Showing posts with label Thomas Jefferson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thomas Jefferson. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 7, 2026

An architectural declaration of independence

The 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence has piqued my obsession with the architecture of its birthplace. Of prime appeal for me is how Independence Hall in Philadelphia (built 1732-1753 as the Pennsylvania State House) was not only designed to create the breathing room, elbow room and room to grow for Continental Congress to debate, shape and ratify this pivotal parchment, followed by the Constitution in 1787, but also conceived with the foresight of America's future expansion and the architectural user-friendliness it would require.

This 1752 drawing shows that the State House had its hip-roofed wings, linked to the headhouse by arcaded hyphens, from the beginning. This civic symmetry touted the edifice's central significance as the seat of the local government.
Independence Hall about 1776. Courtesy of the National Park Service.
The Pennsylvania State House was originally planned with this tripartite arrangement (by 1776, the wings were extended with wooden sheds, most likely for storage of firewood, ammo, animals and such) with the logical intent to distribute and compartmentalize its various bureaucratic functions into separate entities for the sake of efficiency of operation, clarity of location, and hierarchy of social standing. In the central headhouse sat Pennsylvania's Legislative Assembly, Executive Council and Judicial Courts, as well as the Long Gallery the colonial governor used for banquets and public events. 

Independence Hall Tower (1750). Photo by Greg Balfour Evans.
All these government entities were solemnly topped, thereby unified as one architectural composition, around 1750 by the cupola-crowned tower, which landmarked the Pennsylvania State House in a way that signified its supremacy and clarified the carillon of its bells throughout the land of Philadelphia. 

Yes, it was in this tower that the Liberty Bell rang, until its crack reduced it to a sculptural relic of its age, but emblazoned it with its own Mark of Zorro of the justice the founders fought for and the rebellion by which they won us our country.

The West Wing, as its houselike form suggests, housed living quarters for doorkeepers of the Pennsylvania Assembly, as well as books for the Library Company of Philadelphia, which Benjamin Franklin had founded in 1731 to make books accessible to all.
Today the West Wing proudly displays the Great Essentials, original printed copies of the Declaration of Independence, the Articles of Confederation, and the Constitution, paying homage to those founding charters that were debated and drafted in the great room next door.

The identical East Wing stored public documents and governmental paperwork, so that the governing bodies would not be buried in paper as they politicked. Today the East Wing houses the America's National Parks s
tore, a gift shop that sells historical books, 250th-anniversary souvenirs, and mementos such as magnets, postcards, and miniature Liberty Bells. Proceeds from their sales directly fund education and preservation programs at the Independence National Historical Park.

The central foyer, bridal stair, and Palladian window clue us into the Hall's sheer expanse by ushering us up to the grand rooms. We see how architects Andrew Hamilton and Edmund Woolley distributed the Hall's load-bearing columns to create free-flowing space. 
Palladian window, Independence Hall. Photo by JG Photography.
This space was brightly illuminated with a
 Palladian window and double-height side windows. This composition of space and light expressed the freedom the Hall's Founding Fathers envisioned for the colonies that were represented there.

The ornate woodwork – banisters, scrolls, wainscoting, pediments, Palladian window, fluted Ionic pilasters, cornices, crown moldings – gave historical framework to the Liberty Bell until its 1976 relocation to accommodate more tourists.
Today the bell hangs solo in the ultramodern Liberty Bell Center, in plain window-wall sight of its old home but bereft of its historical milieu. Yet this new setting sheds new light and space on the bell's fortes and flaws.




