Tuesday, November 3, 2026

Reconcilable differences

Düsseldorfer Schauspielhaus (1970, Bernhard Pfau), Düsseldorf, Germany. Photo by Joe Shoe.

Düsseldorfer Schauspielhaus. Photo by Wuppertaler.
Few Modernist architects were as diametrically opposed in design philosophy and building technique as Le Corbusier and Frank Lloyd Wright. Corbu conceived architecture as the generator of a "machine for living," sculpting its forms in concrete as an economical alternative to stone and an affordable medium of mass production.

Guggenheim Museum (1959, Frank Lloyd Wright), New York. Photo by Ajay Suresh.
Wright, however, shaped his later designs to reflect nature's forms, contours and substances, tapping into the natural resources of his building materials to exhibit nature's power to improve the way we live, create memorable living spaces, and show all nature offers us. His Guggenheim Museum in New York, for instance, draws on the helix of the nautilus shell to create a curvilinear continuity in the viewing of art inside.

These opposing forces find a surprisingly happy medium in Germany's Düsseldorfer Schauspielhaus – or D'HAUS for short. Built in 1970 from a Modernist design by Bernhard Mathäus Pfau, it is the largest spoken-word theatre in Germany's North Rhine-Westphalia region.

Photo by Christoph Schroeter.
Which gives it ample space for its 50-strong ensemble of thespians and 350 "tech" people – set designers and builders, lighting designers and technicians, costume designers, makeup specialists – presenting about 900 productions annually, which the vast, fluid open-concept spaces make possible due to the ingenious design principles of the two master builders Pfau drew on.

Villa Savoye (1930, Le Corbusier), Poissy, France. Photo by Valueyou (talk)

Düsseldorfer Schauspielhaus from above. Photo by Sebastian Hoppe.
The concrete sculpture and ground-floor piloti support of Corbu's Villa Savoye in France and the dramatic swirls, curved corners and stacked levels of Wright's Guggenheim Museum work wonders together to form a building that serves as a monument to the drama – and the space – we're about to experience inside.

Looking into the lobby of the Schauspielhaus. Photo by Marcin Otulak.
As in Corbu's Villa Savoye, the pilotis create an open-shelter first floor that gives us a sneak preview of the structural drama in store for us as we walk into the lobby. The first floor also shelters us from the elements, as the union between inside and outside that both Corbu and Wright sought in architecture, in their own ways.

Düsseldorfer Schauspielhaus interior. Photo by Marcin Otulak.
The exposed concrete structural members in the lobby themselves are a sight to be seen, as if organically bursting out of their supporting column of origin like the branches of a tree. Wrightian nature-based organicity and columnar support and Corbusian concrete construction work in concert to create an open-concept space that doesn't depend on a lot of columns to support itself.
Schauspielhaus, Düsseldorf, reception area. Photo by Sebastian Hoppe.

In fact, the explosion of concrete ribs – derivative of rib-vaulting in a Gothic cathedral – expresses both the drama in the theater and the festive movement of the guests as they mill around and chat at intermission or before or after a performance. The motion of architecture and the motion of its users form a dramatic harmony in the space.

Photo by Marco Susani.
Corbu's pilotis and Wright's organic columns also cooperate to form a far-reaching continuity of space (as the façade's exterior curves freely express) by distributing their load-bearing capacities far and wide, each fulfilling a proper role in load distribution where necessary. This frees up ramps and stairs to usher minimally obstructed user passage from one level to another.

Photo by Robert Gassenhofer.

Photo by Kira.
Note how the polarity between Corbu's pilotis and Wright's organic columns resolves itself in a yin-yang harmony of proper weight distribution. 

This allows for more and longer ramps, stairs and mezzanines to lead guests toward the many different theaters in the complex, while allowing for crowd overflow for each of them, in a ubiquitous dance of curvilinearity that parallels the terpsichorean delight of the performances themselves. 

This open-ended, open-concept layout also grants the guests maximum visibility of the complex as a whole, so that the stairs, the ramps, and the spaces they create serve as a visual map from one destination to another. 

