The Bath Building

Two years ago, I declared the structure above, the Bath Building, as the Ugliest in Raleigh. While I had a change of heart not long after writing the article, it’s still pretty high on the ‘ugly’ list. It is the perhaps the most striking and textbook example of the Brutalist style of architecture. Brutalism is characterized by an imposing rectilinear shape, poured concrete, and sparse use of glass and steel as exterior features.

Raleigh has a plethora of these buildings. Most are in the dead zone, the strip of state government buildings around Blount and Salisbury Streets.

The Ministry of Love was the really frightening one. There were no windows in it at all. Winston had never been inside the Ministry of Love, nor within half a kilometre of it. It was a place impossible to enter except on official business, and then only by penetrating through a maze of barbed-wire entanglements, steel doors, and hidden machine-gun nests.

–George Orwell, 1984

Recently, someone close to me drew the comparison between the state government buildings on Halifax Mall and that of the buildings described by George Orwell. If you’ve read the book, the connection between these buildings and those in the political-fiction masterpiece isn’t hard to make. The Brutalist Style was often associated with social Utopian ideals.

Part of this stems from a true-to-materials construction that wasn’t laden with excess in the form of decoration. Additionally, construction with poured concrete is less expensive than other building methods. This made it appealing to elected leaders spending taxpayers’ money on public buildings.

Raleigh’s Ministry of Love

While the Bath Building is far from the depiction of the Ministry of Love in 1984, the lack of fenestration and imposing nature aren’t that far off, either.

Bath Building when new in 1972. Image credit: Raleigh Boy

Someone involved in the planning and design of the Bath Building commented on the previous article, and provided insight on its unique outer appearance:

There are no windows on the upper two floors because that is where the original labs and administrative functions were located. Windows serve no function in a lab, and wall space was maximized in this manner.

The curious inverted pyramid shape visible from the outside on the upper floors resulted from having to combine a basic laboratory module size with an office module size. It was necessary to rotate the upper floors 45 degrees to accommodate vertical structural elements not being in the middle of halls or rooms. So, in this case the exterior is purely a result of form following function. And believe me, we did take a lot of flack in the early days too. But it is what it is..and has served the citizens of North Carolina well.

–Bill McDowell

The Bath Building

The Ultimate in ‘Form Follows Function’

Although the term Brutalism is associated with a ‘brutal’ form, the word originates from the French term béton brut, meaning raw concrete. It was used by modern architecture pioneer Le Corbusier to describe many of his buildings. Although it differs substantially from the International Style of modernism, it shares many of the same tenets of the modern movement.

The exteriors of these buildings often reveal the use inside. Concrete lines and shapes often reflect interior structural elements. This is in addition to the exterior itself functioning as structural support. Without decorative elements or a focus on making it “pretty”, poured concrete buildings may be the ultimate in form following function.

The AT&T Building: One of the Earliest Examples

Although not a government building, one of the earliest buildings in Raleigh in this style is the AT&T Building near Nash Square. The concrete exterior served to shield the electromagnetic equipment inside. It was built so that telecommunications systems would continue to operate in the event of an attack or other catastrophic event. With no windows, it is an ominous and lifeless tower.

Replacing a Historic Neighborhood with Brutalism

In the 1960s through the early 1970s, North Carolina state government was consolidating the location of administrative buildings in the area north of the Legislative Building (1963), between Salisbury and Blount Streets. The latter was at one point Raleigh’s most exclusive neighborhood, and it was decimated by the state’s plans for an expansive governmental complex.

J.H. Pou house on Blount St. in 1965 (destroyed). Image credit: Raleigh Boy

The state bought up properties and subsequently demolished them, forever destroying many of the grandest houses in Raleigh. You can see this today with numerous old stone walkways that lead to surface parking lots. The end result of the state’s destruction is a dead zone, an area that is deserted during non-business hours.

Capehart House

After the dust settled from the state’s wanton destruction of these historic homes, a few were relocated to Blount Street from other areas in order to preserve them. The Capehart House (above), the Merrimon Wynne House, and the Lewis-Smith House are a few examples.

1861 Seaboard Railroad Building on Halifax Mall

There are a few exceptions to the sea of gray government buildings. One is the 1861 Seaboard Railroad Office Building, above. It was saved from the wrecking ball and moved from its original location in the mid 70s. It is now a just few blocks away on Salisbury Street.

The grand historic homes on Blount Street are now for sale, and the Blount Street Commons project aims to breathe new life in to the area.

Other Examples of Raleigh Brutalism

Wake County Court House

A beautiful Beaux-Arts Court House dating to 1915 was destroyed to make way for this imposing and aggressive tower. It doesn’t exactly instill the kind of feeling you want before walking in to court.

North Carolina Records Building

Rear view of the Records Building

The Wake County Jail

The building most suited for the Brutalist style is the Wake County Jail, to the rear of the Sheriff’s Department.

Albemarle Building

The Albemarle Building in 1977 when Halifax Mall was under construction. Image credit: Raleigh Boy

Archdale Building

The photo above gives the impression that there are more sources of natural light than there actually are. On its longest sides, the archdale building is a vast expanse of a color somewhere between drab gray and white.

The Most Loathed: Harrelson Hall

It comes as no surprise to anyone that’s been in it that Harrelson Hall has several significant shortcomings.

In 2001, a report making the case for a new math building on campus summed it up this way:

Harrelson Hall suffers from major architectural flaws that include: classrooms serving thousands of students each day being immediately adjacent to faculty offices; a poorly designed hallway system [with] intractable problems [of] noise and congestion; unresolved difficulties with heating and air conditioning; external stairways that are neither heated in the winter nor cooled in the summer; no public elevators; no public restrooms in the main part of the building; ad hoc telecommunications wiring; inadequate electrical wiring; an almost total lack of meeting and conference rooms; and no commons areas.