Now we clearly see the wood yoke, its metal ties and bolts, the relief lettering of its recasters' names (Pass & Stow), the clapper, the braces, the rim frayed by souvenir 
hunters' pinching fingers, and the crack – which was not caused solely by ringing, but mainly by repairs gone awry. In 1846, to ring the bell for George Washington's birthday, the existing hairline crack was drill-widened to retard it and reduce its buzz when rung. (Forty drill-marks can be seen along the seam.) This worked at first – the ringing was "clear as a bell" on the Founding Father's anniversary – but soon the fissure spread, silencing the chime for good.
Nonetheless, the crack has become symbolic of the struggle and strain with which our Founders fought for our freedom, emerging scarred and cracked but largely intact. The crack is also a distinguishing mark of recognition that sets this bell apart from others, much as how the Leaning Tower of Pisa derives its tourist appeal 
from its tilt.
The bright, spacious Assembly Room supplied the requisite sunshine, elbow-room and elegance for Pennsylvania Assembly meetings, ratification of the Declaration on July 4, 1776, the signing of it on August 2, and the signing of the Constitution on September 17, 1787.

Congress Voting Independence (1784-1801, Robert Edge Pine & Edward Savage)
The room's ornamental restraint and high coved ceiling lent a sense of civic grace and spatial openness to those occasions (as shown here in Congress Voting Independence, a painting begun in 1784 by Robert Edge Pine and completed in 1801 by Edward Savage) without excessive visual distractions...
Assembly Room, Independence Hall, shown in 1856, by Max Rosenthal.
...though at one time there were more of those, as shown in this 1856 painting by Max Rosenthal (left)
and in the 1905 photograph (below), both done after the room was redone in 1833.
Assembly Room, Independence Hall, 1905. Courtesy of Library of Congress.
At that time it received an elaborate crown molding of triglyphs, triple wall panels,
wider fluted pilasters with carved capitals, and a lavish crystal chandelier. In the mid-1900s the room was restored to a semblance of its original appearance to boost its tourist appeal. This was a mistake, because the 1833 remodeling had historical value of its own and was compatible with the Founders' vision for a democratic but civilized society. The rows of triglyphs nobly symbolized the peaceable meeting-house assembly of multiple delegates and citizens our democracy was founded on, and the triple wall panels served as handsome display frames for pictures of past presidents.

Photo by Corlia van Wyk.
Photo by R. Wallace.
The open-scrolled pediment (left), carved with a scallop-shell surrounded by a leaf frieze, crowns the central seat of the President of Continental Congress (right). 
This 
was the perfect regal mitre for John Hancock to enscribe his famed signature on the Declaration, and for George Washington to preside over the Constitutional Convention in 1787. It is the only feature of the room's 18th-century woodwork to survive the 1833 remodeling. The "Rising Sun" chair, at which Hancock and Washington sat for those milestone episodes, is an English Chippendale chair carved on its crest with the appropriate images of a half-sun, a Liberty pole, and a Phrygian cap, aptly symbolizing the liberty gained through the Revolution.

Also here is the Syng Inkstand, made of fine silver by local silversmith Philip Syng in 1752, into which 56 Continental Congressmen dipped their quill pens to "mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor" by signing Timothy Matlack's scribed parchment of the Declaration.
Declaration of Independence (1786-1818, John Trumbull).
But most of all I can hear the strains of "Sit down, John!" and "Someone oughta open up a window!" echo through the chamber in the movie 1776 as John Adams implores a reluctant Congress to "Vote yes! Vote for independency!" and rants, "We piddle, twiddle, and resolve, not one damn thing do we solve!" in his perpetual plaint about the political inefficiency Independence Hall's architects sought to curb.

To minimize piddling and twiddling and maximize resolution, they conceived the Committee Room. Pedimented doors provided a tasteful setting for the Assembly's committees to resolve conflicts and for local militia to store ammo.
The Governor's Council Chambers provided wood-panel warmth and fireplace radiance for colonial governors' meetings with the Council to green-light or red-light legislation the popularly elected Pennsylvania Assembly had passed.
The Supreme Court Chamber was an incubator for the Pennsylvania Supreme Court's growth in, well, supremacy, as a model for the U.S. Supreme Court. 
Fluted pilasters, triglyph friezes, pediments, turned-baluster rails, and a painting of the Pennsylvania Coat of Arms (replacing King George III's in 1785) lent learned solemnity to the chamber. The trio of arches signified the open democracy to come...
...as did the Long Room, a 100-foot chamber spanning the entire northern front of the Hall's headhouse, carefully designed with no obstructing columns or walls, so that the colonial governor of Pennsylvania could pack it to capacity for his receptions and banquets. 
The Artist in His Museum (1822, Charles Willson Peale).
This floor-through space came in equally handy as a hospital/jail for wounded colonial prisoners of war during the British Army's occupation of Philadelphia in 1777-78, and, from 1802 to 1827, 
an exhibit space for Charles Willson Peale's (right) collection of fossils, shells, rocks, minerals, insects, 700 American birds, painted portraits by Charles and Rembrandt Peale (his son), and a massive fossilized mastodon skeleton. This was one of America's first natural history museums, giving rise to New York's American Museum of Natural History and Boston's Museum of Science. And to think that it all began where it all began!

