'Private eyes, they're watching you...'

Mayor's Suite/City Council Chamber windows, Boston City Hall (1969, Kallmann-McKinnell-Knowles). Photo: Epicgenius.

Boston City Hall (1969, Kallmann-McKinnell-Knowles). Photo by Daderot.

...and they could indeed see your every move, if someone does happen to be watching you from the privacy of whatever room lurks behind those eyelike twin windows, while you transfix your eyes onto them in awe at their in-your-face stare at your lowly self.

City Council Chamber, Boston City Hall, in 1981. Photo by Bill Lebovich.

That classic Hall & Oates song from 1981 flashed in my mind as I noticed an image of the two watchful windows of the City Council Chamber (left) in Boston's City Hall, which were clearly designed to enable city councilors to keep vigil on the city they're leading, reassure us that they're watching over us like angels, or remind us that "Big Brother is watching you," in George Orwell's words of warning from 1984. 

Victorian blast furnace, Shropshire, UK. Photo by David Humphreys.

That is but one example of the "two eyes" effect in worldwide architecture, as designers integrated the semblance of faces or ogling eyeballs into their buildings, whether deliberately or accidentally. They were either calculated attention-getters as sales or leasing pitches for the structures, or simply sources of sunlight that just happen to have facial features. This Victorian blast furnace (right) was probably not meant to be facially comical, but we can't help seeing its elongated windows as eyes, its circular vent as a nose, its arched entry as a mouth, its chimney as a raised arm, and its gabled roof as a peaked hat.

Photo courtesy of Build Green New Homes.

In fact, I was taught to recognize eyes and faces in houses as early as third grade, courtesy of the following poem:

HOUSES

by Aileen Fisher

               Houses are faces

               (haven't you found?)

               with their hats in the air

               and their necks in the ground.

               Windows are noses,

               windows are eyes,

               and doors are the mouths

               of a suitable size.

               And the porch – or the place

               where porches begin –

               is just like a mustache

               shading the chin.

One of greater Boston's most instantly recognizable "faces" is the rounded, oddly detailed front entrance façade of the famous Harvard Lampoon Castle in Cambridge. Built in 1909 from a composite design of Dutch Gable, Flemish Renaissance, Elizabethan, Jacobethan and English Medieval styles by Edmund March Wheelwright (who embellished it with real imported 17th-century Delft tiles, Belgian leaded windows and a genuine Elizabethan mantelpiece), this oddball mashup of sometimes incongruous architectural details bespeaks the humor of its interior publication with a comical face, comprising a crowned bowler hat, porthole eyes with lozenge frames, a cast-iron lantern nose, a lintel-lipped (or mustached) vertical window mouth, a front door like a sideways bowtie, a front-stoop beard, and a cylindrical brick façade suggesting the contours of a ruddy, sunburned or drunkenly flushed human face. 

The façade seems to have the bug-eyed stare of someone shocked or startled in a comedy sketch, in line with the humorous slant of the stomping grounds for such pioneering humorists as Robert Benchley, Christopher Cerf, Fred Gwynne, B.J. Novak, and Conan O'Brien.

Harvard Lampoon Castle (1909, Edmund March Wheelwright), Cambridge, Massachusetts. Courtesy of Google Maps.

"Shocked" castle, Iceland. Photo by Ingvild Sommer.

"Shocked" stone house, Gordes, Provence, France. Photo by Celli07.

Similarly "shocked" and "startled" faces abound the world around. 

On this Icelandic castle (above), half-moon transoms, a mouth-like arched window, and "hands up" crenellations create the castle's "shock value." 

Likewise, on this stone house (left) in Gordes, Provence, France, the leaded vertical window-eyes, the off-center chimney nose, and the agape elongated window-opening mouth create a shocked expression on that facade, with the gable on the lower section adding the comical effect of a "mustache." 

"Shocked" or "glum" stone ruin, Skiathos, Greece.

"Surprised" stone house, Cyprus. Photo by Nikta Nikta.

In this somewhat similar stone ruin in Skathos, Greece (above), the elements appear to have carved a shocked or glum expression out of the remains of its arched window "eyebrowed" eyes and its agape Moorish-arched doorway mouth. The dome makes a good bald head.

This stone castle in Cyprus (right) is given a "surprised" expression by its curving plaster "eyebrow" mantels and wide-open squarish netted "eyes," its arrowslit "nose," and its netted window "mouth" surrounded by the "lips" of a black frame.

The white house below, in Heidelberg, Germany, has either a shocked or a sad expression, depending on which of its window pairs you see as eyes. The shuttered larger casement windows above have a look of shock, whereas the small oval eyes below seem sadder.

