Following the 1900 Galveston hurricane, which became the deadliest natural disaster in U.S. history, G.L. Norrman opined that the Texas port city should build a seawall, his comments appearing in Wallace Putnam Reed‘s column for The Macon Telegraph on September 20, 1900.
If it sounds like Norrman was familiar with Galveston, there’s a reason: he likely emigrated to the United States through the Port of Galveston in 1874,1 and it’s possible that he worked in the city or elsewhere in Texas as a draftsman before starting his practice in South Carolina.2
“Galveston should have a sea wall. Holland is below the ocean, and yet it is efficiently protected by dykes. Galveston is six feet above the sea, and a wall is feasible.
“Then the buildings should be of a substantial, storm-proof character. People should prepare proper safeguards and not charge every disaster to Providence.”3
References
“An Educated Architect”. The Atlanta Journal, December 17, 1892, p. 9. ↩︎
All hail the humble coneflower, one of the unsung heroes of the urban landscape.
When I first began growing native plants, I was attracted to the rare, hyperlocal ones with appealing origin stories: plants that are only found on a creek bank 10 miles away or some such silliness.
The problem with those specimens is that they are inevitably ill-suited for the harsh realities of city life: compacted soils, pissing dogs, pissing humans, careless drivers, overzealous mowers, etc.
Coneflower in Philadelphia
Over time, I’ve come to appreciate the native plants that consistently prove their resilience, endurance, and dependability — the ones I can plant in any location under any conditions with the assurance that they will thrive.
One of those is the coneflower, which grows practically anywhere in the eastern half of North America. Butterflies and bees love it, humans find the blooms attractive, and I can easily grow it in a container outside my apartment door.
Frank Lloyd Wright.Annie Pfeiffer Chapel (1941) at Florida Southern College. Lakeland, Florida.12Sanctuary in Annie Pfeiffer ChapelSkylight in Annie Pfeiffer Chapel
A recurring theme of G.L. Norrman‘s career was his vocal opposition to alcohol prohibition, at a time when the temperance movement was in full force in the United States, and many cities and states sought to ban its sale and production.
Atlanta enacted prohibition in July 1886,1 reportedly prompting Norrman to return to practice for a brief time in Greenville, South Carolina,2 which had not yet passed a similar law, although nearby Spartanburg had in 1884 — by just four votes.34
Prohibition was incredibly unpopular in Atlanta, and the city’s business leaders loudly complained that it made them lose money. In November 1887, as Atlantans prepared to vote for a repeal of the law, The Atlanta Constitution asked the city’s architects if they had designed any commercial buildings since prohibition began. None had. Norrman reported:
“In response to your inquiry, I can say that I have no store building on hand to be erected in Atlanta, nor have I had for two years. I had some drawings made for five stores, two years ago, but they were not built, as the owner did not think it would pay to build them after prohibition started here.”5
Three days after Norrman’s remarks, a reported 15,000 Atlantans took to the streets in protest of prohibition,6 and the next day, voters overwhelmingly approved ending the ban.7
The threat of prohibition loomed again in 1899, when the Georgia House of Representatives approved a measure proposing a statewide ban,8 prompting Norman to write the following letter to The Atlanta Journal, published on December 2, 1899.
The attempt at statewide prohibition in Georgia failed a few days later,910 but ultimately succeeded in 1907, 13 years before prohibition was enacted nationwide.
Norrman’s remarks:
“In answer to some requests for my opinion about the prohibition bill, I will say that I think it is too much ado about nothing.
“It is morally wrong to confiscate property, or to debar people from using the comforts and luxuries of life in moderation on account of a few drunkards.
“If school boys, church members, prohibitionists, club men and legislators, or anybody else if they should get drunk, were taken to the station house and well whipped, there would rarely, or ever, be and drunkenness.
“‘The punishment should always fit the crime.’ So disgraceful behavior deserves disgraceful punishment.
“Prohibition practically confiscates a great deal of capital which is now used in a legal and proper manner, while whipping drunkards instead of petting them would only queer the business of the professional revivalist. The only business that would be seriously affected by such a law is that of the temperance lecturer. He would necessarily have to go out of business less than six months after such a law went into effect, for the lack of stock in trade. After that time, if there should be any drunkards left, they would keep so quiet that he could hardly pick out enough to arouse any emotion, even in the most sentimental of sentimentalists.”
