On your right stands the headquarters of the American Institute of Architects.
Washington is, in many ways, a theater. The politicians are the actors, the laws are the script, but the architects... they build the set. They build the stage where authority performs. This curved brick and glass structure is the home base for the people who decide what that stage looks like.
The Institute, or AIA, didn't start with glass curves and open lobbies. It began in New York City in 1857, back when just about anyone with a pencil and a ruler could claim to be an architect. It was the Wild West of construction. Thirteen men gathered to change that, led by Richard Upjohn. Now, Upjohn was a character. He was a devout Episcopalian who specialized in Gothic Revival churches. He was so committed to his personal code that he famously refused to design a church for Unitarians because he didn't consider them......let's say, sufficiently Christian.
That refusal to compromise set the tone. They wanted to elevate architecture from a mere trade to a gentleman’s profession. But high standards often mean high walls.
For a long time, those walls kept people out. Take Louise Blanchard Bethune. She was the first female member, a total pioneer. But in 1893, for the World's Columbian Exposition in Chicago, she refused to submit a design for the Woman's Building. The reason was simple math. The male architects were getting paid ten thousand dollars for their buildings-which is well over three hundred thousand dollars in today's money. The women were offered one thousand. Bethune publicly boycotted, refusing to work for a fraction of her worth.
Then there is the story of Paul Revere Williams, the first Black member, admitted in 1923. He designed homes for Hollywood royalty like Frank Sinatra and Lucille Ball. But despite his genius, he had to navigate a segregated world. He taught himself to draw upside down. Why? So he could sit across the desk from white clients who might be uncomfortable sitting next to him. He sketched their dreams in reverse so he wouldn't violate their social prejudices.
It wasn't until 1968 that the profession truly looked in the mirror. Civil rights leader Whitney M. Young Jr. stood before their national convention and delivered a scorching speech. He told the room full of architects that they were distinguished by their quote... "thunderous silence"... unquote... regarding civil rights.
Even the building you are looking at now was born from a battle of egos. In the mid-sixties, a firm called Mitchell/Giurgola won a competition to design this headquarters. They planned a glass "notch" in the facade to frame a historic house nearby. But they had to get approval from the Commission of Fine Arts. Sitting on that commission was Gordon Bunshaft, a stern modernist who didn't mince words. He called the design "ugly" and an "absolute disaster."
Most people would have caved to that kind of pressure. Giurgola didn't. He refused to change his vision and resigned from the commission entirely. The building you see today was eventually redesigned by The Architects Collaborative and finished in 1973. It stands as a reminder that while architects design the halls of power, they are also subject to the political machinery they build.
We have a bit of a walk to our next stop. We are going to head toward the Organization of American States, a symbol of international cooperation that sits about six minutes away. Let's get moving.