The soft lighting, the red-orange carpeting, and the paneling cooperate to create a serene space that is easy on the eyes, to ease guests into the darkened theater, or to help them adjust to the light after a performance. 

The lighting is also theatrically festive, exhilarating audiences with a "Broadway lights" effect.

Photo by Hplar Gillih.
On that note, let's raise a glass and drink a toast to the two master builders who, in a way, made the success of the Düsseldorfer Schauspielhaus possible, through a posthumous reconciliation of their design differences. 

As much of an organic sculpture as it is a machine for living, these normally opposing forces together created a dramatic visual tension in the building that physically embodies the drama presented inside, as well as the drama of audience excitement at seeing a new production and having a lot to say about it afterward.

A toast to Le Corbusier, Frank Lloyd Wright, and Bernhard Pfau!

Thank you for visiting. I welcome your comments!


Sources:

"Düsseldorf Playhouse," Theater der Zeit, https://tdz.de/spielort/duesseldorfer-schauspielhaus

"Düsseldorfer Schauspielhaus," Wikipedia, last edited on 18 March 2026, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/D%C3%BCsseldorfer_Schauspielhaus

"Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum," Wikipedia, last edited on 15 October 2026, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Solomon_R._Guggenheim_Museum

"Villa Savoye," Wikipedia, last edited on 19 July 2026, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Villa_Savoye

Monday, November 2, 2026

A masterpiece from the minds of mediocrities


This Instagram image of a cable-suspended spiral ramp took me by surprise – not so much for the design, but for the designers, who were so known for modernist mediocrity in architecture that it was hard to believe they could come up with something as ingenious as this. 

They happened to be Charles Luckman, notorious for ruining Boston's cityscape with the Prudential Tower in 1964, and William R. Pereira, for doing the same to San Francisco's skyline with the Transamerica Pyramid in 1972.

Completed before both of those skyscraper bombs, this sculpturally inspired aluminum ramp floating over a dark reflecting pool from its forest of delicate vertical tension cables suspended from the ceiling was designed for Convair Astronautics (General Dynamics) in Kearny Mesa, San Diego, in 1958, as a symbol of the aerospace industry's pursuit of weightlessness in space.

Look at that, and look at these: The sculptural flourish and floating buoyancy of the ramp is replaced by the immutably bland boxiness of the Prudential Tower (left) and the triangular elongation of the Transamerica Pyramid (right). Both show total disregard for the historic neighborhoods and skylines they "came from another planet" to settle into, serving merely to promote their respective life insurance companies with eye-catching icon
ography the insurers will be remembered for, with no attempt to blend with their cities' traditions.

By contrast to the superficial symbolism of the towers, the ramp richly symbolizes its company's space-travel goals by creating a sculptural floating-in-air impression in the lobby, even inviting visitors to partake of the show by walking up the 5-inch-thick ramp from the lobby to the executive offices, and feeling virtually weightless, as opposed to taking elevators up the towers to get bird's-eye views.
The ramp's role at Convair was symbolic rather than practical. Built to develop the Atlas Missile – the first Intercontinental Ballistic Missile in the U.S., which sent the Mercury astronauts into space – the plant displayed the ramp to promote its ongoing development of gravity-defying aerospace engineering and space travel, not as anything for the "House of the Future."

Unfortunately, Luckman & Pereira's engineering triumph is no longer there. It was demolished in 1997, along with the General Dynamics plant when the end of the Cold War and decline in defense spending closed the facility, to make way for a residential and commercial complex. While 
their skyscraper disasterpieces continue to mar the Boston and San Fran skylines, their spectacular spiral ramp is preserved only in photography, as a reminder to us about what middling minds can do once they are properly applied.

Thank you for visiting. I welcome your comments!


