The High Hopes of Frank Lloyd Wright

by Oliver E. Allen

For most of us, the great architect Frank Lloyd Wright is remembered especially for his horizontal structures, like Fallingwater with its concrete slabs jutting over a waterfall, or his celebrated prairie houses with their strong horizontal rooflines. But Wright was also obsessed with the vertical, as is shown by a fascinating new show on view through Jan. 9 at The Skyscraper Museum, 39 Battery Place, in Battery Park City.

Towers designed to surround St. Mark's in the Bowery.

Some of Wright's designs for high-rises were both highly dramatic and innovative, as the exhibit demonstrates. The only problem was that few of them came to fruition. Among the unbuilt plans was a radical design that would have permanently altered a section of the Lower Manhattan skyline.

As early as 1912 Wright designed a 25-story tower for the San Francisco Call, a local newspaper. The Call Building would have been the highest building in the city, but lack of funds cancelled the project. Then in 1929 the rector of St. Mark's in the Bowery, in the East Village, invited Wright to draw up plans for apartment buildings that would surround the church and provide it with much-needed revenue for the church.

The architect responded with a proposal for a series of towers separated from each other in an expanse of greenery and based on a radical structural concept: each building's floors, made of reinforced concrete, would be cantilevered from a central core, permitting the exterior walls to be glass.

The architectural profession took notice: nothing like this had ever been advanced. But in the end St. Mark's rector got cold feet.

"The glass extending from ceiling to floor? I am assailed at once with vertigo," he said. End of project. Luckily for Wright, he got to build a comparable high rise 25 years later, the 19-story Price Tower in Bartlesville, Okla., constructed in 1955, which similarly uses the cantilever principle. So New York's loss, finally, was Oklahoma's gain.

But the losses and abandoned projects, especially in the 1930s, were almost too much for Wright to bear. His plan for a 112-story tower for the 1933 Chicago World's Fair was not built, nor were other similar schemes. Only in the 1940s, at the same time he was building Fallingwater in Pennsylvania, was he able to build another tall structure-the research tower for the Johnson's Wax company in Racine, Wis. It was the only one.

Wright did not stop dreaming. In 1956, when he was in his late 80s, he drew up plans for what The Skyscraper Museum calls "Wright's final exuberant tribute to verticality." He called it his "Mile High Tower," and it was just that, a startling monolith that was to soar 528 stories into the sky, with atomic-powered elevators and, he said, landing space for 100 helicopters-though just how this would be accomplished he did not say. Clearly the old man's mind was still crackling along at full speed.

Too bad he wasn't around for the competition for rebuilding the World Trade Center. He might have astonished everyone.
The unbuilt "Century of Progress" for the 1933 Chicago World's Fair.