Independence Hall in Philadelphia was the bastion of many beginnings – architectural, social, political, scientific – and provided generous, open, well-designed space for the American experiment in participatory democracy to develop, flourish, and inspire other nations.

Thank you for visiting. I welcome your comments!


Sources:

"Architectural Change Over Time," National Park Service: Independence National Historical Park, last updated September 22, 2016, https://www.nps.gov/inde/learn/historyculture/places-independencehall-architecture-changeovertime.htm

Confinity Heritage Editorial, "Independence Hall: History, Attractions, & Visitor Guide," Confinity, updated July 20, 2026, https://www.confinity.com/landmarks/independence-hall

Diethorn, Karie, "Peale's Philadelphia Museum," The Encyclopedia of Greater Philadelphia, 2015, https://philadelphiaencyclopedia.org/essays/peales-philadelphia-museum/

Finkel, Ken, "Short Shrift for the Long Room at Independence Hall," The Philly History Blog, October 20, 2011, https://blog.phillyhistory.org/index.php/2011/10/short-shrift-for-the-long-room-at-independence-hall/

Glessner, Rusty, "Exploring Independence Hall in Philadelphia," PA Bucket List, https://pabucketlist.com/exploring-independence-hall-in-philadelphia/

Greger, Mike, "Independence Hall in Philadelphia: Your Guide to the Building that Changed History," Visit Philadelphia, last updated on May 13, 2026, https://www.visitphilly.com/things-to-do/attractions/independence-hall/

"Independence Hall," UNESCO World Heritage Convention, 2013, https://whc.unesco.org/en/list/78/

"Independence Hall," Wikipedia, last edited on 21 September 2026, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Independence_Hall

"Independence Hall History," The Constitutional Walking Tour, December 2, 2016, https://www.theconstitutional.com/blog/2016/12/02/independence-hall-history

"Independence Hall Was Almost Demolished by the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania in 1812, But Saved by the City of Philadelphia," The Constitutional Walking Tour, April 10, 2019, https://www.theconstitutional.com/blog/2019/04/10/independence-hall-was-almost-demolished-commonwealth-pennsylvania-1812-saved-city

"Independence National Historical Park," Britannica, https://www.britannica.com/place/Independence-National-Historical-Park

Kim-Dannibale, Anne, "How to visit Independence Hall–the building where America was born," National Geographic, July 2, 2026, https://www.nationalgeographic.com/travel/article/everything-to-know-about-independence-hall-world-heritage

Mires, Charlene, "Independence Hall," The Encyclopedia of Greater Philadelphia, 2012, https://philadelphiaencyclopedia.org/essays/independence-hall/

Strahan, Derek, "Assembly Room, Independence Hall, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania," Lost New England, November 27, 2019, https://lostnewengland.com/2019/11/assembly-room-independence-hall-philadelphia-pennsylvania/

Friday, February 19, 2021

A great leap forward in ARCH-itecture

Gateway Arch (1965-68, Eero Saarinen), St. Louis, Missouri, as seen from Mississippi River. Photo by Buphoff (CC BY-SA 3.0).

Streamlined in a space-age sheen of stainless steel, the Gateway Arch in St. Louis springs 630 feet high and wide across the Jefferson National Expansion Memorial Park in a seamlessly soaring hyperbolic arc, calling to mind the path of Superman leaping tall buildings in a single bound or a model rocket launching, leaping and landing in one fell swoop.