Eastern pondhawk (Erythemis simplicicollis) on a water lily (Nymphaeaceae)
On early summer mornings at the local botanical garden, you can find all sorts of fine flowers and flying friends. Here’s a lovely pair I spotted last Saturday.
G.L. Norrman. Sixteenth Street School (1893). Columbus, Georgia. Illustration drawn by W.L. Stoddart.1
The Background
In June 1899, The Atlanta Constitution launched “The Constitution‘s Home Study Circle”, consisting of long-form printed lectures on a variety of subjects, with the promise of “instruction and general culture for those who make the most of its benefits”.
Upon announcement of the program, G.L. Norrman wrote the Constitution to express his tentative approval, as seen in this letter, “From Mr. G.L. Norrman.,” published on June 8, 1899.
Norrman’s remarks:
‘The “Home Study Circle” is on the right line. I am not familiar with the details of your plan, but a glance at your course of free lessons for your readers convinces me that they will be of great value to those who will give them proper attention. Education and culture cannot be purchased in job lots, nor picked up in the road, but some systems and methods are easier and more attractive than others, and I think that your scheme of popular instruction is a good one, and will be appreciate by hosts of old and new readers.’
This fine specimen of Eastern white pine is a little south of its native range, but the species is a popular choice in urban landscapes throughout the United States for its fast growth, resilience in tough conditions, and year-round greenery. Hey, it’s better than another crape myrtle.
I was introduced to the work of Marcel Breuer with the Atlanta Central Library (1980), which was designed as a conscious rehash of Breuer’s Whitney Museum in New York and is perhaps the most emblematic example of Atlanta’s consistent impulse to copy the architecture of better cities (badly).
Marcel Breuer and Hamilton Smith with Stevens & Wilkinson. Atlanta Central Library (1980). Atlanta.
Breuer’s firm was hired to design the building in 1970,1but in typical Atlanta fashion, no one wanted to pay for the new facility, even though the city’s 1902 Carnegie Library (pictured below) was in disrepair, overcrowded, and “hopelessly outmoded”.2
In lieu of actual decision-making, local leaders spent years quibbling over where the library should be built,345678while simultaneously denying funds for its construction. In his 1973 mayoral election campaign, Maynard Jackson even promised that only private donations, not tax dollars, would be used for the project,910 which had an original estimated cost of $13 million but, with runaway inflation, had jumped to nearly $20 million by 1974.11
Meanwhile, the old library remained in abysmal condition, and an unusually pointed news commentary from that year said of it: “The dingy granite building on Carnegie Way, with its creaking floors and bulging stacks, stands as a pathetic reminder of the place of culture in this modern commercial capital.”12
The library’s director, Carlton Rochell, was equally dismissive of the aging Beaux-Arts building, stating that “…even at its best, it was just one of about 4,500 things cut out with Carnegie’s cook-cutter.”13 He wasn’t wrong.
Ackerman & Ross with J.H. Dinwiddie and Bleckley & Tyler.141516Carnegie Library (1902, demolished 1977). Atlanta. Illustration from an undated postcard published by the Albertype Co.
Rochell was the driving force behind the new library’s development, and his explanation for why he chose Breuer as the designer was the embodiment of Atlanta smugness:
“We narrowed it down to three or four architects with enviable reputations. We settled on Marcel Breuer because we regard him as being at the pinnacle of his profession. Besides, I felt that Atlanta should have the distinction of a Breuer-designed building. There’s one other thing. Marcel Breuer is notable for living with a budget.”17
The final 2 contenders were Breuer and Paul Rudolph, but it appears Rochell intended to hire Breuer all along, as he was said to be “highly enamored of the Whitney Museum”.18 When Breuer’s conceptual design19 for the new library was approved in March 1971,20The Atlanta Journal claimed it “borrows somewhat from the Whitney Museum of Art…”,21 which was quite the understatement.
By the early 1970s, it appears Breuer all but gave up actual design work, primarily handing those duties over to his associates while he secured commissions and cashed in on his reputation.
