Construction of the new IBEW Local 712 Union Hall

didn’t begin with an empty site. It began in the middle

of a functioning one.

For more than a century, the International Brotherhood

of Electrical Workers Local 712 has trained and supplied skilled

electricians to contractors throughout Beaver, Crawford,

Lawrence, and Mercer counties. Founded in 1914, the union

represents more than 450 members whose work spans

residential, commercial, and industrial projects, supported

by a five-year apprenticeship program that combines handson

field experience with extensive classroom instruction

in everything from electrical theory and safety practices to

emerging technologies.

Its Union Hall and Training Center had been a cornerstone of the

Beaver community for generations, standing among the modest

homes and tree-lined streets of Sassafras Lane since the 1960’s.

But the needs of a modern electrical workforce had outgrown

the building’s capabilities and replacing it would require an

unusual level of precision.

Following a master planning process in the late 2010s, Local

712 determined to first complete a new apprenticeship training

center in New Castle, allowing attention to turn fully to Beaver.

There, the new Union Hall would be built on the same site as its

predecessor, which had to remain operational while its successor

rose beside it. Utilities had to stay live. Members continued

passing through its doors. And the steady rhythm of life on

Sassafras Lane was not to be disturbed. Yet crews still had to

drill geothermal wells hundreds of feet into the earth, run new

service lines, and construct a 20,000-square-foot facility that

would ultimately take its place.

Completed in 2025, the two-story, 20,000 square-foot LEEDcertified

facility fully supports the IBEW’s daily operations while

showcasing the dedication to craft that forms the heart of the

organization. Constructed entirely by local union labor using

American-made materials, the new hall includes a 150-seat

membership space, offices, conference rooms, and communityaccessible

areas.

Priority one was fitting in.

“They didn’t want to see any mechanical units on the roof or have

to service units on a roof. They wanted the building to fit in with

the neighborhood,” said Tricia Monaco, an architect at DRAW

Collective. Making that happen required careful coordination

between Monaco and her partner, senior architectural designer

Randy Riggins.

“That was a design challenge to get that to come together”,

said Riggins.

“There was a lot of things mechanically that we had to work

around to make the building look as elaborate, as aesthetically

pleasing.”

Instead of presenting a single, uninterrupted façade capped by

a flat commercial parapet, the building is composed as a series

of distinct volumes, each defined by its own height and roofline.

Sloped standing seam metal roofs with measured overhangs

and varied elevations replace the typical flat edge, giving the

structure a profile more commonly associated with residential

architecture. Where equipment was unavoidable, such as limited

chiller units, it was screened and integrated into the roof form so

as not to be visible from the surrounding homes.

Priority two was minimizing the impact of construction and

demolition on the nearby families.

“We kept the time frames tight as far as what the noise ordinances

were and making sure that everyone was adhering to those,”

said John Pappas, president at Eckles Construction Services,

who served as the project’s construction manager.

“The contractors were all good at letting us know what they had

coming up so that we kept people in the community informed

on what was happening and what the next phase of things were

going to be.”

The community certainly had enough on its mind at the time. This

was a covid project, conceived pre-pandemic, disrupted by it,

then built through it. The last thing the teams wanted to do was

add stress to the neighborhood during an already chaotic time.

This care was reciprocated and appreciated by the residents.

“One of the guys next door would pretty much every day come

and have coffee with the crews on site,” laughed Pappas. “He’d

bring them over snacks and stuff like that throughout the day.”

Interestingly, all parties agreed that while the pandemic created

headaches, the business of construction had already adapted to

its peculiar constraints.

“There were definitely supply chain strains that were holding

things, but I think as contractors, it was just another footnote

to make the project challenging,” said Geoff Measel, project

manager at E&G Development, who served as the build’s

general contractor.

“The real strain was logistics and a tight space. It was a

sequencing nightmare. I don’t say nightmare lightly—but it was

one of the hardest parts of this job.

“We were maintaining utilities to the existing building while

running all the new systems to the new building. And some

of them were crossing over each other. You’re building a

full brand-new building, drilling geothermal wells, tying in

site utilities while at the same time keeping the old building

operational. We had to move them into the new building,

tear the old one down, and then finish the site work. That

coordination was extremely challenging.”

The complexity peaked underground. New utilities needed

routing while existing lines stayed operational. Some systems

crossed paths while others required temporary tie-ins before

permanent ones could be established. And the chaos didn’t

end when the new building was completed. Once occupants

transitioned into the new hall, the old building needed

demolishing, including a basement that left a gaping void in the

center of future parking. Temporary parking had to be created

and then final utilities tied in before grades could be reset. Only

then was the project stitched back together as if it had always

been a single cohesive plan.