And you'll be going on your own space odyssey as you take a ride in a spaceship-like tram car, comfortably equipped with buttock-contoured bucket seats, upward through the innards of the concrete-reinforced steel arch...

Tram car photo (left): Robert Lawton (CC BY-SA 2.5). Deck photo: Daniel Schwen (CC BY-SA 4.0).
...and dock at its summit observation deck, where you'll feel like the Man of Steel as you gaze down at the breathtaking, far-reaching vistas of...
Photo by Kelly Martin (CC BY-SA 3.0).
St. Louis City and County to the west... 

Photo courtesy of STL Family Attractions Card.
and the Mississippi River and southern Illinois to the east—a 30-mile view on a clear day. 

Photo by Paul McDonald (CC BY-SA 4.0).
"Since you can't see the base of the arch, you think you are floating," an observer wrote of his childhood visit to the Gateway Arch in 1968, the year of its dedication, on the now-defunct AAA website aaatravelviews.com.

Photo courtesy of the U.S. Air Force.






Comprising a pair of identical equilateral triangular legs tapering from 54 to 17 feet per side as they rise and meet at the top, this mathematical masterpiece was designed in 1947 by Finnish-American architect Eero Saarinen and structural engineer Haanskarl Bandel as a memorial to the Westward Expansion of the United States, as initiated by President Thomas Jefferson's 1803 Louisiana Purchase from France, St. Louis's resulting establishment as America's first civil government seat west of the Mississippi, and Lewis & Clark's 1804 expedition to the mouth of the Columbia River on the Pacific Ocean.

Photo by Becherka, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
Situated in a 91-acre park on the city's original riverfront settlement site on a central axis with the domed Old Courthouse—where Missouri slave Dred Scott's case to live as a free man in free states across the river was rejected in 1857—the arch is a direct "Gateway to the West," symbolizing our great leaps forward in national growth, social progress, technological development, and architectural evolution, classical to modern. 

The Gateway Arch is Missouri's tallest publicly accessible structure and the nation's tallest commemorative monument, surpassing Texas' 570-foot San Jacinto Monument by 60 feet and Washington D.C.'s 555-foot Washington Monument by 75 feet.

Thus the Gateway Arch has become St. Louis's signature iconic image, earning a central appearance on the reverse of Missouri's state quarter in 2003. 

Thank you for visiting. I welcome your comments!


Friday, May 17, 2013

Power and pallor in presidential libraries and museums — Part II

McKinley mediocrity, majesty
 
Photo by Bosley52, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
The William McKinley Presidential Library and Museum (did you say "mausoleum"?) in Canton, Ohio, looks even deader, like a '60s college campus design dinosaur. But it makes up for its mediocrity with a presidential museum rarity — a science center with wildlife, fossils, electricity demos, a planetarium, a "Fascination Station" robot exhibit, and, yes, dinosaurs!
 
Photo by BFDhD, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
Its cathedral window arcade may be giving a token reference to the Greco-Roman temple front of McKim, Mead & White's National McKinley Birthplace Memorial (1915-1917) in his home town of Niles, Ohio: “Seen from the approach on Main Street, the building will be dominated by its central feature, a colonnade or propylaea leading into a court of honor.
 
Photo by BFDhD, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
"It is this court, the atrium of the old Roman palaces where the statue of the household god stood, which is to be the climax of the entire structure.” (The New York Times, Jan. 17, 1915)  

J. Massey Rhind's McKinley likeness, erect at a stance almost as rigid as an ancient Egyptian Pharaoh statue, does exert godlike dominion over the Georgia marble court of honor, extolling the steadfastness with which McKinley declared victory in the Spanish-American War, acquired Puerto Rico, Guam and the Philippines from Spain as part of the peace settlement, annexed Hawaii, raised protective tariffs to promote American industry, and defended the gold standard in the face of William Jennings Bryan's "You shall not crucify mankind upon a cross of gold" speech advocating free silver coinage instead. 

