Turn your attention to the slender rectangular glass high-rise defined by its vibrant alternating bands of bright blue porcelain panels. This colorful eighteen story splash of mid century modernism is 211 North Ervay, and it is a monument to the kind of sheer will that built this city.
The story starts with a guy named Leo Corrigan. Born into deep poverty in a St. Louis slum, Corrigan arrived in Dallas in 1910 and kicked off his career just selling classified ads for the local paper. He didn't have much capital of his own, but he had incredible hustle, securing leases from merchants and using them as collateral until he eventually became known as the largest landlord in the entire country by the 1970s. This tower, opened in 1958, was his fourth major downtown office building.
If you check the screen on your app, you can see a great shot of the building's signature exterior. That striking color comes from alternating azure and aquamarine porcelain spandrels. Spandrels are just the horizontal panels you see between the windows that hide the floor structures and add a clean, unbroken visual line to the facade. That cool blue look was a popular way to inject some life into the otherwise drab, gray skylines of the mid twentieth century. And here is a fun local connection for you. Those brightly colored panels were actually manufactured by the exact same company responsible for creating the iconic flying red Pegasus sign that famously sits atop the Magnolia Building nearby.
At first, the building was a major success, packed with insurance companies and aviation firms. But Dallas real estate has always been a volatile rollercoaster of booms and busts. As newer, much larger skyscrapers popped up around it, tenants moved out. By 1995, this bright blue beacon was completely vacant. It was labeled an eyesore, and in 2004, the mayor campaigned to bulldoze the slim tower to extend a neighboring plaza. Fortunately, preservationists stepped in to save this rare example of 1950s architecture from the wrecking ball.
Since then, people have constantly tried to recapture that original Corrigan magic. In the 2010s, another developer tried to turn it into a high tech mecca, but that era crashed and burned by 2018 after a bitter dispute with a tenant caused everyone to pack up and leave. Then, in 2023, an ambitious thirty two million dollar plan was launched to convert the tower into luxury apartments and a hotel. That grand vision collapsed in just a few months when the firm defaulted on millions in loans, resulting in the building being sold off at a foreclosure auction for a fraction of its value.
Take one last look at those colorful blue panels that have somehow survived all the big dreams and broken promises. We are going to take a one minute walk to the Comerica Bank Tower next, where the financial disasters get quite a bit darker.