"Shocked" or "Sad" house, Heidelberg, Germany. Photo by Luftschiffhafen.

Tozzer's transformation

Tozzer Anthropology Building (2014, Kennedy & Violich Architecture), Harvard University. Photo by Todd Larson.

Tozzer Library (1974, Johnson & Hotvedt), Photo courtesy of Flickr.

The recent bestowal of the Harleston Parker Medal / People's Choice Award on Harvard University's Tozzer Anthropology Building (above) is thrilling news. It is the apex of the long-time-coming renewal of one of Harvard's most outmoded, poorly designed, badly lit buildings – that 1974 mound of modernism called Tozzer Library (left).

Entrance to Tozzer Library. Photo courtesy of the Cambridge Historical Commission.

I was contemptuous of that bland brick nothing-box, mainly because I had spent two miserable years there on my first post-college job as a front-desk receptionist and stooge under the most grumpy and bored of bosses. My menial tasks (about which he often teased me about how un-challenging they were) included sticking date-due slips and plates and labels on books, alphabetizing index cards, filling out commercial bindery request slips for new book acquisitions, checking out books and collecting fines for overdue ones from patrons, arranging six free library visits for outsiders, fetching books and senior honors theses for students and profs, answering the same old visitor queries about where the Peabody Museum, the MCZ [Museum of Comparative Zoology] Library, the bathroom, the Xerox machine, the nearest Centrex phone, etc., etc., were, and forever redirecting deliveries meant for the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology next door (below). 

Peabody Museum (1877, Robert H. Slack), Tozzer Library (1974, Johnson & Hotvedt)

Of course, the library's main entrance (above) fooled a lot of people into thinking that was the Peabody Museum, rather than its distinctively Mansard-roofed Victorian brick next-door neighbor (left), which made its modern progeny look like a remnant of an industrial park by comparison.

Tozzer Library (1974, Johnson & Hotvedt), Harvard University.

Which was a shame, considering that one of its architects was E. Verner Johnson, eminent designer of more than 200 museums, from the MIT Museum to the Smithsonian Institution's Arts & Industries Building to an expansion of Boston's Museum of Science. His "museum touch" was sadly absent from this Peabody Museum extension; its replacement is far more museum-like in its form.

And I'm sure you can see how the library externally expressed the ennui of my job (and my hostility toward visitors) with its nondescript exterior, clumsy massing, erratic and sparse fenestration, and awkward continuation of Divinity Avenue's streetscape, all of which made it seem to turn its back on the public – not a very kind architectural invitation inside. But I must say this: it contained one of the first wheelchair-accessible ramps (which has been a construction standard since the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990). However, the crisscrossing ramp usurped the reception area, robbing it of vital space for seating, socializing, and art displays.

Interior of Tozzer Library. Photo courtesy of E. Verner Johnson.

Which may have helped to cramp the rest of the interior as well. Here, the Phoenix seems to reach for more space than it is allotted to fly freely overhead. It is hemmed in by its atrium's narrowness and is illuminated on only one side by a single running clerestory. Glaring fluorescent cove lighting has to make up for the deficit of natural light.

Study area in Tozzer Library. Photo courtesy of William M.C. Lam.

In Perception and Lighting as Formgivers for Architecture (1977), William M.C. Lam explained his lighting of the library: "The book stacks were oriented perpendicular to the long axis of the coffers so that the books would 'see' the brightest portion of the ceiling."

Study area in Tozzer Library. Photo courtesy of William M.C. Lam.

And so did its patrons – too much. The ceiling's brightness permeated the atmosphere with an antiseptic, hospital-like glare that made users miss the warm glow of the natural sunlight, incandescent lighting, and even candlelight Harvard's older buildings had depended on to shed light on the work of its students, professors and visiting scholars.

Offices and study rooms suffered from the same. Lam wrote, "Track lighting [provides] supplementary task illumination when the larger coffers are subdivided to form small offices [left]. Local lighting is built into each carrel [right]." Which were fine for administration and studies, but did not amount to a very welcoming work or study environment. The clean lines, cove-lit ceiling, off-white palette, and industrial uniformity of the finish materials suggested the absence of something – which certainly contributed to my ho-hum there.

Reception area, Tozzer Anthropology Building, Harvard (2014, Kennedy & Violich Architects). Photos by John Horner.

This is the reception I would have preferred to be greeted with every morning. It's spacious, fluid, comfortable, clear in its direction to other parts of the building, softly hued and shaded, brightly illuminated by sun, and very conducive to stopping to study, socialize, or gaze at the displays. In fact, the two-story Mayan stela, once nestled in a tight corner at the base of the old Tozzer Library's entry ramp, is now given more room to assert its historical identity and beauty, presenting the Tozzer Anthropology Building as one of the world's most renowned repositories of anthropological, archaeological and ethnological artifacts, scholarship and records.