With his firm increasingly cranking out retreads of past glories, Breuer showed no qualms about the derivative design of the Central Library, and of its severe Brutalist style; he said it conveyed “an expression which you may call monumental”.23
That made more sense than the firm’s official design statement for the project. If you can decipher this first-class wankery, mazel tov:
“Admist this heterogeneous downtown texture, the library building must, somehow, be given an architectural significant appropriate to one of the chief cultural resources of a major city. The achievement of this distinctness and clarity is considered a key design challenge by the architects.
The design response aimed at this goal is based on concepts which seek to take maximum advantage of the important circumstances that the library site is a complete block; and that the building that occupies it may thus be separated by an envelope of space from adjacent structures.”24
Window on the east facade of the Atlanta Central Library
Despite constant lobbying by Rochell, heavy support from the city’s newspapers, and a special commission’s recommendation to issue a bond to fund the library’s construction,25 the city council and Maynard Jackson — elected mayor in 1974 — continued to dither on the matter.
In April 1975, the Friends of the Library released a damning statement that cut through the heart of Atlanta’s ludicrous self-aggrandizement: “It is unthinkable that such a valuable asset as the public library sits like a forgotten dowager on the corner of Carnegie Way while Atlanta touts itself as the world’s next great city.”26
Bowing to mounting pressure, the city council finally scheduled a bond referendum for December 1975,27 although its prospects for passage appeared bleak: a citywide survey released in October 1975 showed that 56% of Atlantans opposed a bond issue to finance a new library.28 That same survey, however, found that 60% of citizens “thought Atlanta’s image is ‘very important’”,29 proving that Atlantans are as ignorant as they are narcissistic.
Atlantans are also too apathetic to vote, so it was a shock when 28.6% of voters — much higher than anticipated — showed up to the polls and passed the $20 million bond for the library’s construction.
The vote was largely along racial lines: Black voters overwhelmingly voted for the library, while White voters soundly rejected it.30 That part isn’t surprising — most Southern Whites wouldn’t be caught dead in a public library.
Central stairwell of the Atlanta Central Library
Construction and Design
The library’s initial plans only consisted of a model and simple schematic drawings,31 and the final plans weren’t completed until early 1977.3233 In 1976, Breuer retired from design work completely due to poor health,3435 so credit for the Central Library’s design should go almost entirely to Breuer’s associate architect, Hamilton Smith.
The budget for the library’s construction was set at $18.9 million during the bond referendum, and to stay within those constraints while material and labor costs increased, Smith reduced the building’s footprint to 185,000 square feet. The library’s board of trustees pushed back on that, however, demanding the project remain at the larger size,36 which apparently resulted in steep cuts to the interior design.
Groundbreaking for the library took place in September 1977,37 but the project faced numerous setbacks before construction began and during construction. Among the low points:
City of Atlanta workers threatened a strike in early 1976, delaying the issuance of municipal bonds for the library’s construction and the negotiation of construction contracts.38
In May 1976, Rochell abruptly resigned as library director for a position in New York,3940 unceremoniously tossing responsibility for the project’s development to Ella Yates, who took over the position as the library’s first Black director.4142
In early 1977, a group called Save the Carnegie protested the old library’s demolition,434445 although the building was ultimately destroyed in September and October 1977.4647
The Breuer firm’s choice of Stevens & Wilkinson as the project’s local architects angered Maynard Jackson and city officials after a Stevens & Wilkinson employee publicly claimed that the firm was “blackmailed” by the city into working with a minority-owned firm on the construction of Hartsfield International Airport.48 The comment resulted in a federal grand jury investigation, but a resolution by the library’s board of trustees to break the contract with Stevens & Wilkinson ultimately failed.49
In September 1977, a tedious battle of egos erupted between city and library officials over who should manage the construction of the new building. The details are too boring to repeat, but the parks commissioner decided that he should manage the project instead of the library’s board of trustees. Why? Who the hell knows. The city council backed the library board, and Maynard Jackson backed the commissioner. Finally, Jackson compromised by giving the board ultimate authority while allowing the parks commissioner to make recommendations to the mayor on library board decisions.505152535455 Politics is insufferable.