Sources:

"Cable suspended ramps/stairs," Eng-Tips.com Engineering Forums, November 2, 2018, https://www.eng-tips.com/threads/cable-suspended-ramps-stairs.445924/

"Defying gravity within a corporate lobby," Archinerds, Instagram, October 29, 2026, https://www.instagram.com/p/DfFh--ekXfI/?obrf=NGw4cDF1aHh5NWRi

Leslie, Stuart W., "Spaces of the Space Age," Smithsonian Magazine, August 2013, https://www.smithsonianmag.com/air-space-magazine/spaces-of-the-space-age-332231/

"Pereira & Luckman – General Dynamics," ChronoPoints, January 4, 2020, https://chronopoints.eecs.ucf.edu/2020/01/04/gd_kearny_mesa/

"Prudential Center (Boston)," Wikipedia,  last edited on 30 June 2026, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prudential_Center_(Boston)

"Transamerica Pyramid," Wikipedia,  last edited on 16 October 2026, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Transamerica_Pyramid

"William L. Pereira and Charles Luckman completed the Convair Astronautics Plant in San Diego, California, USA, in 1958," Archinerds, Instagram, October 2026, https://www.instagram.com/p/DezZjfzig7y/

Sunday, November 1, 2026

The telephone's Boston roots

This year marks much more than the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. We are also celebrating the 150th anniversary of the independence of oral/aural telecommunication, by virtue of Alexander Graham Bell's invention of the telephone in 1876. Since we owe Bell a bell-ringing for making possible our cellphones in our pockets, at the ready to send and receive calls, text messages, photos, videos and much more, I wonder how many are aware of the phone's Boston roots. Stumbling on this c.1900 Facebook image of Court Street, I instantly recognized the Palace Theatre building on the right as where it all began, up in the cozy attic shown above.

109 Court Street, Boston, 1879. Courtesy of Library of Congress.
At that time, 109 Court Street was a handsomely modest brick rowhouse that blended so many architectural styles it was hard to categorize: Gothic (lancet arches), Romanesque (round arches), Neoclassical (paneled pilasters and Corinthian capitals) Victorian Brick (keystones and corbelled cornice), and French Second Empire (Mansard slate roof, which gave Bell the space to do his work in secret). Oddly enough, Bell's dormer blends the Gothic lancet with the Romanesque round arch. Perhaps this stylistic indefinition foreshadowed the unpredictable novelty of the telegraphic-telephonic experimentation taking shape up there at the hands of both its owner and his most famous employee.

Alexander Graham Bell's laboratory, as reconstructed at
185 Franklin Street (Verizon Building), Boston. Photo by
Carol M. Highsmith, courtesy of Library of Congress.
Bell's laboratory (here reconstructed in the lobby of the New England Telephone & Telegraph Building, later the Verizon Building, at 185 Franklin Street, Post Office Square, in the 1940s after 109 Court Street was demolished in 1931) occupied the attic after telegraphic instrument manufacturer Charles Williams Jr. set up shop in 1862 in the attic and the loft below at 109 Court Street, where he built a weight-driven telegraph he patented, and built a duplex telegraphy system for the Franklin Telegraph Company's use on its transmission lines between Boston and New York. 
In 1868, Thomas Alva Edison worked in Williams' shop, developing a self-adjusting relay, a stock printer, a fire-alarm-signaling telegraph, a vote-recorder for legislative bodies (which he patented), and a double transmitter for duplex telegraphy, all born in Williams' Boston office.

Williams rebuilt 109 Court Street 
as pictured above and to the right in 1868 after a fire, giving it tall windows and a dormered Mansard roof – elements of High Victorian Gothic architecture – to illuminate, expand, and externally express the high ceilings, roomy laboratories and sunlight needed for such detailed, in-demand work as telegraph instrument production for the telegraphy that had swept the country since Samuel B. Morse and Alfred Vail developed Morse code and the electric telegraph by 1844. Williams went on to patent a pocket-sized telegraph set (a forerunner to today's pocket phones!) and a Phelps/Western Union pattern camelback telegraph key, helping to make Boston a national leader in telegraph instrument manufacturing. This was the perfect opening for Alexander Graham Bell and Thomas Augustus Watson to expand telegraphy into the vocal and aural realm. 

