Talking about Jody’s roof cooling problems reminded me of the old courthouse in downtown Tampa. It was built during the Great Depression, when materials and labor were cheap (it was probably some New Deal WPA project) but it was not all that different from a lot of the commercial architecture of that time. It was a friendly building, built to a human scale, it covered half a city block and was three stories high.
This was before air conditioning became common, and I used to really like going there with Mom when I was a kid because the building was always cool and comfortable, even though it was only cooled by clever architecture and a few big electric fans they wheeled out on the hottest days.
The building was made to last, of fine decorative stone like polished gray granite or gabbro. The interiors walls were white plaster with carved wood trim and the floors were cool stone tiles laid out in clever geometrical patterns, but there was a huge vaulted open space inside so you could look up and see the offices all the way up to the third floor, along the exterior walls, by standing on the ground floor. Glass skylights provided illumination.
It was not an efficient use of interior volume, but it allowed hot air to rise out of the building into a dome where it could be vented out, and the wide balconies invited shoeshine boys, newstands and snack and beverage vendors to do business; the wide platforms and landings were supplied with benches, or tall railings you could lean on and look down or up to other floors. There were always guys in fancy suits and pretty ladies in fine clothes conducting their business there, or just leaning on the railings smoking or reading their newspapers.
Access to the upper floors was by wide stone staircases with dark hardwood bannisters and trim. No matter where you were in that building, you were instantly oriented, you could tell where you wanted to go and how to get there, and the exits (big glass doors)were clearly visible. You could easily find your way to whatever outside door you needed to get to a particular street, and you knew where the compass points were. The building felt comfortable, you were never lost in it, it made sense. You got the impression that in an emergency, like a fire, you would have no trouble finding a way out. And no matter how busy it was, there always seemed to be plenty of room. I bet the Romans built their public builings like this. I understand the big train stations in Manhattan, Grand Central and Pennsylvania, were built on the same floor plans as the Baths at Carcalla, and the Pantheon.
You don’t get that feeling in a modern building. The minute you go in, you’re lost, and you have to be led by signs or guards to wherever you are going. It’s easy to get turned around, and you always have to ask someone where the bathroom or the coffee shop is. The hallways are narrow, the ceilings low, and all the doors are closed. The elevator is never where you expect it, and the stairwells are dirty, claustrophobic and scary. There are few or no windows. You quickly get disoriented.
Space may be used more effectively than in the old courthouse, but you’d think in those days they had much more reason to be thrifty than they do today. And you get the impression modern architects don’t really know how to design a public builing any more. Sure, if you work there every day, you learn your way around OK, but little thought has been given to accommodating the citizen who just walks in to conduct his business.
Eventually, a new, bigger courthouse was built, to the modern style. The old courthouse became a post office, and it has probably been demolished by now and replaced by a skyscraper, another jewel in the crown for Tampa’s fancy new skyline. The old building would no doubt have still been perfectly serviceable, the plumbing and wiring might get old, but the stone and tile and most of the trim should have lasted forever if it was taken care of. But it probably wasn’t economical to do so any more.