In a Nutshell — Union Station
By Robert W. Grzywacz
Hamlet says:
I could be bounded in a nutshell, and
count my self a King of infinite space
One of the beauties of our architectural heritage, carefully studied, is that it can in some ways encompass a large universe for our exploration within the nutshell of its finite fabric. An example is our own Union Station, now turned 100 years old, and a living reminder of how important preservation advocacy can be. The New Haven Preservation Trust was a prime advocate for the preservation and restoration of the station in the late 1970s and early 1980, a project that was finally realized in 1985.
But what of the nutshell? We see today a beautiful building, the gateway to our city. What forces shaped Union Station into the building we know?
Union Station Waiting Room.
Function first. A major city like New Haven (population 162,000 in 1920) generates major traffic, and before the auto and the airplane, essentially all came by rail. In 1905, the New Haven railroad, which controlled essentially all rail traffic in Connecticut, Rhode Island, and southeast Massachusetts, carried over 63,000,000 passengers. Not all originated or terminated in New Haven, but a lot did. In that year the railroad generated 48% of its gross earnings from passenger traffic.
A large room is needed to receive and hold those incoming and leaving passengers. And that large room is the first and last thing you remember about New Haven, so it must impress. And as the “gateway to the city,” this room, and this station were part of a larger vision of the architect, Cass Gilbert. Locally Gilbert designed our Library and nationally he was responsible for such buildings as the Woolworth Building in New York City and the U.S. Supreme Court in Washington, D.C.
New Haven Free Public Library, 133 Elm Street. Architect: Cass Gilbert, 1908.
Gilbert and Olmsted’s Preliminary Plan: Improvement of the City of New Haven, 1910.
Gilbert’s sketches showing a boulevard leading to a terminal forecourt.
Gilbert had been thinking about New Haven since 1907–8 when the Library was designed and built. In 1910 he and Fredrick Law Olmsted, Jr. completed a Civic Improvement Plan, the central feature of which, in the City Beautiful tradition, was a monumental cranked axis leading from the Green via Temple Street to a Parisian-style plaza just about where Temple crossed old Oak Street. At that point, a boulevard (Parisian or McMillan Plan Washington D.C., take your pick) would lead to a terminal forecourt before the not yet designed Union Station. His intent was clear from his sketches.
And what did he intend for the station? Well we have two suggestions. One was a muscular, rusticated stone Beaux Arts monument. The second was a Colonial Revival edifice in brick with white Doric paired pilasters rising from a rusticated base and supporting a strong cornice. Both have three monumental arches announcing the grand waiting room beyond. There is a suggestion that the former design was the one favored. A post card exists, sent in 1913 of this rendering; one might infer, given this design made it to print, that this was the preferred design. But the station we have is neither, why?
Gilbert’s sketch suggesting a stone Beaux Arts monument.
Gilbert’s sketch suggesting a Colonial Revival edifice.
So far our nutshell contains a building, a master plan, an assessment of transportation options, references to turn of the twentieth century planning and architecture trends, and references to national and European urban precedents. Not bad for one little container. Now we add a bit of world history, economic factors, a local disaster, and a judicial milestone.
As the New Haven Railroad approached building a new station in 1910, it was coming off nearly 20 years of massive investment in its infrastructure. In the 1890s it completely rebuilt its mainline from New Haven to New York, doubling its width to four tracks and separating these tracks from local streets. This is seen particularly clearly in the near continuous viaduct in Bridgeport, and also by what you don’t see all that way — no grade crossings where accidents could occur. The result was a first class line that could (and does) accommodate an incredible density of trains and at high speed.
In 1899 Boston’s South Street station was built. At the time, it was the biggest station in the country, and had the world’s largest passenger volume by 1913.
From 1906 to 1914 the line to New York was electrified, the first extensive electrification of a railroad main line. Between 1910 and 1920 the Cedar Hill railroad yard was built (where Home Depot, Target, and their neighboring shopping centers are now located). This, in conjunction with facilities adjacent to Union Station, was where electric locomotives were replaced by steam as trains proceeded east or north. This is also where 15,000 freight cars could be processed a day.
By 1910, the railroad had spent a great deal of money, estimated at $120,000,000 on long term system improvements. As a point of reference, in 1920, the Federal Budget was $6,785,000,000. The New Haven Railroad was big and spent big.
Unfortunately, the directors of the railroad also went on buying many loosing investments, notably trolleys, and were, shall we say, adept at enriching themselves without benefitting the railroad. The overextended finances and profligate spending of the railroad came to an abrupt halt in 1913 with a major anti-trust case wherein the Interstate Commerce Commission charged the directors of the railroad with “extravagance and political corruption and its board of directors with dereliction of duty.” The advocate behind pursuing this malfeasance was future Supreme Court Justice Louis D. Brandeis.
The station today, as completed in 1920.
Needless to say, the ability to spend was greatly diminished. And then came World War I and the nationalization of the railroads; a new station was not likely a war priority. Until, that is, the 1875 station burned to the ground in 1918, after having been closed in 1917 in anticipation of the construction of the new station. And so, a new station was needed and quickly; and a new station was built. But the built station of 1920 diverged from the detailed sketches of 1910.
The bold articulation of columns, rustication, and the push and pull of the masses in the Beaux Arts proposal are long gone. Even the pilasters, tall base, and strong cornice of the Colonial Revival have been jettisoned. The waiting room, projecting boldly both forward and up in both proposals has been largely reined into an overall simple block of a mass that is now capped by a continuous attic story (company offices). The brickwork is now so volumetric, so smooth, so planar, one could say it has become proto modernist. And yet there is a residual richness in the bonding of the brick and the cascade of the grand portal archivolts — 1 brick wide, then 2 ½, then ½ and finally 1 — a richness built out of the smallest and most necessary building components. If, as Lou Kahn said, “a brick wants to be an arch,” these bricks fully achieved their aspirations. One certainly senses that while the money spent may have been limited, Gilbert insured it was spent thoughtfully and well.
The cascade of the grand portal archivolts.
And good building repays repeated inspection with opportunities to reflect on why it is who it is. Who, because, in a way it is animate. And who it is is shaped by forces that impinged on its life.
This is only part of Union Station’s story. But in its nutshell one can see bounded a world of architecture, urban planning, business growth, technological triumph, economics, corruption, legal landmarks, war, and the ability of a great architect to work within all this and craft an enduring living landmark.
Robert W. Grzywacz serves on the Board of Directors of the New Haven Preservation Trust.