Williams hired Watson as a binding-post turner on a hand lathe, and soon Watson was learning about the scientific principles of electricity behind the telegraph inventors' work he was involved in through study from a library Williams provided and tutoring from Moses Farmer, a leading electrician, who manufactured the Thermo-Electric Battery in the same building.   

Painting of Alexander Graham Bell (left) and Thomas Augustus Watson (right)
in Bell's laboratory, 1876, artist unknown. Image courtesy of MIT Museum.
Alexander Graham Bell, Professor of Vocal Physiology and Elocution at the Boston University School of Oratory, arrived in Williams' shop early in 1874 while working with Farmer on an apparatus and went straight over to Watson for assistance with a transmitter and a receiver of a harmonic telegraph he was developing, that he hoped would send 6-8 messages at diverse pitches at the same time over a single wire.

After failing in this attempt, Bell, an aficionado of sound, language, speech and elocution since growing up with a deaf mother, offered another proposal to Watson in 1875: "If I can get a mechanism which will make a current of electricity vary in its intensity, as the air vries in density when a sound is passing through it, I can telegraph any sound, even the sound of speech."

Beginning on June 2, Bell and Watson experimented away together in that attic with sending multiple telegraph messages at the same time over one line among three stations, two in Bell's office, one in Watson's room. Each station's transmitter and receiver contained a spring steel reed placed over an electromagnet and clamped at one end so its vibration's pitch could be adjusted to get the right pitch on both the transmitting and receiving ends. This led to his disovery of a way to produce a varying electromagnetic circuit, the first step in his development of the telephone.

Alexander Graham Bell's first telephone prototype, 1876.
To keep this experiment in secret until it could be patented, Bell leased two rooms half a mile from Williams' shop in the attic of 5 Exeter Place in Boston's Bay Village, where Watson set up a lab. Bell received his telephone patent on March 7, 1876, and the magic moment occurred on March 10 when Bell spoke into Watson's reed receiver between the Exeter Place rooms, "Mr. Watson, come here. I want to see you."

Alexander Graham Bell's first telephone prototype, 1876, full version. Photo: Zubro.
While Alexander Graham Bell promoted and developed his life-changing invention by exhibiting it in the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia in the summer of 1876 and sending the first phoned-in news dispatch to The Boston Daily Globe from Salem to Boston the following year...

...its birthplace went through a development of its own. By the 1890s, theater impresario William Austin had converted it into the New Palace Theatre, replacing its neoclassical first floor with a wide-arched theater entrance to lure audiences into its live stage variety and vaudeville acts...
...which eventually was replaced with a larger, wider, single-arched entrance with more prominent electric signage, to make room for a more comprehensive box office and to make the theater stand out and flash its lights on the street, especially in the evening, when most performances took place. 

Even in its reincarnation, the New Palace Theatre was dubbed "The Birthplace of the Telephone" in its publicity, perhaps to double the theater's drawing power by landmarking it as a place where history was made (even though the actual history was made at 5 Exeter Place; only the experimentation that led to the birth of the telephone was performed at 109 Court Street).

The New Palace Theatre, 109 Court Street, 1916.
By 1916, the New Palace Theatre was showing Charlie Chaplin film comedies, as well as early silent serial films and cliffhangers. 

In his book The Birth and Babyhood of the Telephone, based on an address he delivered before the Third Annual Convention of the Telephone Pioneers of America at Chicago, on October 17, 1913, Thomas A. Watson himself wrote, "The building where these first telephone experiments were made is still in existence. It is now used as a theater. The lower stories have been much altered, but that attic is still quite unchanged and a few weeks ago I stood on the very spot where I snapped those springs and helped test the first telephone thirty-seven years and seven months before."

Marker of the site of the birthplace
of the telephone. Photo by Stephen Z.
Alas, no more. The New Palace Theatre and The Garrett – the nickname Bell and Watson gave to the attic "where Bell Verified the Principle of Electrical Speech Transmission," in Watson's words – fell to the wrecking ball in 1931, as another example of Boston's reluctance to preserve its past as living, breathing historic landmarks for future generations, just like the Province House and Hancock Manor I discussed in previous posts. But had 109 Court Street survived, it would have likely fallen in the annihilation of Scollay Square for the construction of Government Center in the 1960s. For now a marker with a relief image of Alexander Graham Bell's first telephone marks the site where it all began – and what we can no longer see, as Bell's laboratory reconstruction was dismantled when the Verizon Building was sold around 2009. At least that phone in your pocket preserves the memory.