Although initial plans called for the destruction of Harrelson Hall, it appears that has been delayed indefinitely with the construction of SAS Hall.

Brutalism Doesn’t Have to Be Ugly

The Greensboro Municipal Building was designed by Eduardo Catalano, former head of the Architecture Department of NC State’s School of Design.

Greensboro Municipal Building

Far removed from his legendary hyperbolic paraboloid house in Raleigh, Catalano proved that poured concrete doesn’t have to ugly.

With the destruction of the Raleigh house in 2001, this is his only remaining building in North Carolina.

Catalano in front of his 'Casa de Raleigh'. Image credit: News & Observer

Modernist pioneer and Harvard Professor Marcel Breuer described Catalano as ‘one of his best students’. Breuer later became a prolific proponent of the Brutalist Style, so it’s not that surprising that Catalano would follow in the footsteps of his former mentor when incorporating it in to his own designs.

Not Going Anywhere Any Time Soon

There are many buildings of this style currently at risk of demolition in many other cities. Brutalist buildings routinely rank at the top of ‘most hated buildings’ surveys.

Over time, they become even less appealing. The concrete cracks and decays. The surface becomes discolored and easily stained.

Halifax Mall, the large area of gray state government buildings during snowfall

Raleigh has lost modern architecture icons such as the Garland Jones Building and the Catalano House, and others are at risk (Milton Small’s Municipal Building). Unfortunately, their Brutalist cousins are here to stay.

Related Articles

• Reminiscences of a Raleigh Boy, Part 1: The Blount Street Saga
• Harrelson Hall and its Ultimate Demise
• The Bath Building: Ugliest In Raleigh
• From Treasure to Trash: The Demolition of the Wake County Courthouse

Further Reading

• The “Brutal” Wake County Court House (New Raleigh)
• In Defense of Brutalism

I started out with only a Facebook status update and the vague directions “across from the Carmax on Glenwood” to go on. An hour and a half later, I found the Water Garden.

Walking along Glenwood Avenue after it leaves downtown Raleigh, one feels beyond doubt that this is not a place intended for human traffic. Furniture warehouses and car lots sit in misanthropic isolation off of a busy road with no sidewalk. You’re not supposed to walk around here, and if you do, you feel small and lost in a blinding, concrete commercial desert. On foot, you realize how far apart everything is, how much space there is that possibly no one has walked in years.

When I finally found the entrance to the Water Garden, I was surprised I had missed it. It looks like a sign for some vintage funland. Walking down the gravel path from the treeless light on the road, the light gains compassion, becomes photosynthetic, happily leafy. It was surreal, walking off of the hell of Glenwood into a place with such spiritual resonance. I had no idea what any of it meant. It was only after poking around for a while that I discovered:

• It was the home base of Richard Bell for over 50 years
• Richard Bell is one of Raleigh’s iconic landscape architects

I was able to meet with Kim Weiss, Bell’s biographer and close personal friend, and later with Bell himself, and this is what I learned.

Dick Bell in Pullen Park in the 1960s

Richard Bell is perhaps Raleigh’s most beloved landscape architect, although fewer and fewer people know who he is. Bell created landmarks like the Meredith Ampitheater, Pullen Park, and NCSU’s Brickyard, and the beautiful gardens surrounding the Legislative Building. In a real sense, Bell has shaped the ethos of Raleigh in a way all of its inhabitants experience. Bell, or Dick as he’s known to friends, left Manteo in the late 40′s to come to what was about to become Henry Kamphoefner‘s newly established School of Design. Kamphoefner’s vision was to not simply create a talented body of graduates versed in philosophy and the practice of design, but for those graduates to set up shop in North Carolina. Essentially, Kamphoefner dreamed of creating an infrastructure of modern design in North Carolina, not just a school of design in Raleigh. “We were orchestrated to work in North Carolina,” Bell told me. “Eighty-five percent of our graduates went on to work in North Carolina.” Bell told me that Kamphoefner insisted that his faculty not only lecture, but also practice their disciplines, and had distinguished individuals such as Frank Lloyd Wright come and talk to the students. Bell chuckled as he told me that Wright refused to lecture in the Design buildings because he thought they were so ugly. Bell met Wright under a tree near Holladay Hall. “It was an open ended school,” Bell reflected. “Kamphoefner had a master plan for development.”

Kamphoefner’s intense program of training worked, and in 1951, Bell won the Prix de Rome at the age of twenty. “It was- How would you say it?- totally weird,” remarked Bell. He was the youngest individual to ever receive the prize, and in a bold move, asked the committee to delay his acceptance of the prize until he was twenty-one. Surprisingly, they agreed, in part because they appreciated his desire to apprentice in a working landscape architecture office before going to Europe to study. He traveled to Italy and toured thirty countries in Europe, and remarkably for someone raised in the pre-civil rights South, often travelled on a Lambretta scooter with a black sculptor. He cited this experience as a major influence on all of his later work: “It gave me a broader perspective, and that was incredibly valuable.” He came home inspired, ready to start designing in North Carolina.

Image credit: Dick Bell

The Water Garden began when Dick stopped along a then-rural stretch of Highway 70, helped his new bride Mary Jo out of the car, and told her, “If we ever have a place, I want it to be like this.” He told me about showing the site to her that day: “It was so beautiful. The sky reflected in the water. It was way out in the boonies at that time… but there were wetlands, pines- It was a mini-environment of bog and plants.”

Image credit: Dick Bell

There was already a foundation for a building on the property, and with the help of architect John Evans of Florida, the Bells designed and built their modern home over it. The first building became known as the “Chicken Coop”. It was rough going. The Bells did much of the work themselves, and by that time the couple had two young children. “It was rough,” said Bell. “We had two kids, $7000, a plywood floor, and newspapers over the windows for insulation.” But gradually the buildings were completed. It took about 14 years to build the Water Garden, from their first house there to the ultimate office park, gallery, residence and gardens that spread over 11 acres. Finally, in 1963, the Bells held the first art show at their Garden Gallery. Even more than just being a breathtaking piece of modernist design, the Water Garden was crucial for Bells’ career and mission on two levels.