One of many McKinley statues to crop up across the country after his assassination, it's a typical pedestalization of a fallen president as a monumental might-have- been, akin to the frenzy of John F. Kennedy memorial-building, bust-casting, half- dollar minting, and school and airport renaming that followed his fall. So this museum-library-statuary complex, classically handsome and awesome and eye-filling as it is, is a bit overdone.
 
But the McKinley National Memorial (1907) in his second home town of Canton, Ohio, is a more modest affair (making Grant's Tomb also look overdone). Designed by Harold Van Buren Magonigle, this mausoleum (a real one this time) for McKinley's body sits on a site he often visited, and for which he recommended a war memorial for Stark County soldiers and sailors. Commanding its hill with the strategic surety of a Civil War major (which McKinley had been) and the scientific certainty of a planetarium (maybe the McKinley Museum's one should be here!), it tempts us up the long, high stair and through the Roman-arched portal to share a personal moment with McKinley inside, in more of the intimacy of a yurt than the grandiosity of a court. 
 
Photo by Michael D. Harlan, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
The McKinley statue on the stair is also more true-to-life than his Birthplace Memorial's stick figure. Sculpted by Charles Henry Niehaus, this likeness was modeled on a photo of McKinley snapped by White House photographer Frances B. Johnston at Buffalo's 1901 Pan-American Exposition shortly before he was shot there. Speaking of which...
 
...the mausoleum is also a memorial to the expo's Temple of Music, in which anarchist Leon Czolgosz gunned down the President on Sept. 6, 1901. The temple's crowned dome, arched door, square fronts and stone blocks are recalled in the Memorial in a more mournful, less majestic way.
 
From Thomas to Thomas
 
Photo by Quarterczar, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
The white classical columns, entablature and fretwork balconies, the black window shutters and the red brick walls that bestow scholarly distinction on the Pavilions of Thomas Jefferson's University of Virginia (below) do the same honors for Thomas Woodrow Wilson's Birthplace and Presidential Library, a.k.a. The Manse (1846, left), in Staunton, Va.
 
Photo by Timothy Jarrett, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
As a UVA alumnus, a Princeton University president, and the only U.S. President with a Ph.D., Woodrow Wilson deserves these academic architectural attributes, which also express the intellectual rigor he brought to postwar peace propositions: the Treaty of Versailles ending World War I, his Fourteen Points, and the League of Nations that preceded the United Nations.
 
Calvin's castle
 
Calvin "Silent Cal" Coolidge certainly didn't get a quiet-looking haven for his Presidential Library and Museum. The Richardsonian Romanesque Forbes Library explodes gables, bays and turrets every which way, contrasts rocky granite with dark sandstone, and boasts bold Roman arches.
 
But the early 1890s public library is given a quiet location, a rural setting in Northampton, Mass., where Coolidge practiced law in his youth and retired after his presidency. Indeed, Coolidge's contrasting characteristics are shown here: the building's boldness expresses his outspokenness in his speeches as Northampton mayor, Massachusetts governor, vice president and president, while its setback site suggests his withdrawn state in private social settings.
 
The quiet atmosphere of a public library, too, befits Silent Cal's thoughtfully taciturn personality in private, while the building's grand arches, Guastavino tile vaulting and decorative accents allude to his flamboyance in the political arena, as well as his conservative, traditionalist values. 

HoJo Hoover
 
In contrast to the country-manor class accorded the Calvin Coolidge collection, his successor's Presidential Library and Museum in West Branch, Iowa, was a rustic ramble of neocolonial nostalgia when dedicated in 1962 by Harry Truman and Herbert Hoover himself.
 
Intended to blend with the bucolic charm of the country cottage where Hoover was born in 1874 (left), the new complex ended up resembling a roadside restaurant like Friendly's or Howard Johnson's in its use of the rugged flatstone and fake colonial facings that were fad at the time.
 
Photo by Shadow2700, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
Similarly, Ronald Reagan rededicated the building in 1992, following its $8 million facelift and expansion, with a new porch, multipaned windows and French doors typifying the tacky postmodernism of Reagan's era of excess.

Rustic Roosevelt

For details, see Part III of this post (link here)...