Atrium/lightwell, Tozzer Anthropology Building, Harvard (2014, Kennedy & Violich Architects). Photo by John Horner.

Atrium lounge, Tozzer Anthropology Building. Photo by John Horner.

Copious, opulent sunlight cascades from a far-reaching skylight, blessing studies or lounging with the radiance of nature as an enlightening stimulus, and leaving a fiery glow upon the birch panels, expressing the sun and nature dependency of ancient cultures. Rafters cast diagonal shadows on the woodwork, adding to the angular drama. The old library's cubic confines couldn't present patrons with such a soaring spectacle. The running balcony corridor invites faculty and workers from all corners to partake of this wonder, unlike the "siloing" in the old library.

Peabody Museum and Tozzer Anthropology Building, Harvard University, Cambridge, MA. Photo by John Horner.

What accounts for this wonder? The building's polygonal form, suggesting a prehistoric artifact or ziggurat. The copper-paneled hip roof's angled top creates the diagonal skylight that suns the study lounge, while complementing the Peabody's old roof gables – which Tozzer Library's flat, low roof certainly couldn't do.

Entrance to Tozzer. Photo by John Horner.

The quirky entrance, diapered in patterned brickwork to evoke the spirit of ancient masonry, gives us the sense of entering a cave for an archaeological discovery, while creating engagingly angled light-and-shadow patterns when the sun hits it.

This is a much more enticing, intimate entry into the wonderland of anthropology, archaeology and ethnology than Tozzer Library's blandly square, spatially cumbersome entrance was, which was little different from entering a corporation in a suburban office park every morning. Now we enter an academic/artistic realm, and the relatively small entry door, framed by the angular lines of crafted brick, piques our fascination about the knowledge and culture that lie within.

Tozzer Anthropology Building (2014, Kennedy & Violich Architecture), Harvard University. Photo by Shelley Zatsky.

The unusual rhythm of fenestration on the front and rear facades adds to the playfulness that was sorely lacking in the old library's square sobriety. The variation of window placement among the levels complements the skew diagonals of the skylight roof and entrance, giving the building a sculptural street presence that complements the archaeological stonework on display inside the building and on its grounds. Furthermore, the windows protrude, rather than recede, from their façade, which suggests that the building is bursting with anthropological activity and sunny, sumptuous study space, unlike the boxed-in feeling Tozzer Library gave its workers and patrons.

Tozzer Anthropology Building (2014, Kennedy & Violich Architecture), rear, by the Peabody Museum, Harvard University.

Peabody Museum, Tozzer Anthropology Building entry. Photo by Nicholas Ruhland.

Tozzer Library and the Tozzer Anthropology Building demonstrate how architecture can foster a community and symbolize its academic goals, in the latter case, and can distance its users and spaces from one another and reduce them to do-the-job utility, in the former. Even the ramp distanced the library from the museum, relegating us library staff to the dull side of the tracks. 

Peabody Museum (1877), Tozzer Anthropology Building (2014).

Tozzer entrance sign. Photo by Kent Borg.

The new Tozzer – a finalist for the actual Harleston Parker Medal in 2018, 2020, 2021, and 2025 – unifies Harvard's anthropology, archaeology and ethnology departments and their library into a coherent entity, blended internally by atrium light and fluid circulatory spaces and externally by artful brickwork and regular rhythms of fenestration along Divinity Avenue and in the rear courtyard it shares with the museum. This goes beyond thinking outside the box and correcting a big mistake made by an architect who should have stuck to museums. It bridges the Peabody Museum and its new neighbor into the centrally coherent center for studies and exhibits of ancient cultures Harvard needed all along — as did I.

Thank you for visiting. I welcome your comments!

Remembering the 9/11 FDNY firefighters

FDNY rescue workers at Ground Zero. FEMA photo by Andrea Booher

FEMA photo by Bri Rodriguez

As a former blogger and proposal writer for an architecture firm specializing in fire stations, which designed 21st-century station renovations for Fire Department of New York (FDNY) Engine Companies 63, 217 and 235, I find it fitting to remember the 343 FDNY firefighters killed in the line of duty in their attempts to rescue World Trade Center attack victims on September 11, 2001, 25 years ago today.

Collapse of South Tower on Sept. 11, 2001, 9:59 a.m., as
seen from Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Photo by Paul Joffe.