Image credit: Dick Bell

First, Bell used the Water Garden as a laboratory, constantly trying out new ideas and combinations of plants. “I didn’t feel like my clients ought to be guinea pigs,” Bell told me. Bell had inherited a love of plants from his father, Albert Bell, who helped design and build the Lost Colony Amphitheater. Bell grew up in his father’s and grandfather’s nurseries on Roanoke Island, and his green thumb combined with a creative mind produced some innovative ideas for gardening. It was Bell’s idea to create berms around pine trees up to eight feet high- previously, gardeners had assumed that a berm that high would kill pines. Nurseries would send Bell plants to experiment with, and Bell was the first person to take many local plants out of the forest and use them in residential design.

Image credit: Dick Bell

Secondly, and perhaps more crucially, Water Garden was critical in establishing the profession of landscape architecture in Raleigh. Bell built the Water Garden, not only as his home, but as a place that he could point to and say “There. That is landscape architecture.” In a real sense, the construction of the Water Garden was the foundation of Landscape Architecture in North Carolina as a whole. It was a showpiece that opened the door for Bell’s other projects, projects which have helped define Raleigh and the idea of landscape architecture.

It was so interesting to come as an unrecognized pracitioner of an unrecognized profession and say ‘This is what we should do for our city.’ It all came about as a kind of mystical relationship between me and my clients.

Bell’s goal in all of his projects was not simply to create beauty, but to establish landmarks to show what Landscape Architecture could do. ‘Water Garden’ was the first landmark.

Image credit: Dick Bell

Bell’s vision for the Water Garden was that it would be a mixed-use building, in which work, play, and the fabric of living were integrated through the beauty of its design. He saw it as a place not only for living, but in which living and art and design were side by side. The Coop housed a gallery, and the first art opening was held there in 1963. “Mary Jo was in charge of the gallery,” he told me. “We had a sculptor and a painter for the first exhibit.” The Water Garden soon became the cultural center of Raleigh. I work with an older lady who has lived in Raleigh for over fifty years, and she told me that she used to go out to the Water Garden on occasion. Kim Weiss told me how Raleigh’s arts scene in the 60′s and 70′s had its epicenter in Water Garden: “People would tramp out there in the rain. It didn’t matter- they just wore boots.”

As the decades passed, Bell remained prolific in his work but the arts scene moved downtown and development along Glenwood Avenue/Highway 70 West began  to encroach on his and his wife’s oasis. Water Garden was no longer the haven it had been before Raleigh began its spastic sprawl: Cookie-cutter housing developments were being slapped together around the property, and at night, you could see the neon signs of a car dealership through the trees.

Bell knew it was time to leave. He assumed that the property would be passed to his children. Unfortunately, this didn’t happen. Although his daughter and son-in-law were able to take over the design firm, taking over the care of the 11-acre property was simply too much.

“It was rough leaving,” Bell told me, staring into his cup of coffee. “We hadn’t created the proper background for our family to take over. It wasn’t a happy time.” Bell had thought that perhaps the city would buy the property, but Water Garden wasn’t old enough to attain historic status, and Bell ended up selling the property and buildings to developers. “On one hand, he was glad to have [the hassle of taking care of the property] off of his back,” Kim told me. “On the other hand, he spent his life there. It was- and is- a huge loss.”

Unfulfilled Water Garden redevelopment plans, courtesy of Dick Bell

At the moment, no one is sure what will happen to Water Garden. Bell worked tirelessly, and on his own dime, to design beautiful building plans that would allow the developers to preserve the original buildings while incorporating them into larger development schemes, such as a shopping center and a senior care facility, to name a few.

Unfulfilled Water Garden redevelopment plans, courtesy of Dick Bell

“The senior living one was the best one,” said Bell. “I tried to present a plan of adaptive reuse.” The developers didn’t even thank him for his efforts.

Since the property was sold and vacated in 2007, the state of the buildings has grown steadily worse. The place looks like it’s been sacked by Vikings. Scrappers have gutted the walls, most of the windows have been shattered, and traces of paintball wars splatter the walls.

Since I began work on this article, gates have been put up to discourage local vandals from inflicting further damage, but much of the mutilation was a result of the sherriff’s office using the property for training. After a group of high-school students vandalized the property last year, Habitat for Humanity was allowed to salvage what they could.

No one is sure now what will happen to the property, but whether or not the buildings stand, Water Garden will remain a beautiful and central part of Raleigh’s history. “Dick always envisioned Water Garden as a place where people could live, work, play, and interact,” said Kim. “And for a while, it was. It does make me sad, but I know Dick has many monuments. They will live on.” On all of the occasions I talked with her, she didn’t seem to be at a point of resignation, but then neither am I. And perhaps for those who have experienced Water Garden, in any capacity, that resignation will be a long time coming. “OK, Water Garden will disappear. But all the other landmarks Dick designed… Those are still there.”

Many thanks to Kim Weiss for all of her help. Dick Bell’s first book “The Bridge Builders”, edited by Kim, comes out soon.

Unless otherwise noted, all images credit John Morris

More photos from the Water Garden

In mid-March, the Raleigh City Council stalled on the resolution to replace the old Municipal Building with the new Clarence Lightner Public Safety Center. In the past few days, there has been a renewed push in exploring ways to overcome objecting Councillors’ concerns about the cost of the project.

The debates both for and against building the new Lightner Center had valid supporting arguments, but noticeably absent from the debate was the case for preserving the existing structure. That has changed in recent weeks, and I’m going to add my voice to the growing chorus of citizens calling for preservation rather than destruction.

