Red lights turn green for Empire schoolhouse project

Village need for municipal wastewater system remains as roadblock

By Linda Alice Dewey
Sun contributor

With this story, the Sun kicks off a series on prominent but derelict or underutilized buildings in our corner of Leelanau County.

Neither local historian David Taghon nor I realize the surprise in store for us as we sit down inside the Empire Area Museum to talk about the old Empire schoolhouse—its history and what is to become of it.

Taghon begins by telling me that the current schoolhouse owner must be in town. Though Taghon hasn’t seen Canton, Mich. developer Joe Van Esley in 10-15 years, he knows this because a truck has been parked at the “kindergarten house” in front of the schoolhouse, where Van Esley stays when he’s here. (Oh, the value of living in a small town.)

Taghon says he’s only been inside the schoolhouse two or three times in the 60 years it has stood dormant; the last time was about 10 years ago. He relates high points from the history of the school, which was built on the southwest corner of M-22 and M-72 (Front Street) in 1900. Taghon adds a few anecdotes from his time as a student there, which was from 1948 to 1957 when the school closed. (For more history, visit our archives.)

After a half hour, we say goodbye, and I drive the few blocks to the schoolhouse to see if I can catch Van Esley. There sits the truck, just as Taghon said. I try knocking on the schoolhouse, then notice two men quickly jaywalking across the street toward me. Their talk carries on the wind. I hear the name “Joe” and know I’m in luck.

Along comes Taghon, who swerves his truck to the curb and gets out. This was no mistake then. Taghon saw Van Esley downtown and steered him back this way, where he knew I would be looking for him. The other man departs, and the three of us begin to walk toward the 10,000 square-foot schoolhouse looming above us, noting the fine exterior paint job. Even though the tall windows, boarded up for decades, have been replaced, Van Esley intimates he has someone who will finish restoring them for another $25 to $30,000.

Tour into the past

Van Esley has plans, big plans. If all goes well, this structure will serve multiple purposes. The classrooms will be retail space. A small pass-through office window space in the central hall might become a community information booth. The upstairs will be residential. Basement bathrooms will have handicapped access. Outdoors, he’ll have a music system and a large deck. He bought the lot south of the schoolhouse for parking and may even do something with the kindergarten house.

This unassuming, silver-haired guy dressed in a sweatshirt and baseball cap tells us that the first thing he had to do when he bought the schoolhouse in 2004 was to immediately put a new roof on it. Otherwise, the entire structure would have had to be demolished. (For more history, see our website.) “With old buildings, if you have a leaky basement or roof, you’re in trouble,” he explains. He shows us the stone foundation which, except for some cracked grout, appears to be in excellent condition.

Van Esley pulls out a set of keys. We’re going to get a tour. “I have over a million pieces of memorabilia,” he says to prepare us as he unlocks the door. We enter and climb the few wide steps to a central area littered with demolition and renovation materials. Surrounding it are half-wood panel/half-glass walls enclosing classrooms piled high with desks and boxes.

Van Esley addresses structural issues almost before we see them. Long gashes where the old blackboards had been will be filled with blackboards he’s already purchased; he’s looking for more. Several standard light fixtures hang from the high ceilings, but many more are missing; Van Esley already has matching replacements. The severe ceiling and floor damage are due to the leaking roof, which is good now. The curling asbestos floor tile, however, must come up, and he has just the guy—“a miracle worker”—to do it.

The 60-year old developer leads us down a dark, narrow hallway past relics from all over the state—a four-foot tall statue of Bozo he got in Flint, a set of three beautiful seats from Briggs Stadium (later renamed Tiger Stadium), a wooden bear from the totem pole just the other side of the Mackinac Bridge. Folk-art dioramas line the hallways; beautiful outdoor street lights lean against a wall; a real horse-pulled sleigh (sans the horses) peeks out from under other paraphernalia. There’s an old Vernors Ginger Ale cooler, a Pepsi cooler, and a range of display cases full of old potato chip cans. “I’ll probably make my own potato chips,” he says in an aside.

The hallways open onto what will one day be the restaurant/bar, and we walk the few steps to the far end of the small but high-ceilinged gymnasium. “When things get rolling,” he says, “there will be music here.” One can imagine the possibilities. A junk-filled balcony running above the hallway once served as an observation space; maybe it will again. The rear gym door used to bring in donkeys for “donkey basketball” (I don’t ask) will be transformed into a handicapped entrance.

As Van Esley says, “It’s got the bones.”

Community involvement

Through all this, Taghon feels a bit nostalgic. He remembers all those games. Back then, basketball was king.

Since the school closed, the building’s several owners have pipe-dreamed it into a poker palace, a coffee house, a theater. One member of the community said she would love to oversee the creation of an outdoor garden full of native plants. https://glenarborsun.com/visualize-native-plants-in-empire/ (Van Esley, who is also a horticulturist, is open to the idea.)

Another suggested turning it a community center. That idea was included in a 1998 village master plan. It still has a great deal of traction here. Lanny Sterling, treasurer of the Empire Area Community Center, a group that sponsors seasonal community parties and events (despite its title, it has no building) feels the schoolhouse is “perfect” for community activities and sees the project as a very real possibility. “It’s a beautiful thing waiting to happen,” he exclaims. Sterling suggests it might qualify for both historic renovation and community service grants. “There are plenty of funds out there,” he observes. “It would be so easy to do.”

“It’s exciting times,” agrees Empire Chamber of Commerce chairman Paul Skinner. “We’ve been nine years out of the recession. The USDA still has funding for a very long period of time.” However, he warns, “It would behoove us to act now.” Government programs could change.

Van Esley, already a million dollars into the project, is gratified to hear such support. “It’s not going to work unless the community, and everyone else, is involved,” he affirms.

Yet there have been legitimate concerns. One question was whether toxins from the old building had leached into the ground, so in 2006 Van Esley paid the Michigan Department of Environmental Quality (MDEQ) to do a study. Although tests showed a higher than acceptable metal content in the ground around the old septic system site, Steven Kitler, supervisor for remediation in the MDEQ Redevelopment Division, says that the metals have not reached the groundwater, which is good. As long as Van Esley doesn’t disturb that area and follows through on plans to relocate the drainage field to the front of the building, things should be okay.

As for asbestos and lead paint removal, the county indicates there are contractors certified to take care of that. Plus, Van Esley’s experience includes restoring his downstate office, which had been a mill house built in 1856. He also holds a certificate for lead-based paint abatement.

The significant roadblock that remains has stopped other potential developers, too. “I’m hoping that Empire passes a wastewater bill that will help me get my plumbing in here,” says Van Esley, “so that I can lease some of my space here to a restaurant. It will help immensely to get things going.” He makes a rather large pledge. “I’m willing to put part of the piano on my back.” At a village meeting the night before, Van Esley made that boast. Soon, that roadblock may be removed. Skinner believes there may now be enough interest in the village to install a sewer system where participation would be voluntary.

So what’s Van Esley’s timeline? Once he gets a Brownfield plan approved, Van Esley will have just five years to accomplish it, which means he can’t submit that plan until Empire makes its decision on the sewer. “If it takes Empire two to three years,” he says, “I’m waiting.”

So is the building, which is stable now. As we exit the schoolhouse and thank him for the grand tour, Joe Van Esley exclaims, “Thank God, we got to the wood and the roof before it started rotting!”