Construction on the library was briefly halted in June 1979 when a concrete slab fell from the building and killed a worker,56 the only known fatality associated with the project.
North elevation of the Atlanta Central Library
Built on the corner of Forsyth Street and Carnegie Way in Downtown Atlanta, the completed Central Library encompassed 250,000 square feet57 across 10 levels, with eight floors above ground, and repeated the Whitney Museum’s triple-cantilevered design.
To accommodate Atlanta’s meager funding, the library’s exterior was covered in vertical board-formed concrete,58 a much cheaper material than the granite tiles used on the Whitney.
A defining feature of the building is the 25×25 ft. square window59 on the front facade that spans 2 floors, while a trademark trapezoidal window is tucked into the north side at street level.
Opening in May 1980, the library included such novel features as a gift shop, a cafe, a sunken garden (tres 70s), a rooftop terrace, a drive-through window, and a 340-seat auditorium.6061 The original plan called for 6 above-ground floors, but Smith was able to add two unfinished “bonus” floors while staying within budget.62
That was probably because so little was spent on the interior, which only has a few of Breuer’s flourishes in the stairwells and the first basement level, notably bush-hammered concrete, bluestone tiles, and coffered ceilings.
The remainder of the building’s interior spaces were finished out like a drab 1970s office building, with dropped fiberglass ceilings, fluorescent strip lighting, industrial-grade carpeting, and standard furnishings.
Trapezoidal window on the north elevation of the Atlanta Central Library
The Atlanta hype machine would have you believe the Central Libraryis one of Breuer’s best works, but that’s complete bullshit. It is, at best, a mildly interesting mash-up of elements from some of Breuer’s earlier projects, none of which is executed well.
Partially buried in a slope, the library appears dreary, faceless, and foreboding, and the floating effect seen in the Whitney design is conspicuously absent. The two bonus floors at the top add too much visual weight, and the building is more reminiscent of a sinking tombstone than a grand public monument.
Because Atlanta’s infantile leaders putzed around for a solid decade, by the time the library was completed, the Brutalist style was already rapidly falling out of fashion, an embarrassment for a city that so self-consciously tries to sell itself as a modern metropolis on the leading edge (it’s not).
The building initially enjoyed ample sunlight in its windows and skylights, but that quickly changed with the construction of the nearbyGeorgia-Pacific Center, which has cast a permanent shadow over the library since 1982.
Skylight in the Atlanta Central Library, with Georgia-Pacific Center in the background
Renovation
In 1970, Carlton Rochell stated that the planned facility would be adequate for 20 years,63 and when the Central Library was still under construction, Ella Yates confirmed: “Our new edifice…moves us into the year 2000”.64
But 20 years in Atlanta might as well be 100, and in 2001, the library was described as “worn” and having suffered from “twenty years of decay and obsolescence”. The director at the time observed that it was “built for a different Atlanta, a different world. It was all pre-computer.”65
Circulation at the library had dropped steeply, and since Atlanta never properly maintains its buildings, the facility had predictably fallen into disrepair. The most significant issue was a leaking planter at ground level, which caused a portion of the auditorium’s ceiling to collapse, leading to its closure for five years.66
A paltry $3 million renovation began in 2001 and extended into 2002, consisting of little more than essential repairs, new paint and carpeting, and additional computers.6768
In 2008, the Fulton County Commission held a referendum on a $275 million bond issue, with the stated intention to fund a new 300,000-square-foot library to replace the aging Breuer building. Like every Atlanta development since the 1996 Olympics, the proposed library was obligatorily described as “world-class”,69 although you can be sure it wouldn’t have been.
The bond passed, but — no surprise — Atlanta’s leaders waffled about the library’s fate for nearly a decade. With the threat of destruction pending, local, national, and even international protests by architects and preservationists mounted, and in 2010, the Central Library was placed on theWorld Monuments Watch list.