Some Background: Raleigh’s Modern Legacy

Above: some of the buildings photographed for an essay on Modern Architecture in Raleigh

Many cities are known for a dominant architectural style. Miami, Asheville, and Durham are known for their for their splendid Art Deco buildings. New York, San Francisco, and Detroit have large swaths of beautiful Victorian-era architecture. Chicago, Los Angeles, and to a lesser extent, Raleigh, are all known for their modernist buildings.

The Municipal Building that would be destroyed is one of Raleigh’s buildings that contributes to this legacy.

Anchoring Nash Square

Nash Square is in a unique position with regard to the buildings that sit on its perimeter: every side of the square has a modernist structure. In addition to the Municipal Building, there is the News & Observer Building, Raleigh Fire Station One, and the original location of the Raleigh Times. The old Raleigh Times building was retrofitted with a modern facade at some point in the late 60s or early 70s.

Most of Raleigh’s modern buildings (and in particular the residential ones) are on the west side of town.

Designed By a Local Legend

Milton Small's office building near the corner of Hillsborough St. and Brooks Ave.

No other architect has received as much attention on this blog as G. Milton Small. His office building on Brooks Avenue was one of the first architecture articles to be posted to this site, and at one point I proclaimed him as my favorite architect. Milton Small left a mark on Raleigh like few others have.

Lower left is a Milton Small high rise, known as the “Little Seagram Building” after bearing a striking resemblance with the building in New York designed by his mentor.

Historically, Raleigh has been a follower and not a leader when it comes to architecture and trends in design. Small was at the forefront of those that brought these trends to Raleigh. He was a student and disciple of perhaps the most influential modernist architect of all time, Ludwig Mies van der Rohe. Lured to Raleigh like so many others in the early days of the College of Design by Dean Kamphoefner, he had a role in educating others as well as running his own firm.

Why This Building Matters

Recently a cafeteria, above is where Raleigh City Councillors used to meet when the building was the seat of Raleigh government

The building served as the seat of Raleigh Municipal Government for a long time. Decades of decisions that shaped Raleigh’s current path of development were made here.

When the City Councilors of 1959-1960 met in this new building, Raleigh was a much different place. Officers of the RPD would check in via call boxes and payphones. Schools and businesses were segregated. Jesse Helms was young man serving on City Council.

The previous buildings which housed City Government have long since been demolished. The most recent location (above), ironically, was razed to make way for the BB&T Building (now Capital Bank Plaza) designed by Milton Small.

Looking to the Past

Glossy brick is one of the unique features of this building

Everything comes full circle–we generally adore the architecture of our grandparents but not of our parents’ generation. Victorian architecture was very out of fashion at the time in which Raleigh razed most buildings in this style. It wasn’t until a good time later before people began to appreciate it.

Looking to the Future

We’re at a unique point–more and more people are beginning to come around to the beauty of the modern style. So much, in fact, that George Smart of Triangle Modernist Houses has an ever-increasing crowd of fans taking tours of modernist homes. We have an opportunity before us to save this building at the right time, when it is appreciated by the citizens of Raleigh.

The building has been vacated as the Raleigh Police Department has relocated its headquarters. It could serve as commercial or municipal office space. In either scenario, we gain more by utilizing it rather than razing it. Not all buildings warrant being preserved simply because they have been around for a while. This building matters though, and can be modernized and utilized in other ways–a process far more “green” than building a LEED-certified structure.

I’m in favor of building the Lightner Center–our city’s first responders need a state of the art facility. But let’s build it somewhere else, such as on top of one of our countless parking lots. We have the opportunity to preserve a building that embodies an architectural style that Raleigh is known for–we shouldn’t squander it.

Further Reading:

• A Reflection on Modernism in Raleigh (Previous essay on Goodnight, Raleigh!)
• Don’t Demolish the Municipal Building! (Facebook group)
• Renovate, Don’t Demolish Raleigh Municipal Building (Elizabeth Sappenfield, Preservation NC)
• Don’t Remove Our History, Community, or Art (Bonner Gaylord, City Councillor)
• G. Milton Small (Triangle Modernist Houses Bio)

More images from the Municipal Building/Former RPD Headquarters:

Special thanks to Jim Shugrue for giving me a tour of RPD Headquarters before it was vacated.

The street sign where Catalano's famous house once stood

Almost ten years ago, Raleigh lost one of the most impressive and forward-thinking houses the world has ever seen: The Catalano House. It was the first warped plane structure in America, and it inspired a generation of young architects to explore new ways of constructing the spaces we live, work, and play in.

A little over a week ago, the world lost the brilliant architect who was the namesake of the house. Eduardo Catalano died at the age of 92.

His Life Before Raleigh

Catalano, a native Argentinian, had a life-long passion for studying and learning from the geometric forces in nature. In 1945, he entered a General Motors design competition using a hyperbolic paraboloid, and won second place out of 914 entries.

He was a graduate student of Walter Gropius and an undergraduate student of Marcel Breuer, both professors at Harvard and considered the pioneering masters of modernist architecture. The latter described him as one of his best students, and was instrumental in assisting Dean Kamphoefner in bringing him to the new design school in North Carolina. Prior to arriving in Raleigh, he was a professor at the Architectural Association in London.

Roots at NC State’s School of Design

He was lured to the fledgling School of Design at NC State by Henry Kamphoefner, whose brilliant networking skills built the new school into one of national prestige. In an unusual move about a year later, the Dean made him acting head of the Department of Architecture, and shortly thereafter made him a full professor–much to the ire of some faculty.

The hyperbolic paraboloid model in the College of Design library

The Casa en Raleigh

In 1954 he began to build a house for himself that utilized the hyperbolic paraboloid, a shape in which he had been fascinated with for some time.

The roof was a parallelogram which had opposing points in the ground anchored by concrete buttresses that were connected underground by steel tension cables. The other two points were up into the air.

The hyperbolic paraboloid model in the College of Design library

All of the curves of the roof were parabolas. As such, it had an infinite number of straight lines that are parallel to the edges.

