Look to your left for the Cowtown Place parking garage, a six-level structure of concrete and brick that occupies the exact footprint where the skyscraper in your app’s photo once stood.
It’s a bit humbling, isn’t it? To look at a parking garage and realize it sits on the grave of what was once the tallest building in the city. You are standing before the ghost of the Landmark Tower. Its story isn't just about architecture; it is a perfect example of Fort Worth’s sheer stubbornness in the face of bad luck.
The story begins in 1952. The Continental National Bank wanted a headquarters that screamed success, but construction halted at the fourth floor due to a sudden economic downturn. For four long years, the unfinished steel skeleton was mocked by locals as 'The Stump.'
But if there is one thing you can count on in Texas history, it’s that oil money eventually flows again. By 1956, the economy recovered, and the bank, led by men like J.G. Wilkinson, decided to finish what they started. But they had a problem. They wanted to go taller than the original plan, but heavy brick walls would crush the foundation.
So, the architect, Preston M. Geren-whose work we saw at the Convention Center-made a radical pivot. He scrapped the brick plans and wrapped the new upper floors in a lightweight aluminum skin-a "curtain wall." This was cutting-edge technology at the time. By reducing the building's "dead load"-which is just engineer-speak for the weight of the structure itself-they were able to shoot up to thirty stories without reinforcing the basement.
When it opened in 1957, it was the tallest building in Fort Worth. But the real showstopper was on the roof. They installed a massive, four-sided revolving digital clock. It weighed 77 tons and cost one hundred and ninety-six thousand dollars... which is roughly two million dollars in today's money. That is a lot of cash to spend just to tell people the time.
But it worked. It was listed in the Guinness Book of World Records. Two sides flashed the time in white floodlights, and the other two glowed with the letters "CNB"-for Continental National Bank-in neon green. Historian John Roberts remembers staring at it as a kid. That rotating green beacon was visible for miles across the dark Texas prairie, a lighthouse guiding drivers into the city.
However, gravity and time are undefeated. The clock’s motor burned out in 1978, and rather than fix it, they just bolted it in place. The bank moved out in the early 80s, and by 1990, the tower was abandoned. It stood vacant for sixteen years. The final blow came in March 2000, when the tornado slammed into downtown. While other buildings were repaired, the Landmark Tower’s narrow design made it too expensive to fix. It became known as the "plywood skyscraper" because of all the boarded-up windows.
In 2006, after XTO Energy determined it would cost over sixty million dollars to renovate, they made the hard call. On a rainy Saturday morning, they packed the columns with 364 pounds of explosives. In a matter of seconds, the city’s former giant crumbled into dust.
It’s a reminder that even the biggest icons can disappear, making way for the practical necessities of today... like parking.
From a building that fell, let's walk toward one that survived and thrived. We are heading to the Blackstone Hotel next, about a five-minute walk away.