Finally, in July 2016, the county commissioners opted for a full renovation of the building instead of demolition, although their decision was motivated by money more than any desire for preservation: the new library proposed 8 years earlier was expected to be partially funded by private donations, but those failed to materialize during the Great Recession.70
Looking up at the east facade of the Atlanta Central Library before renovation
The library closed for renovation in July 2018 and reopened in October 2021. Therenovation was designed by Cooper Carry of Atlanta, likely chosen, in part, because of that firm’s recent work on the new campus for North Atlanta High School (2013),71 which required the conversion of a hulking suburban office building completed in 1977.72
There was a key difference between the 2 projects, however: the high school was housed in an unremarkable corporate structure designed by a hometown firm,73 while the library was a landmark civic building credited to an international architect. That the city’s leaders decided local designers were qualified to rework the building tells you everything you need to know about Atlanta.
Thompson, Ventulett, Stainback and Associates, Architects. IBM Marketing and Services Headquarters (1977, later North Atlanta High School). Atlanta. 74
Preservationists were most concerned about Cooper Carry’s decision to add strips of windows to the front of the Central Library to increase sunlight, although that turned out to be one of the better decisions — I would argue that it was an improvement.
On the exterior, the entrance plaza was completely reworked: the sunken garden was filled in, and a large metal sculpture added in 1983 (Wisdom Bridge by Richard Hunt)75 was scrapped. Neither removal was a huge loss.
Atlanta Central Library, after renovation and addition of new windows by Cooper Carry
The renovation went very wrong in the reworked interior, where no attempt was made to blend the new design with the original Breuer elements. The project’s designers were clearly more interested in leaving their own mark than enhancing the building’s existing character, and the result is as awkward as it is arrogant.
The worst decision was that the building’s original service elevators were ripped out and replaced with a swirling skylit atrium that looks extracted from a Class B office building circa 2010, ineptly styled with glass railings, a tacky hanging sculpture, and a dull gray and brown color scheme that already looked dated upon completion.
The renovated interior has a confusing, schizophrenic design that clumsily shoehorns a sleek, sterile 21st-century atrium next to a 70s-era stone-and-concrete stairwell. The new atrium also removed a significant amount of usable floor space on each level, making the interior feel small and cramped — more evocative of a branch location than a flagship library.
Atlanta architecture is third-rate as a rule, but even by the city’s low standards, the Central Library’s renovation is particularly awful, turning an already flawed work into an incoherent mess that appears both amateurish and cheap, despite a reported $50 million price tag.
The building’s fundamental problems remain, and the library is as grim and lifeless as ever, having all the charm of a minimum-security prison — complete with hostile security guards manning the front door.
Original entrance plaza of the Atlanta Central Library (demolished)
At Breuer’s death, Carlton Rochelle claimed “…history will show, that Breuer was one of the three greatest architects of this era”, naming the other two as Eero Saarinen and Mies van der Rohe.76
That was a flawed assessment that hasn’t aged well. While Mies is still considered one of the most influential architects of the 20th century, Saarinen is all but forgotten now, with his gimmicky designs viewed as little more than Space Age novelties.
Breuer is arguably even less known than Saarinen, and when Atlanta inevitably demolishes the Central Library for some hideous new structure in the future, not even the most die-hard Breuer admirers — if there are any left — will consider it much of a loss.
References
Nations, Hugh. “N.Y. Firm Is Hired to Design Library”. The Atlanta Journal, May 21, 1970, p. 2. ↩︎
West, Paul. “Carnegie, Where Are You?” The Atlanta Journal and Constitution, June 16, 1974, p. 11-B. ↩︎
Bryans, Raleigh. “Architects Ask Library Study.” The Atlanta Journal, August 24, 1971, p. 2. ↩︎
“Park and Library Too”. The Atlanta Journal, December 15, 1971, p. 10. ↩︎
Murray, Alice. “No News on New Library”. The Atlanta Constitution, June 25, 1973, p. 6. ↩︎
Merriner, Jim. “Delays Beset Library Plans”. The Atlanta Constitution, March 29, 1976, p. 11-A. ↩︎
Bryans, Raleigh. “The New Library — Where Will It Go?” The Atlanta Journal, December 10, 1975, p. 1. ↩︎
West, Paul. “Carnegie, Where Are You?” The Atlanta Journal and Constitution, June 16, 1974, p. 11-B. ↩︎