Thank you for visiting. I welcome your comments!


Sources:

"Alexander Graham Bell," Wikipedia, last edited on 26 October 2026, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alexander_Graham_Bell

"Alexander Graham Bell: Scottish Pioneer of the First Ever Telephone," Scotland's Wild, https://www.scotlandswild.com/alexander-graham-bell

Bellizzi, Courtney, "A Forgotten History: Alfred Vail and Samuel Morse," Smithsonian Institution Archives, May 24, 2011, https://siarchives.si.edu/blog/forgotten-history-alfred-vail-and-samuel-morse

"Bell's laboratory, museum display," Science Photo Library, 87 Lancaster Road, London W11 1QQ, United Kingdom, https://www.sciencephoto.com/media/476491/view/bell-s-laboratory-museum-display

"Charles Williams Jr., Part One: Experimental Apparatus Made to Order," Telegraph-History.org, https://www.telegraph-history.org/charles-williams-jr/

"Charles Williams Jr., Part Two: Human Voice sent via Telegraph," Telegraph-History.org, https://www.telegraph-history.org/charles-williams-jr/part2.html

Fox, Jeremy C., "142 years ago, Alexander Graham Bell made the ‘first telephone message’ in a phone call to The Boston Globe," The Boston Globe, February 12, 2019, https://www.bostonglobe.com/metro/2019/02/12/years-ago-globe-and-alexander-graham-bell-made-history/eps7LNZk245BoBNykVO5EJ/story.html?event=event12

Klein, Christopher, "Alexander Graham Bell's Laboratory," HubTrotter: Blogging about travel and history in Boston and beyond, April 17, 2008, https://hubtrotter.blogspot.com/2008/04/alexander-graham-bells-laboratory.html

"Palace Theatre (Boston)," Wikipedia, last edited on 3 July 2026, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Palace_Theatre_(Boston)

"Palace Theatre (Boston) Facts for Kids," Kids Encyclopedia Facts, last modified on 17 October 2025, https://kids.kiddle.co/Palace_Theatre_(Boston)

"Prototype telephone constructed by Alexander Bell," Science Photo Library, https://www.sciencephoto.com/media/363644/view/prototype-telephone-constructed-by-alexander-bell

Shea, Andrea, "Bell’s first phone call made history 150 years ago in Boston," WBUR, Field Guide to Boston, March 10, 2026, https://www.wbur.org/news/2026/03/10/first-telephone-call-150-years

Watson, Thomas A., The Birth and Babyhood of the Telephone, an address delivered before the Third Annual Convention of the Telephone Pioneers of America at Chicago, October 17, 1913, Information Department, American Telephone and Telegraph Company, https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/54506/pg54506-images.html

Saturday, October 31, 2026

A haunted basement!

Now that another Halloween has darkened our doors and sparked the next generation of costume-festooned trick-or-treaters to stick out their spook-bags for their month's supply of cand-outs, I thought I'd make my annual night-walk to the Haunted Basement, a spine-tingling event put on annually on Halloween by Natasha Ruggieri-Koret, a clerk and notary public at the Watertown Free Public Library, and her live-in partner in the basement of their Watertown home. 
It's a carefully crafted collection of skulls, skeletons, witches, warlocks, masks, monsters, ghosts, ghouls, goblins, corpses, cadavers, stiffs, and any scary apparition your imagination can conjure up. This year's event had a Christian theme, mixing Jesus and the Virgin Mary in with the purgatorial phantasms, as if we were experiencing the Decensus before the Resurrection. Behold:

Too scary for words? I thought so too. But I hope this won't become The Nightmare Before Christmas for you. Happy Halloween!

Thank you for visiting. I welcome your comments!