Those brave, lost souls included three from EC 217 in Brooklyn, who perished in the South Tower's 9:59 a.m. collapse: Steven Coakley (age 36), Neil Joseph Leavey (34), and Lt. Kenneth J. Phelan, Sr. (41) "We were standing in a sea of body parts," surviving EC 217 Lt. (ret.) Thomas McGoff told the Tunnel to Towers Foundation. "Stevie Coakley and Neil Leavey were with me, and they saw people coming out of the South Tower. Meanwhile, they're standing in the collapse zone of jumpers [from the tower]. So Stevie says to me, 'I'm going to take Neil across the street and chase these people up the block. Be careful, stay together, and we'll meet you at the command post.' ... Without Stevie and Neil, we would have lost more civilians by getting hit and killed by jumpers."

"Lieutenant Kenneth Phelan embodied that spirit of selflessness," said New York City Council Speaker Julie Menin at the dedication of a red memorial street sign in Phelan's memory in his hometown of Maspeth, Queens, NY, on July 22, 2026. "On September 11th, he answered the call to serve at a neighboring firehouse that was short a member, giving his life after fourteen years of dedicated service to the FDNY."

Firefighter Steven Coakley.

Firefighter Neil Joseph Leavey.

Lt. Kenneth Phelan Sr.

Collapse of North Tower on Sept. 11, 2001,
10:28 a.m. Photo courtesy of Facebook.

The North Tower's 10:28 a.m. collapse vanquished the entire crew of EC 235, aka the "Monroe Six," at 206 Monroe St. in Brooklyn's Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood: Lt. Steven Bates (age 42), Nicholas Paul Chiofalo (39), Francis "Frankie" Esposito (32), Lee S. Fehling (28), Lawrence G. Veling (44), and Capt. Timothy "Timmy" Stackpole (42), along with Chief Dennis A. Cross (60), last seen entering the North Tower. "My dad was with Captain Timothy Stackpole...their bodies were found relatively close," Cross's youngest daughter, Denise Cross Feldman, told Dons Press. "On that ride to Bellevue [Morgue], the city was quiet, solemn, covered in dust, covered in debris, plastered with pictures of the missing, a slow motion movie that Hollywood can never replicate, never... 

"With every breath I took in, I felt strong like my dad. I felt special and proud that I had a dad who risked his own life each day to save the lives of others."

Chief Dennis A. Cross.

"On March 10, 2001, Timmy returned to his lieutenant's job – full duty," his widow, Tara Stackpole, told the National Fallen Firefighters Association (NFFF). "He was promoted to captain on September 6, 2001, and was in FDNY headquarters, off-duty, the morning of September 11. Of course, he responded... His remarkable story has inspired many and his love for the job has touched many firefighters across the country."

Capt. Timothy "Timmy" Stackpole.

Lt. Steven J. Bates.

Firefighter Nicholas Paul Chiofalo.

Firefighter Francis "Frankie" Esposito.

Firefighter Lee S. Fehling.

Firefighter Lawrence G. Veling.

World Trade Center firefighter requests ten more colleagues.
U.S. Navy photo by Journalist First Class Preston Keres.

Joan R. Daley of EC 63 in the Bronx died of cancer at age 55 on September 27, 2009, eight years after her part in the 9/11 rescue efforts. She was but one of the more than 600 firefighters who have passed away as a result of inhaling the many toxins the tower collapses unleashed into the air. These include asbestos, benzene, cement/drywall dust, crystalline silica, polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons, and heavy metals such as cadmium, lead and mercury from office equipment and wiring.

Firefighter Joan R. Daley.

"Firefighter Daley was an amazing woman," reported the NFFF. "She was hired by the FDNY in 1982, as one of the first females in the department... She was not only a role model for women, she was a hero for those who felt they didn't belong... In 2001, when the Twin Towers fell, Firefighter Daley participated in the recovery efforts. Sadly, it was these long days that would cause her to become ill and ultimately pass away from cancer. In a career that is dominated by men, Daley broke ground until her retirement in 2009."

FDNY Firehouse Engine Company 10 on 9/11. Courtesy FDNY 10 House.

Ground Zero also highlighted what matters most when we break ground on new or renovated fire stations, designing for those who constantly put their lives on the line for public safety. This design process extends beyond quickening response time, upgrading dispatch technology, and building hardening to provent structural disaster like what happened to FDNY Station 10, across the street from the World Trade Center, on 9/11. Post-9/11

FDNY Firehouse EC 10 after reconstruction. Photo by Michael DiNatale.

advancements in fire station design and construction also encompass decontamination systems with dedicated turnout gear rooms and state-of-the-art toxin-extractor equipment washing machines. These features divide the fire station into "hot," "warm" and "cold" zones.

