Construction of Tel Aviv is doing the work (they've done very well so far, just putting up that silk-screen). They're also building a smart-looking high-rise next door.
    Across the street, at number 20, another old wreck has already been beautifully gentrified. The restoration has dramatically resurrected a building that was uninhabitable, but which is now fetching some $600,000 per apartment.
     The dozy shopkeepers of this long-neglected area are sniffing an air of excitement. The old-fashioned barbershop, the dusty flower store, the dingy watch-repair shop, the charmless, downscale eatery -- all of a sudden, their slummy neighborhood is alive with change.

IT'S NOT just here or there. Much of the 12-square-kilometer area bordered by the sea, the Yarkon River, Neve Zedek to the south and Ibn Gvirol / Yehuda Halevy Streets eastward will be dusted off and prettified.
    That precinct is now being called the Historical City.
    Sure, laugh. Tel Aviv is merely 90 years old. The second half of its hyphenated name, Jaffa, is 4,000 years old.
    Yisrael Goodovitch, Tel Aviv's city engineer, chuckles at the chutzpah of it all. (The chutzpah, of course, is his own.)
    "What history can there be in 90 years? It's a virtual historical city. But it's being treated like old cities elsewhere: Jerusalem and Paris, where you have regulations for historical sites; Vienna, Marseilles, Barcelona.
    "For instance, there will be a limit of seven stories for new buildings. Small gardens will be preserved. Pollution will be reduced. We will be banning buses from this area, using minibuses instead."
    Only 10 percent of the Historical City is undeveloped, and Goodovitch is keeping a wary watch on these tracts. New structures will have to comply with his altneu concept. The chief engineer is pleading with contractors of two new projects sanctioned by the previous municipality to scale down.
    Goodovitch has wasted no time implementing his vision: he has been in the job only since January.
    "Along comes the city engineer and he says, hey, we also have a historical city! It's a paradox, but people like it. Now everyone's using this term. Really, there is no historical city. Tel Aviv? What sites do we have?! But I said no, there are."
    His office is campaigning for residents and shopkeepers to participate in the renewal plan -- and bankroll it. He's encouraging the good burghers to renovate, preserve, beautify.
    Believe it or not, there was once method to this urban madness. The first, last and only master plan for Tel Aviv was drawn up by Sir Patrick Geddes and approved in 1929. Back then, this now-decrepit area was known as -- heh, heh -- New Tel Aviv.
    Goodovitch says that by the time he's done, "it'll look the way Geddes designed it." He may be overly optimistic -- or under-experienced, considering that he's held the position for only about 100 days -- but there's no denying his fresh, enthusiastic outlook.
    As he said at the end of our interview (and it sounded very funny in his Hebrew accent), "There's a new sheriff in town."