Meanwhile, the building was designed from its inception to be

carbon neutral and incorporated 20 geothermal wells as the

backbone of its energy strategy. Each well extends roughly 400

to 500 feet below grade, grouped into circuits that connect back

to a central manifold inside the building.

Designing and installing the geothermal field required careful

coordination and engineering. Soil conditions were analyzed

to determine heat transfer capacity, which informed both the

depth and number of wells required. On the tight site, the

well field had to be carefully shoehorned into the overall site

plan and sequenced alongside the chaotic implementation of

utilities, building construction, and eventual demolition of the

existing structure.

Beyond geothermal, the building incorporates several

additional strategies to reduce environmental

impact and improve long-term performance.

Energy-efficient glazing was used in curtain wall

systems to minimize heat gain and loss, while all

lighting throughout the building is LED-based to

reduce electrical demand.

Site design also played a role in sustainability:

stormwater is captured and managed through an

integrated rainwater collection system that gathers

runoff from the parking areas and directs it into a

central feature element. Durable, low-maintenance

materials such as terrazzo flooring were selected

for longevity, reducing lifecycle replacement costs

and waste.

The final challenge was making the building reflect

the Union’s work in a visible and instructional way.

That directive shifted the architectural approach

from concealment to exposure, instead of hiding

infrastructure, the building would display it.

“We had never designed a building where they

really focused on all the mechanical,” said Monaco.

“Everything was going to exposed, the bones of the

building would be on display. So, this mechanical

space was a showpiece.”

That showpiece is on the ground floor, centered

beneath the towering IBEW lettering that anchors

the lobby, within a glass-enclosed electrical room

glowing from behind the stone-clad feature wall.

Inside is the building’s main electrical equipment.

Panels, conduit runs, and organized infrastructure

all had to be aesthetically organized.

Every conduit run had to be carefully routed,

every tray aligned, every junction placed with

intention. The team worked closely with the trades

to choreograph what would be seen and what

needed subtle concealment. A programmable LED

lighting saturates the space in a deep red, washing

evenly across the equipment and reflecting off the

glass to create a uniform glow whose color can be

changed for holidays and causes like Breast Cancer

Awareness month.

Lighting is the core identity of the building’s owner and occupant.

Tricia Monaco described it as central to the design process.

Temperature, intensity, and placement all influence how a space

feels, both inside and out.

“I personally feel that lighting really sells our spaces and our

designs, and lighting is actually the most important part of our

designs. We didn’t want you to really see the light, we wanted

it to glow.”

Rather than flooding the site with tall, high-intensity poles, fixtures

are spaced deliberately and kept at modest heights, providing

clear visibility without casting excessive glare. Landscape

elements reinforce this approach. Plantings, grade changes, and

the recessed drainage corridor create natural buffers absorbing

and softening light before it can travel outward.

In front of the building, an illuminated pedestrian bridge

becomes the primary visual feature, but even here the light is

contained within the railings and directed downward onto the

walking surface, allowing it to guide movement safely without

projecting brightness into the surrounding neighborhood.

On the building itself, illumination reveals form rather than

overwhelm it. Light is concentrated at entry points, beneath

overhangs, and within recessed façade elements, where it

highlights material texture and depth while remaining shielded

from direct view at a distance. Wall-mounted fixtures cast

controlled vertical washes that stop at the surface instead of

spilling outward, and interior light is moderated by the depth of

window openings and overhangs.

This attention to detail peaks in the lobby, where the lighting

is layered like a composition. A circular ring overhead sets the

tone. It’s scaled to the building’s height and reads as a band of

energy racing around the ceiling. The wood panel’s horizontal

reveals wash soft lighting across their surface creating rhythm

and shadow. But the real kicker comes from the floor. The

terrazzo doesn’t mirror; it diffuses. That ring becomes a softened

halo. The red glow of the exposed electric room reflects warmly

off the floor while the IBEW seal looks as if it’s rising from within

the surface.

The building itself pulls off the same quiet trick. In the end, the

IBEW Hall doesn’t resemble a commercial intrusion at all. It

sits comfortably on its lot like a neighborhood church, glowing

with the familiar aura of small-town life. Its broad roofline and

measured height align with the horizon of nearby homes,

keeping it in scale with brick houses, mature trees, and quiet

residential streets.

Just blocks from Main Street, within sight of the Ohio River

and the layered ridgelines beyond, the building feels rooted

in Beaver’s landscape. Lawns, sidewalks, and calm residential

blocks frame it on all sides, and the architecture responds with

restraint. It belongs to the trades that built it and equally to the

neighborhood that lives beside it.