Decontamination room in new fire station, North Acton, MA. Photo by Maia Kennedy.

The hot zone, or Red Zone, encompasses the apparatus bays that garage firetrucks and exterior equipment storage, that is, the area with the highest contamination. The warm zone, or Yellow Zone, incorporates decon rooms, dirt and toxin extractor washing machines, showers, and specialized Personal Protective Equipment (PPE) cleaning spaces, that is, the transition area between the fire station's dirtiest and cleanest realms. 

Fire station single sleeping quarters. Photo by FirePhoto.

The cold zone, or Green Zone, is the toxin-free living area: living quarters, bunk rooms, kitchens, dayrooms, break rooms, fitness rooms, offices. Cold-zone air pressure is often heightened to stop filtration of contaminants. 

Training room, Northbridge Fire Headquarters. Photo by Robbie Robinson.

New and renovated stations are also receiving single sleeping quarters, as opposed to group dormitories; larger break rooms and kitchens; larger and more apparatus bays with fortified bay doors and slab floors; backup power grids and substations; and more spacious high-tech training rooms for growing first-responder forces.

Cambridge Fire Headquarters, Cambridge, MA, in renovation. Photo by Todd Larson.

In the name of both environmental protection and firefighter health and safety, today's stations incorporate sustainable green technology, such as photovoltaic solar panels, LED lighting, and high-efficiency heating and cooling from geothermal wells. This has made some stations net-zero and fossil-fuel-free (left), reducing the carbon footprint.

My old firm practices all these new standards, and more, regularly in its public safety facility designs. The architect's post-9/11 commitment to these design principles earned him coveted admission to then New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg's NYC Design and Construction Excellence Program in 2005. 

This honor enabled the architect to redesign the aging EC 217 and EC 235 in 2009 and EC 63 in 2013. All three of these revamped fire stations were cited as outstanding examples of public safety facility design in We Build the City: New York City's Design + Construction Excellence Program (ORO Editions, 2013).

Engine Company 217, Brooklyn, NY, built 1909, renovated 2009.

EC 217 and EC 235, built respectively in 1909 and 1895 as single-bay fire stations, each received a hardy new apparatus slab floor with drainage and firetruck maintenance systems. These met FDNY standards for supporting the 90,000-pound fire vehicle that hadn't been around in the days of the horse-drawn fire wagons these stations were built for, and was certainly needed for extreme emergencies like 9/11. EC 217 was reinforced with a new concrete truck apron for structural disaster hardening and containment of toxic fumes from the new bunkrooms, restrooms and offices on the upper floor, but its historic frontage was restored.

Engine Company 235, Brooklyn, NY, built 1895, renovated 2009.

As part of its own historic restoration and structural disaster hardening, EC 235 was tuck-pointed with new mortar and crowned with a new copper roof, ensuring it an additional century of service to its old neighborhood. The service of both stations was fortified with new housewatches and gear grids with the most advanced FDNY dispatch technology, allowing firefighters quicker response.

Engine Company 63, Bronx, NY, first organized 1896, renovated 2013.

EC 63 was expanded to house three fire vehicles – Batallion 15, Engine 63, and Ladder 39 – to expand its readiness for emergencies. Structural disaster hardening was supplied with an all-new structure and façade, faced in ash-gray with a terra cotta rainscreen and inset cement board panels, contrasted with fortified red bay doors and an American flag waving on a flagpole, in remembrance of 9/11 and other firefighter tragedies, and as an expression of fortitude in the face of danger. Toxic fume containment was fully taken care of with a decontamination area on the first floor, safely separated from the new bunkrooms, lockers, restrooms, fitness center, offices, and training/study rooms on the upper level.

Ladder 39 exits EC 63 in the evening.

We Build the City described EC 63's renewal as follows: "This expansion doubles the building's size and meets Fire Department of New York guidelines – giving firefighters the room they need to perform their duties safely and effectively." 

Awards the renovation of EC 63 received include the Bronze Place 2013 National Station Style Design Award for Renovated Fire Station Design from Penton's Fire Chief Magazine, in addition to the 2014 Fire Station Design Excellence Award from the Fire Industry Education Resource Organization (F.I.E.R.O.).

FDNY rescue workers at Ground Zero. FEMA photo by Andrea Booher.

As we remember 9/11's fallen FDNY firefighters, as well as the 72 lost NYPD law enforcement officers and the 2,977 civilian victims all those brave souls endeavored to rescue, let us move forward with the most advanced fire station design and construction possible to more fully equip our first responders for earth-shaking calamities such as this.

Never Forget.