Catalano in 1974. Image courtesy of News & Observer Publishing Co.

It is refreshing to see that the shelter, which is the most important element in domestic architecture, has been so imaginatively and skillfully treated as in this house by Eduardo Catalano.

–Frank Lloyd Wright, in a letter to House and Home Magazine

Floorplan for the 'Raleigh House'

Not only did the house receive the incredibly rare praise of Frank Lloyd Wright, but it was also named House of the Decade by the same publication (House and Home).

Image courtesy of Preservation NC

Possibly because of Catalano’s rather meteoric rise within the ranks at the school, he wasn’t fully accepted by all of the faculty. Some would later refer to it as “the potato chip house”, much to his dismay.

Image courtesy of Preservation NC

The following account describes just how sturdy the roof was in the face of a storm:

In the fall of 1954, the area witnessed one of the strongest hurricanes it had ever faced. The morning after I went to the site to see if there was any wind damage. There was none. I was surprised because the pressure of the wind on the structure was compounded by the uplift from below and the tangential suction from above. It should have flown like a leaf or a kite.

The following day a very young man came to deliver rolls of fiberglass sheeting for use in roofing the shell. He saw the twisted roof, opened his eyes wide and, as if trying to comfort me, placed one hand on my shoulder, saying: Oh boy! You really got it!

The Downward Slope

Lured away to M.I.T. by a higher salary, he left the School of Design in 1956, and sold the house to Ezra Meir. While the house brought himself, the School of Design, and the sleepy Capital City of Raleigh international prestige, he never built another one like it.

Image courtesy of Preservation NC

After changing hands a few times, it sat vacant for about 5 years (1996-2001). An unfortunate choice in the building materials for the roof caused it to be compromised through temperature extremes, as no one was living in it to keep an even interior climate.

It would eventually succumb to the elements, and begin to deteriorate. After being condemned by the city and having what little was left salvaged by a Raleigh antiques shop owner, it was demolished.

Image courtesy Preservation NC

As a kid, growing up in the area, I somehow stumbled upon the wreckage of the original Raleigh House, I think I was about 16 at the time. I remember standing in the woods with my high school girlfriend, the fragments of the house laid out before us, almost as if we had stumbled across some great ancient ruin… Vividly, I remember lighting up a cigarette and knowing my life would never be the same, as I had just been unwittingly ushered into the world of architecture.

– William Dodge

Preservation NC bought it on option with the hope of finding a buyer. This was at the end of the 20th century, several years before the appeal of mid-century modernism made a comeback. The costs of repair would have been in the hundreds of thousands, if even possible.

Image courtesy of Preservation NC

Weights suspended from a hyperbolic paraboloid model

Despite falling into disrepair due to neglect in the latter part of its life, Eduardo Catalano’s “Casa de Raleigh” was ahead of its time. The young architect suspended a series of heavy weights along stress points on models to demonstrate its steadfastness and strength.

Opportunity Lost

After a few attempts at recreating this architectural marvel and original Raleigh icon, the passing of Mr. Catalano likely signals the end of such efforts. Clearly any future initiative, if it happens at all, cannot have his involvement. For those interested in Raleigh history and architecture, it’s tragic.

Court of Carolinas

In 2005, Catalano offered generous gift of $1.5 million to build a small pavilion with a hyperbolic paraboloid roof at the lower base of the Court of Carolinas. It would have been 1/12 of an acre in a space of about 5 acres. It immediately provoked an outcry from some NC State faculty, which led to a letter writing campaign to the News & Observer at the time.

It was a very divisive issue. Lewis Clarke, former professor and head of the Department of Landscape Architecture was incredibly vocal in opposition. He and Will Hooker, a Landscape Design professor, immediately undertook a campaign to stop the pavilion from being built at the Court of Carolinas. It was seemingly pitting the Landscape Architecture/Design camp against the Architecture camp. Not wanting to be a source of controversy, Catalano withdrew the offer and the pavilion was never built.

A Brief Hope

Beginning some time last year, George Smart of Triangle Modernist Houses began working with the College of Design to reignite efforts to recreate the iconic house on NC State’s campus. He flew to Catalano’s home on several occasions and met with the aging architect, and worked tirelessly to bring a new version of the house (not just a pavilion) to Centennial Campus.

I have no inside information on what the status of the project currently is, but it’s probably a safe bet that it won’t be moving forward.

A Continuing Legacy

Image courtesy of Pablo Juan Augustinowicz

Raleigh missed out on having a permanent fixture of Eduardo Catalano’s legacy. However, the city of Buenos Aires in his native Argentina has what must be an absolutely stunning sculpture donated by him to the city, the Floralis Generalis. The 18 ton, 75 ft. structure consists of six petals which open at sunrise and close in the evening hours.

Catalano blended a deep understanding of mathematical principles, complex forces at work in nature, the tenants of the modernist movement, as well as his own personal flavor into the structures he designed. Sadly, the work he left behind here was neglected and demolished, and efforts to recreate it in the mid 2000s were squandered by a myopic contingent of some of the NCSU faculty.

Eduardo Catalano was a man truly beyond his time, the likes of which we may never see again. Raleigh was incredibly lucky to have him share his knowledge with architecture students in the short time he was here.

Further Reading

• N&O Obituary
• Triangle Modernist Houses Catalano Bio
• Raleigh Art, Architecture, and Urbanism
• Jet Set Modern: Destroyed Forever

In early 1959, the world-renowned architect Edward Durell Stone formally abandoned the International Style of modern architecture with the unveiling of the new U.S. Embassy in New Delhi, India. Commenting on the new face of the America overseas, Frank Lloyd Wright declared: “It’s the only embassy that does credit to the United States.” Although very well received both then and now, it also put him on a path that would distance him from his peers in the community.

