When is a Spire Not a Spire?

The design and construction of the new World Trade Center complex in New York City has interested me since the early presentations of conceptual proposals, not just because of the horrific events which made a new complex necessary, but because so seldom do we get to see projects of such grand and expensive proportions undertaken in crowded major cities. After the initial, bland ideas were rejected, the winning proposal of the subsequent international competition, created by the architect who would become responsible for the eventual Master Plan of the complex, Daniel Libeskind, featured a rising, spiraling cascade of towers peaking at the highest point with a spire reaching to the symbolic measurement of 1776'.

Original Libeskind Proposal

While the eventual designs went through many revisions, and individual architects were chosen to design the towers themselves, with Libeskind still dictating the basic design outline, the main hard point that was never dislodged was that crowning height that alluded to the American Revolution.

Fast-forward many years, many billions, many political fights, many NYPD mandated changes, and many construction delays later and two of the four proposed towers are nearing completion.  4 World Trade Center, the shortest in height (though still very tall by the standards of most cities) opens this November and 1 WTC, formerly the jingoistic "Freedom Tower," has topped out, with most of the remaining unfinished work in the interior spaces.

Of all the towers of the new site, 1WTC is the one saddled with the most responsibility to honor the past while pointing to the future - an unenviable task for any building. Penned by David Childs of SOM, the clean and simple glassy design has been derided as bland, non world-class and "something that would look right at home in Dallas," by numerous architectural snobs, but such a broad dismissal of it overlooks some of its more ingenious details. The basic shape of the building is square, as were the original Twin Towers, and comes within a few feet of matching their perimeter dimensions. Height to the top manages to honor both the original 1 and 2 WTC by matching the measurement of the first to the roof and the second to the glass parapet that extends up a bit to mask rooftop mechanical equipment.

When viewed directly from north, south, east or west, the tower appears a towering straight rectangle, presenting an eerie ghost image of one of the fallen twins. From an angle, however, you discover an entirely different shape, as the chamfered, or shaved-off corners of the rectangle angle back to give the shape a tapering elegance that seems to increase its height. Childs has stated that the inspiration for this angling came from the similarly shaved corners of the original towers, whose aluminum alloy-clad brightness grabbed sunlight and presented an almost illuminated vertical line on the edges, which was particularly noticeable in early morning and late afternoon.

Dramatic Illumination - photo by kruytflo

Taken to a much more dramatic level on the new 1WTC, the gigantic triangular shapes covered in highly reflective glass produce a visually arresting, almost blinding beam of illumination under similar lighting conditions which stand out as the largest and brightest eye grabber in all the wonders of Manhattan. Dramatic, powerful and inspiring.

So Childs managed to both salute the Twins and provide optimism for the future in his design, but there was that non-negotiable matter of the 1776' height that still had to be satisfied. His solution was a 408' spire extending from the roof, which which would replace the broadcast mast destroyed on 9/11/01, but also create a visual pinnacle that would pull the eye far higher than the originals ever could.

Being a smart, experienced architect with a well-developed aesthetic sense, Childs wasn't going to leave the mast bare, so he envisioned a fiberglass radome covering for the antenna, created in collaboration with sculptor Kenneth Snelson, which would not only provide some protection from wind loads and the elements for the broadcasting equipment, but be a striking visual symbol of grace rising above the city.

The complex, topped by a giant joint

Formed of interlocking white triangles which mimick the tower's main corners, the piece had a curved taper from base to tip which almost suggested a rocket ship, or frankly, a gigantic marijuana joint.  Whether or not one was 100% in love with the final design, it did provide the needed visual heft to make such a tall appendage look in proportion to the rest of the building. The look was cohesive, if hard to judge completely by renderings alone, and its artistic intent was clear.

During the course of the aforementioned construction delays and cost overruns, the Port Authority, owners of the original complex and builders of the new, brought in the Durst development organization as a way to inject some cash into the project. With rights to manage and lease the building, the firm was also given a financial incentive to save costs in the over-budget project wherever they could find them. Unfortunately for the city and the country, what drifted into the crosshairs of their bean counting was none other than Mighty Joint - the spire.

Original spire design and internal structure

The fabrication and installation cost of the radome covering was projected to be $20 million. This seems like a lot until you realize the entire building was already looking at a tab of over $3 billion. Nevertheless, Durst took an axe to the covering and stripped the spire to its skeletal erector set innards, which were designed to be highly functional, but were never supposed to see the light of day. The supposed reason for the removal was not money, but that the panels "would be too hard to maintain," a point disputed by the architects - you know the ones who have designed the VAST MAJORITY of supertall buildings for decades. As a weak sauce replacement for the lost aesthetic element, the firm proudly pronounced that bare, galvanized metal monstrosity would be brightly lit with color-changing LEDs at night, because, hey, EVERYTHING looks better when lit with LEDs!

Now, in theory, you could spotlight a curly turd in the bowl with rainbow colors and it would look less offensive, but what happens during the bright light of day, when spotlights won't show? Looks like a turd.

In a somewhat insulting and incongruous gesture, they left in place the crowning tip of the original spire design, a faceted stainless steel point which houses the FAA warning lights and also a powerful, twin-beam rotating white beacon, designed to cast horizontal swaths over the city and beyond as a powerful symbol of hope and protection. While the highly reflective pointy tip would have looked very much a part of the overall original design, left in place atop the bare bones beneath it as it is now, it looks comically like the Wonakavator, from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. I love that movie, but come on, THIS is the best symbol the country can produce?

Wonkavator

The spindly monstrosity looks ridiculous in its current state, too thin for its height and accessorized with periodic bare work platforms, complete with safety railings, whose outer edges still hold true to the angular radome shape the public will never get to see. When viewed in conjunction with the circular dish platforms below, always a part of the design, the whole construction looks like a dull gray ray gun out of Flash Gordon. It also reduces the perceived height, as its dark finish and skinny profile can get easily lost against the sky. Not exactly the strong statement that many had been expecting.

Some people have defended this colossal mess, arguing that Mighty Joint was too fat in the first place and the raw nature of what is there now, with all its visible welds, bolts and now-useless mounting flanges, is wonderfully industrial and so in keeping with the gritty nature of New York. While I admire their skill at creating a silk sow's ear purse, this position is preposterous. I like the industrial look as much as anyone, and it can often add great texture and character, but plopping that approach on top of a 1300' obelisk of smooth glass and carefully sculpted stainless steel edging and saying it effectively completes the look makes you a candidate for the rubber room.

Seriously?!

The one bright spot in this is mess is that the whole charade may blow up in Durst's face, as there is a real possibility that the Council on Tall Buildings and Urban Habitats, a respected organization who is considered the final say on official skyscraper height, and which has very strict rules about what is the measurable tip of a building, may take an axe to the trumpeted total height.. It turns out that a spire, structural and architecturally integral and essential to the design of a building is counted. An antenna mast is not. SOM knew this, and so took extra pains to make sure that what got stuck on the top was essential to the look of the building, and would hit the mandated height target. The feeling is that Durst will argue that the Wonkavator at the tip is a designed piece and so they are still hitting the height. Childs disagrees, and in a rare instance of architect publicly criticizing his client, released a statement bemoaning the loss of the artistic radome and pledging assistance in designing an alternative. His offer was not taken. It would cost money.

So maybe the much-touted 1776' building is not really 1776'. Maybe the spire is not a spire. We'll know by the end of the year.