The Government Got Big; The People Got Small (From 2007)

[Editor’s Note: This one still has at least a few people reading it every day, so I’ll go ahead and run it again.]
(Author’s Note: Beats workin’. And there is no editor)

These are the same building. Let me explain.

The first is the old Boston City Hall. It’s still standing, on School Street in Boston. It’s in a pleasant little courtyard, across from the venerable Parker House Hotel. It doesn’t have any civic function any more. It’s filled with restaurants and offices now. It’s a handsome building.

The second picture is what’s called by real locals as the “New City Hall.” It’s almost forty years old, but Boston is a provincial place. They’ll call it that forever. I’m from Boston. Let me assure you all: The New City Hall and environs is the ugliest place in our solar system. They should read Vogon poetry from a balcony there every day, all day.

I’ve been in the New City Hall. I’ve talked to lots of people that have been in it, and plenty more that have worked in it. And it’s been unanimous. It’s the most hateful, anti-human, drafty, cold, forbidding dungeon in the world.

They should demolish it. But that’s not enough. They should exhume the corpses of the architects, and the politicians that hired them, and shoot them into the sun. If they’re not dead, all the better. They constructed the worst place on earth. Expiation of that kind of guilt requires a substantial gesture. Not the sun though, now that I think of it. It’s too warm there. The sun never shines in that building. Pluto.

Let’s say you’d never seen that building before. The monstrosity, not the pleasant one. I could tell you it was a prison, and you’d not only believe me, you’d write your congressman to complain about how poorly treated prison inmates must be to be housed in such a place. If I told you secret police in East Germany tortured people in there, what visual clue could you glean from the photo that would give away the misattribution? No one would enter an upside-down abattoir looking place like that unless they were handcuffed and screaming, would they? If it said Arbeit Macht Frei over the door, would it surprise you?

The first one is a Second Empire dustcatcher. In America, they called Second Empire style General Grant style. It’s visually very dense and interesting to look at. It’s elegant inside too. And the sober, serious nature of the place still reflects a profound respect for civic government. It just doesn’t visually scream: Submit or Dieand pay your Water Bill Here like the second one does.

People elsewhere call Boston Beantown. Locals never do. Some call it The Hub. But when this building was built, Boston was called “The Athens of America.” Boston’s rich tradition of civic virtue, education, culture made it an accurate description. But the basis of all culture and sophistication is an appreciation for mankind.

When you are designing and building a building, the human being is the template. All that stuff applied, and the forms of the spaces themselves, trace their proportions and rhythms and coloring back to the human form, and the world he inhabits. It’s the reason why the Parthenon doesn’t look goofy to anybody. It’s based on all humanity.

What is that miserable pile of brick and brutal concrete in the second picture representing? The worst instincts of men; no less. You are made to submit your humanity at the door — my mistake, the curb… hell two blocks away this thing sucks the life out of a passerby. At any rate, it’s the perfect example of the late sixties intellectual and architectural zeitgeist, that buildings are a machine that answers only to themselves and the crabby fools that design them, and their users are just fodder to be fed into the front door- if you can find it.

The current Mayor of Boston might be the least attractive example of a public official I can imagine. If he didn’t exude a sort of lumpen aura of venality and corruption, like a dim plumber who cheats on his bills, he’d have no interesting attributes at all. Even he’s got enough sense to want to tear the place down and start over. But the same sort of insane fans of Brutalist anti-human architecture that built the thing are trying to declare the building a Boston Landmark, so no one will ever be able to touch it. They understand that it would be a repudiation of their worldview, not just the building itself, and they’re going to be wrong, wrong, wrong right to the grave. They’ll fight tooth and nail for the Brezhnevian thing to the bitter end.

They built the new city hall because the old one was too small. The population of Boston is about 600,000 now. When they built the new one, it was about 600,000. When they built the old one, it was about 500,000. The government got big. It was the people that got small.

Quincy Market (Election Day)


-Gimme a pack a luckies and a Traveler, Sonny.

-Sure thing, Tom.

-Weather ain’t cooperatin’.

-Sit on the bench over there and read the paper. I’ll make joe. No sense tryin’ to drive west in the snow.

-I’ll see if the thieves in the State House are robbin’ me or botherin’ me today.

-If that’s all they’re doin’, they must be sleepin’ in.

-It’s good we got a Catholic in the corner office for an accomplice, anyway. The Curley ain’t Robin Hood, but he’ll do. Got my brother a job on the highway.

-I heard about that highway. Fell in, didn’t it?

-The man’s got the gift, he does, you’ve got to give it to him. They shoved their snoots and pencils in his face and said: The overpass collapsed, and your friend built it. What do you got to say about that…

-Oh, they’ll have to try harder than that…

-As God is my witness, Sonny, he says: “It was an injudicious mixture of sand and cement.” And the damn fool reporter just writes it down!

-What does he care what he puts in his paper? I’d rather read the Blarney, anyway. More interesting than the truth.

-And truer than the truth, maybe.

-Absotively.

-God, I lived in the City when The Curley was mayor. What a scream. The Great War breaks out and a Britisher comes and calls at the City Hall and asks for permission to try and enlist Bostonians of British descent to fight the Kaiser.

-And The Curley?

-“Go ahead; take every damn one of them.”

Pi Alley, Or: Return To The Scene Of The Crime

Lots of people were interested in my little diatribe about the Boston City Hall from last Friday. There were fewer defenders of the eyesore than the population of Larry Craig’s bathroom stall, but somebody must like it – it’s still standing. If someone trees one of the rascals let me know, and I’ll heat the tar.

Let’s not dwell on the bad and the ugly. Let’s look again at the good; the old Boston City Hall. Speaking of rascals, my mind wanders back, and wonders at how marvelous it would have been to stand before the lion’s head doors for a moment, and then go in and see former Mayor James Michael Curley in there. Ah, the politicians have gotten smaller, too. (click to embiggen the pictures)





Look at the Postmodern Bridge of Sighs rammed into the back of the building; tell the children to avert their eyes –it’s architectural sexual assault. Ah, yes. The bag man for the mayor always drove a Caddy, and always parked wherever they wanted to on Pi Alley

Tag: Boston

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