On your right, look for the cream-colored, Art Deco building with a blocky corner, rows of dark windows, and a zigzagged crown along the roofline.
This is the Pythian Building, and it’s basically a snapshot of Tulsa’s optimism-and its sudden, very rude interruption. Construction kicked off in 1929, backed by two local oilmen, J. M. Gillette and H. C. Tyrrell. The original dream was ambitious: a three-story office base with a ten-story hotel stacked on top, like someone said, “Let’s build confidence, but make it taller.” Then the Great Depression showed up, and the plans collapsed faster than a bad stock tip. The project froze at the third floor.
In 1931, the half-finished building found a new owner: the Knights of Pythias, a fraternal organization that was big on ceremony, community, and-apparently-finishing what other people started. They pushed it forward as office space and gave it the name you know today.
Take a second to notice how much personality got baked into the exterior. The front is divided by slim vertical strips that run all the way up, and they’re decorated with back-to-back diamond shapes-those Art Deco zigzags that look like they’re trying to conduct electricity. Blue terra cotta pops in the details, and up at the roofline you’ll catch richer colors-blue, burnt sienna, and green-like the building decided to dress up for a night out. Down at street level, the openings have a Tudor-arch shape, but filled with steel-and-glass patterns that feel more machine-age than medieval.
It earned a spot on the National Register of Historic Places in 1982, and it also helps define the Oil Capital Historic District-because in Tulsa, even the buildings keep receipts.
In more recent years, it bounced around investment portfolios; at one point it was listed for sealed bids with a minimum of $1.4 million in 2012-about $1.9 million today-and it was mostly leased, which is the real Downtown love language.
Ready for First Place Tower? Just walk southeast for 5 minutes.