The inspiration for the North Carolina’s new Legislative Building came directly from the new embassy. At the time, the style was labeled as “Decorative Romanticism” and was a lightning rod for attention, both then and now.

The design of North Carolina’s new state house by Stone, in association with the local firm, Holloway & Reeves, was met with scorn. The founding Dean of the College of Design, Henry Kamphoefner, was quoted in the N&O likening the new Legislative Building to the “Raleigh branch of the Four Seasons Restaurant”.

He later blamed the reporter for taking his comments of context and blowing them out of proportion.*

Ralph Reeves (above, right), in association with Stone on the project, replied that Kamphoefner’s comments were “not in accordance with any kind of ethical conduct”. Fighting words over the new project were being exchanged in the papers between local heavyweights.

The State Senate in 1963. Image credit: Architectural Forum Magazine

Although the new building was met with some criticism, it also drew praise:

For North Carolina this structure marks a sharp departure from a long succession of uninspired public buildings. For architect Stone, of course, the building is not a departure but, rather, a restatement of present goals: permanence, refinement of materials, spatial drama, and, in plan, the elimination of corridors by the use of great interior courts.

– Architectural Forum, Dec 1963

The irony in all of this controversy is that it’s widely regarded as the last example of good state government architecture in Raleigh. The buildings that surround it on the state government mall are bland and boring at best.

Straddling a line somewhere between historical cues, lavish design, and modern design principles, it didn’t fit any known quantity at the time. Stone didn’t use the familiar Greco-Roman Ionic columns, arched entryways, or prominent pediments that people had come to expect from established state architecture.

It also wasn’t the minimalist modernist aesthetic, best illustrated locally in the Milton Small office building or the current Ralegh Orthopaedic Clinic. Instead, he fused elements of both -– a low profile, wide and sweeping roof lines, tall windows, with historical cues such as ornamentation and gardens.

One of Stone’s trademarks was the use of a wide variety of other allied arts– including painters, sculptors, and landscape architects. The landscape architect for this project was Raleigh Hall of Fame-r Richard Bell, working in conjunction Ed Stone Jr, the son of the Design Architect.

Incorporating beautiful greenery and other elements of landscaping proved to be an interesting challenge. From a lack of adequate drainage for the indoor plants, to state government bureaucracy, and some legislators vocally criticizing the project, it was quite a learning experience for a man that only had his own practice for a few years.

Some state legislators tried to persuade Bell to put tobacco plants on the rooftop gardens. Many of them were from tobacco-producing counties and after all, “North Carolina is a tobacco state!”. He politely rebuffed the suggestions and instead left behind beautiful patches of green that adorn the surroundings as well as the roof.

The patterns on the marbled columns, façade, and coffered ceilings are quite remarkable and unique for this area. According to Stone’s youngest son, Hicks, “this kind of ornamentation is distinctly Wrightian in origin”. You can see it in other examples of Wright’s work, such as the Ennis House in Los Angeles. The elder Stone and Wright were good friends until the latter’s death in 1959.

The Legislative Building’s ties to established local and international personalities doesn’t end with Stone, Kamphoefner, Wright, Bell, and Reeves, however. In 1963, Buckminster “Bucky” Fuller penned a poem entitled ‘Dymaxion Rating’ which sang the praises of Stone and the building he designed here in Raleigh.

In it, the final verse reads:

Dignity
For common man
In Raleigh’s white-green grace
Edward Durell Stone
In world architects’ first place

Today, the interior of the building appears almost the same as it did when it opened in 1963. There is plentiful use of red carpet, the water gardens are still in use, and the giant doors throughout retain the original unique knobs. Heck, even the furniture still has the look and feel of mid-century modernism.

Several of the images used in this article date back to 2004-2005, a time in which I was discovering the area of my newly adopted city. In terms of architecture, the Legislative Building has always remained close to my heart.

The infinite perspective given by the columns together with the square-spirals can give one a sense of a different place, right here in town.

It is unique, commanding, regal, and extraordinary in terms of architectural details. The Legislative Building is a treasure to all residents of North Carolina. With any luck, it will be regarded by future generations of Raleigh residents with the same level of affection shown to its older sister, the historic Capitol Building a block away.

Most asked questions by school children when visiting the Legislative Building: “Why is the red carpet blocked off?” and “Can the governor walk on it?”

Answer: Thousands of people walk on the carpet on a continuous basis. The maintenance and upkeep are too much for the illustrious carpet. And no, not even the governor can walk on the carpet.

Special thanks: University of Arkansas Special Collections for permission to republish Buckminster Fuller’s poem, Hicks Stone for Architectural Forum scans and historical information, and to Triangle Modernist Houses for use of Holloway and Reeves image.

* For more information on the (sometimes public) disputes between Kamphoefner and Stone/Reeves, see David Brooke’s thesis on Kamphoefner [PDF], page 112 (124 of the PDF)

The gem on Hillsborough St. in 1962 — at night, the way Joe Cox intended it. (Photo courtesy the NC Office of  Archives and History, State Archives.)

Forty-seven years ago next month, Branch Banking and Trust Company  opened its  “State College Office” at the corner of Hillsborough St. and Oberlin Rd. The ribbon cutting ceremony was held with great fanfare, with the mayor of Raleigh, the chancellor of NC State and the president of BB&T in attendance. Though the pick and shovel groundbreaking had occurred several months earlier, the bank’s opening “broke ground” in another, more significant way — it was the first Raleigh bank to feature a work of public art as an integral part of its design — a dazzling stained glass mural. “The mural represents the growing cooperation between artist and architect that is rapidly spreading throughout the country,” the N&O reported in an article on the event in 1962. The architect of the State College Office was F. Carter Williams; the artist who designed the stained glass mural was none other than the renowned Raleigh artist, color theorist and School of Design professor, Joe Cox.

The NC State University BB&T branch as it appears today.

