Wrecking ball tolls for City Hall
By Alex Beam, Globe Columnist | December 18, 2006
Preservationists are already crawling out of the woodwork to oppose mayor Tom Menino's One Great Idea -- moving City Hall to the waterfront and selling off the existing monstrosity to a developer. Predictably, the architectural priesthood is shedding crocodile tears over the possible loss of Gerhard Kallmann and Noel McKinnell's "important," but ugly, molded concrete, Brutalist doorstop. But there is only one possible fate for the Incredible Hulk: Tear it down.
Boston City Hall shows up in every architecture lecture in the world. Generations of snoozy undergraduates have seen the slide of Le Corbusier's odd, ramparted monastery of Sainte-Marie de la Tourette in Eveux, France, followed immediately by a picture of our City Hall. As if it were somehow relevant that a difficult to appreciate building by a great architect begat an ugly building by two other great architects. I have nothing against Kallmann and McKinnell, by the way. I practically live in one of their wonderful creations: the Newton Free Library.
City Hall may be interesting intellectually, but it's been hell to live with. Buildings have two faces. City Hall's exterior, which the world sees, is unprepossessing, to be charitable. The unseen interior is even worse. In an interview with Architecture Boston magazine, former mayoral aide Carter Wilkie described his workplace: "All of the dark, gloomy bleak concrete, wall after wall of it, is oppressive as you walk through. In those spaces where there aren't windows to the outside, it's very bleak. Even the spaces that should be monumental in a public building are a real disappointment."
Let's face it, Boston is a city where A-list architects have dumped a lot of B-list buildings. Philip Johnson , after doing a nice job building the modern extension of the Boston Public Library, threw up the nondescript International Place towers. Frank Gehry offloaded the silly, self-parodying Stata Center right in the middle of M.I.T. Charles Luckman had taste; he commissioned Park Avenue's Lever House, Manhattan's first, signature, International Style skyscraper. Then he gave us the Prudential Center.
Right next door, the CBT partnership, which is capable of great work, gave us the nothingburger R2D2 building, also known as 111 Huntington Ave . Now they are walling in Boylston Street east of the Hynes Convention Center, just so Robin Brown's rich friends can overpay for condos in the new Mandarin Oriental. There oughta be a law.
The great Henry Cobb gave us the John Hancock tower, but also the eyesore Harbor Towers, said to be the city's most desirable residence because the occupants can't see . . . Harbor Towers. As a young shaver, Cobb worked on the master plan for Government Center, the hideous brick and concrete setting for the Medusa head that is City Hall. "That space has a lot of problems," Cobb told me in an interview eight years ago. "We imagined there would be a green space there that would be linked by Tremont Street to the Common. Now, as a brick plaza, you look at it and say, 'Where are the people?' "
Well here is a chance to correct Cobb's, Kallmann's, and McKinnell's mistakes. For four decades, City Hall has squatted on the best nine acres in town, and everything has tanked there, from Yo-Yo Ma's Music Garden to the Enchanted Village. OK, it's a good enough venue for showering praise on World Series and Super Bowl champions, but they have been in short supply of late.
Important buildings get torn down all the time. Charles Bulfinch's Tontine Crescent and New South Church; Boston's original Masonic Temple and Aquarium; our imperious Union Station; the eye-grabbing Museum of Fine Arts on Copley Square, "Ruskinian gothic of an extravagance rarely seen," according to architectural historian Jane Holtz Kay. All gone. And we are enriched rather than diminished by their disappearance.
When it's time, it's time. Boston City Hall, the bell tolls for thee. And as long as there are bulldozers in the area, Harbor Towers is just a short drive away . . .
Alex Beam is a Globe columnist. His e-dress is
beam@globe.com.