The “striking, three-dimensional stained glass mural” measured 9 x 14 feet, and comprised an entire wall of the bank’s glass-enclosed entry foyer. Stained glass panels of varying sizes and colors — reds, greens, yellows, orange, blues — formed a pattern in a wall of white cast stone. A grid of fixed anodized aluminum vanes placed in front of the glass panels on the exterior of the wall diffused light passing through the stained glass.

This is a view of the stained glass mural from inside the bank foyer in 1962. (Photo courtesy the NC Office of  Archives and History, State Archives.)

Although Cox designed the mural specifically for nighttime illumination, it played on natural light throughout the day. As the N&O article described the display: “Morning light streaming through the stained glass openings casts a beautiful pattern of variegated color. The rich colors are reflected faintly in the glass doors that lead from the foyer into the bank itself. In the afternoon, the vanes modulate a pattern of light and shadow …”

The State College branch under construction in 1962. The cast stone framework is ready for the installation of the stained glass panels. (Photo courtesy the NC Office of  Archives and History, State Archives.)

Few people today are aware that Cox created this bejeweled Hillsborough St. landmark. Even fewer remember it. As a freshman at NC State, I myself vividly recall the day I was in the bank, standing at a teller’s window, when I overheard behind me a young man compliment the female assistant manager: “Forgive me, but you have the most beautiful green eyes I have ever seen!” She thanked him politely as their transaction concluded. After completing my own transaction I walked past the assistant manager’s desk and made a furtive effort to see for myself what had so smitten the young man. And sure enough, her eyes were a clear, deep emerald green. As I passed through the foyer on my way out, I lingered by the mural with all its sparkling colored glass. I focused on a bright green glass panel and thought—wow!

Another view inside the foyer. (Photo courtesy the NC Office of  Archives and History, State Archives.)

Sadly, the Joe Cox stained glass mural, the gem on Hillsborough St., has been lost. In a building renovation 20 or so years ago, the bank remodeled the foyer, and an ATM machine now fills the space this incredible work of art once occupied. Since that time I have always wondered: Where is the mural today?

With the generous assistance of the current branch manager, I am attempting to track down the mural’s fate. I’ll report back with my findings, whether the news be good or bad.

A recent nighttime view of the 1980s remodeling of the entry foyer. The brick walls were lowered, the ATM was installed and the original space occupied by the glass-enclosed foyer was reduced significantly.

Much like Grosvenor Gardens on Hillsborough Street, the buildings and surrounding landscape of Capitol Broadcasting Company (WRAL/FOX50) are an overlooked but beautiful part of Raleigh.

A few weeks ago I was introduced to the Azalea Gardens that are a part of the property. A friend from back home was getting her bridal portraits made here (among other places), and I strolled about the area for the first time. I had visited the surrounding structures on more than one occasion (mostly admiring the architecture) but had never ventured to this hidden and beautiful flower garden.

The flower gardens are as old as the other parts of CBC Headquarters:

Capitol Broadcasting Company founder A.J. Fletcher created the WRAL Gardens as a service to the community. The WRAL Gardens opened to the public in 1959, three years after WRAL-TV went on the air as the first UHF station in Raleigh. The WRAL Gardens surround WRAL-TV’s studios on Western Boulevard in Raleigh, NC.

The WRAL Gardens showcase a full range of flowering and non-flowering plant materials that are typical in a Southern garden. Featured plants include azaleas, dogwoods, rhododendrons, deciduous azaleas and the beginnings of a new collection of hydrangeas.

– History the WRAL Azalea Gardens

The park on the grounds of WRAL’s corporate headquarters and broadcasting studio is by no means expansive, but there is quite a bit of greenery within the small space.

The sculpture in the image above is entitled “Eagle Against the Sun”, and is the work of Chris Navarro.

CBC Headquarters in 1959*

To those familiar with local architecture, the buildings are unmistakably the work of Milton Small, who happens to be my favorite of area architects. The main building closely resembles his former office on the corner of Brooks Avenue and Hillsborough Street. Designed in partnership with Joseph Boaz, the new offices were completed in 1959.

In addition to the Azalea Garden, the buildings, water features, and landscape are intriguing as well. The tract of land that the office space sits on consists of several gentle slopes, which is something rather unique for the otherwise mostly flat area of Raleigh.

Located near the intersection of Avent Ferry and Western Boulevard, the area is incredibly quiet and can provide a nice retreat from noisy city life–something that is very uncommon for a Corporate Headquarters complex. It’s well worth the trip if you live nearby.

(the color visible on the water jets on the first image was added by me during the exposure. I’ve been told that the previous water feature did include color, but the current one does not)

*Image courtesy of Lewis P. Watson

The demolition of the Garland Jones Office Building could likely be the most discussed urban planning event in the history of Raleigh. Just about every local blog has weighed in since the decision was made by Wake County to replace the office building with a new justice center. The discussion remained mostly online, in print, and in personal circles. Opposition and protest against demolition was largely absent from within the halls of county government. In the end, however, it probably wouldn’t have mattered. The decision likely would have been made regardless of any public outcry, large or small.

Well over a year over since the initial decision was made, and after several months of careful preparation and planning, the building began to slowly come crumbling down late Wednesday evening. The dust and debris created dense clouds over the area, and the sound of the heavy equipment reverberated off of the surrounding structures. The sights and sounds were quite dramatic. Raleigh was losing a landmark.

As an admirer of the Modernist style of architecture embodied in the Garland Jones Office Building, I was quite sad to see it come down. Despite the fact that Raleigh has one of the largest collections of buildings in this style, this was the last remaining example of “high modernism,” representing its most refined and embellished form.

By and large, the most thoughtful and intelligent essay on this particular building was expressed by Clearscapes architect Jon Zellweger at New Raleigh. His piece “Everything Comes At A Price – A Living Eulogy For The Garland Jones Office Building” was quoted and debated by several local media sources, including WUNC’s The State of Things, where he made a guest appearance to discuss the fate of the GJOB.

A few of the contributors to this blog reached out to friends within city government, in hopes they could put us in touch with county officials. The idea was that those in county government could ultimately connect us with the Superintendent of the project at Barnhill Contracting Company, so that we could get a tour of the building before it came down.

Luck was on our side, as the chain of communication happened far more quickly than we had expected. Within a week or two after making initial contacts to Greg Hallam and Dan Becker from the City of Raleigh, we were in touch with Ken Cass (above), the Superintendent of the project. We were lucky to have such a person give us the tour. He told us upon our first meeting that “I went to the top for you guys,” meaning he had cleared our visit with executives at the contracting company.

After filling out the necessary paperwork and donning safety gear, we were on our way to taking a look at the former office building’s last days.

This was the first (officially sanctioned) time I had been on a construction or demolition site, and it was certainly an exciting and interesting experience. Buildings are like the multitude of electronic devices we use every day: we don’t care how they work or why, we just care that they do. When you see a building being stripped down to the bare elements that hold it together, you get a good appreciation for what it is that makes it work.

Most of the remaining electronic and mechanical systems inside the GJOB dated back to 1960, its year of construction, when it was originally known as First Federal Savings and Loan.

Pictured above is the electric switching mechanism used by the elevator system. I won’t pretend to know how it works, but it was quite fascinating to watch. As the elevator descended or ascended to its destination, each of the mechanical switches would click off and on, making sounds as well as moving as it made contact. Contemporary elevator systems certainly do not have the tactile or auditory feedback as this system does. It was a living relic, reminiscent of when transistors ruled the day, long before the ubiquity of silicon computer chips.

The “time + temp” sign itself is a landmark. Other than perhaps the distinctively-patterned curtain walls, comprisied of panels in differing shades of blue, translucent glass, the clock was the most recognizable part of the Garland Jones Office Building. At the time of demolition, it still clung to the side of the structure, like a captain going down with his ship.

The beautiful white marble slabs that covered the corner and end walls of the structure were salvaged, although I can’t say what their final destination was. For the past several weeks, the building has consisted of internal i-beams and support structure, the curtain walls, and not much else.

Although construction of the new Justice Center that will serve as an extension to the Wake County Courthouse has been delayed by about a year, there’s no question that the project will get underway. Barnhill is in this for the long haul. This is a $200+ million dollar project not slated to be ready for another 5 or 6 years.

The once proud lobby of this former bank, with its matching sculpted ceiling and patterned terazzo floor, is no longer there — soon an empty surface lot will be all that remains of this fine example of mid-20th century architecture.

Despite my sadness over the loss of this architectural gem, I fully understand that a city, county, or state government will move forward with new construction to accommodate a growing population base. We can sit back and debate the merits of how, why, and when — but with every bit of new construction there will be those who lament the loss of the previous structure as well as those who welcome a new one.

It’s been the nature of human progress since the beginning of recorded history. When a building is obsolesced and metropolitan population grows, we build something bigger and more modern in its place. After all, Raleigh residents lamented the loss of the 19th century Academy of Music Building, the former occupant of the site on which First Federal erected their new flagship bank building in 1960.

All we can really do is to record the past with words and pictures, and grab architectural artifacts to keep as relics of an era past. Not all the iconic multi-colored glass panels are heading for the scrap heap, however. Around 20 to 30 panels still exist somewhere – in the living rooms and closets of several Raleigh residents. Pieces of this structure will live on, and serve some sort of purpose, however far removed from the original intent.

Nestled between a stretch of convenience stores and empty lots on South Street lies an architectural gem built a half century ago that served as one of the first in the area to offer drive-through banking. Originally home of First National Bank, the structure now serves as a house of worship for The Prayer of Deliverance COGIC (Church of God in Christ).

Much of the fenestration and landscaping elements have long since been removed or altered, but the building still stands proudly today in a long neglected corridor just slightly removed from the downtown revival taking place to the East. As the now absent sign in the first photograph shows, it was a “Drive-In” bank – a concept that was just beginning to emerge in the mid 1950s and early 1960s.

Although forward-thinking and planned at the height of the post-WWII era dominated by the automobile, attention and thought were given to the pedestrian and to the outdoor area around the structure. The plan above shows an equal balance of natural plant life and asphalt. Even though much of the original landscaping is now gone, the zig-zag masonry wall defining the parking area at the rear of the building still encloses a planting of small trees and shrubbery.

An advertisement for a banking supply company in the early 1950s stated:

“Auto Banking is here to stay by popular acclaim! Its convenience attracts new business. It saves despositors’ time as well as your own. It saves lobby and workspace. It shortens window lines.”*

While this claim may have been a bit dramatized, it did highlight the significant shift in the way Americans came to perceive the act of interacting with their local bank. This First National Bank was one of Raleigh’s pioneers in the move away from traditional classicist construction that focused on the walk-up counter as the sole method of banking.

The First National Bank building was designed by Carter Williams a few years before he began planning the BB&T branch that was erected in 1962 on the corner of Oberlin Road and Hillsborough Street. It was at this time of suburban growth that regulations were changed which had previously restricted or limited the number of branches a bank could operate.

While the current use of this structure is far removed from the original intent, it still remains intact and serves the community; a testament to one of the area’s most distinguished and talented architects.

(Historic images courtesy of Lewis P. Watson Collection)

* “How to Get Auto Banking Business,” advertisement for Herring-Hall-Marvin Safe Co., 1950

Contrary to semi-popular belief, Harrelson Hall was not designed by an NCSU architecture student who used the cylindrical-based building idea for his senior design project (and received in “F” for it). It was designed by Edward Waugh, a prominent Raleigh Modernist architect who was brought to the area via Henry Kamphoefner, the first dean of the College of Design.

For additional photos and commentary, see the previous post: Harrelson Hall and its Ultimate Demise.