On January 11th, Providence Station was officially ranked in my mind as among the coldest places in southern New England, due mostly to the fact that its platforms are designed like an industrial wind tunnel, which not only compresses the gentlest breeze into a gale-force punch in the eye, but also encourages stiff numbness of the social variety among its human inhabitants. But I did not much care, because I was embarking on a journey to New York, where I would be included in a SAH Study Tour of exactly the sort my Ph.D. research requires: a guided presentation of the MoMA’s exhibition Bauhaus 1919-1933: Workshops for Modernity. I was so thrilled about my destination, and so grateful for the graduate student Fellowship that was making it possible, that no amount of skinning wind or number of “Rhode Island Smiles” could faze me.
Taking the Amtrak to New Haven and there switching to the Metro-North commuter rail is not only the cheapest way to ride the rails from Providence to NYC, is also means that one arrives in style, greeting the city in the lustrous Grand Central Terminal, rather than scurrying through the sordid Penn Station.
I emerged from the frenetic netherworld in the early evening, and promptly strolled to the Flatiron District before heading over and up to 230 Fifth, a rooftop bar that affords one a view of the upper Manhattan skyline at an unbeatable price: free!
There I camped out under a heat lamp to review my notes on a couple of the MoMA exhibition’s catalog essays, which had been kindly provided by SAH so that everyone could read up and make the most of the Study Tour. After soaking up the view (and a beer), I packed up and headed to the hotel for an early night. It was, after all, very cold–and I did not come to New York to play.
After a morning review session over coffee at a friendly
breakfast joint down the street from my hotel, I rode the No. 6
subway up to the 51st Street Station. This left me a number of
blocks east of the MoMA, of course, but it seemed like a fine
idea to take the scenic route on foot, hitting a few
Bauhaus-relevant New York landmarks before stepping into the
exhibition.
I strolled passed the 1952 Lever House and, more importantly where the day was concerned, former Bauhaus director Mies van der Rohe’s 1958 Seagram Building. In some ways, I suppose, this enormous structure represents the terminal point on a historical axis that runs through its architect’s rather dramatic life, much of which would be delineated, or at least touched upon, in the Bauhaus exhibition down the street. Visiting this historic building on the morning of the Study Tour put a strong whiff of destiny in the air.
I followed my nose a few blocks west, and it took me to another landmark skyscraper, this one by Mies van der Rohe’s very own protégé, Philip Johnson. Of course, Mr. Johnson was a central figure at the MoMA, and was instrumental in linking the institutional DNA of the MoMA and the Bauhaus–so his ghost would also be joining me on the Study Tour. I glanced up and did my very best to photograph the immense form of his 1984 AT&T Building (now the Sony Building), ironically one of the most dramatic opening salvos of the Post-modern movement. The structure seems literally to be wearing a funny hat to spite the stern, self-serious Seagram Building a few blocks over (which, of course, Johnson had played a role in developing long before he flew the orthodox Modernist coop).
Finally, after a few more conscientious wanderings, I arrived at the MoMA, which looked quite dignified in the morning light, save for the UTZ Quality Foods truck parked suspiciously outside (it appears that even the city’s intellectual elite cannot cleave themselves from Cheese Crunchies®, or resist the siren’s song of Pork Cracklins®–though I do not judge!). If this was a surveillance station, those responsible could not have picked a less likely vehicle.
Upon entering the MoMA, I was at first puzzled as to which group was mine–but a few well-placed inquiries proved fruitful, and in no time I was properly situated.
It was a thrill indeed to commence the Study Tour. Ever since falling in love with Barry Bergdoll’s 19th-Century Architecture survey book while earning my MA at the Savannah College of Art and Design, I have wanted to meet him, and now I was face-to-face with not only him, but a number of distinguished scholars with whom I would enjoy sharing an elevator, let alone an entire day of inquiry and discussion.
This particular tour was not only a rare privilege because it was led by the curators of the Bauhaus exhibition, but also because it transpired on a day during which the museum is closed to the public. Such peace and quiet–so eerily remarkable in the always-popular MoMA–ensured that everyone could be heard all of the time, and was more than accommodating to the moments of quiet observation and contemplation that we were encouraged to seek out along the tour.
We were offered a statement of introduction at the threshold, which not only addressed the art historical material in question, but also offered some comments as to the methodologies used to construct and frame the exhibition.
Afterwards, Bergdoll led us into the first room of the exhibit itself, where Leah Dickerman–his fellow curator and lead contributor to the excellent, voluminous catalog–spoke to us. Unfortunately, I was not allowed to take photographs of the exhibit itself, due to the image rights retained by lending institutions.
There are many stories told by this exhibition. Even the enormous catalog cannot do justice to all the strands and traces, all the lives and relationships, ideas and sympathies, that made and unmade and remade the Bauhaus through its many years as one of the most important pedagogical institutions of the 20th century. Of course, different interests draw different highlights out of the material. I was personally delighted to see so much of Paul Klee’s work set in the context of the classroom, cast in a new light provided by the work of his students in addition to and aside from that of his already famous colleagues. I was also amazed by the large and diverse number of architectural drawings of a particularly ecclesiastical nature that suggested a number of the different Bauhaus-fostered theories of modernity were seen, at least in part, as new religious structures. Seeing the “Romantic” or “African” chair was also incredible–this piece’s importance as the “primitive” starting point for a famous diagram illustrating a Bauhaus-exclusive evolution of the chair speaks volumes about some of the stranger (and perhaps less palatable) theories regarding phases of workshop “progress” and their cultural equivalencies around the world.
It was certainly a comprehensive, all-star show: Breuer was there, and Moholy-Nagy, and Meyer, and the Gropius family. But one of the aspects that I most enjoyed was the presence of the students. So often, the Bauhaus comes across not as a school, but rather as a super-group or dream-team of Modernist designers. There is no question that its roster reads like a Who’s Who of mid-20th century Modernism. But I tend to favor the argument that it was as a school that the institution has had its deepest and most enduring effects on our planet. For this reason it may be somewhat ironic that the Bauhaus failed to produce a crop of graduates that could rival its professors in terms of the quality of their work (which, of course, may say something about the quality of their professors’ educations, which were largely not conducted at the Bauhaus). Rather than a crack student body, the school produced a potent body of pedagogical methods and philosophies that have been adopted, to a greater and/or lesser degree, by thousands of institutions of higher learning all over the world. In the end the Bauhaus was, perhaps, an exemplary school for teachers, first and foremost. But at least this exhibition dragged the students, eternal interns though they may be, out onto the stage, and presented them less like anonymous sounding boards for the genius of their tutors and more like real people who were part of a complex, nuanced community that changed over time. This was one of the most refreshing aspects of the exhibition, and it was reinforced in the Study Tour.
We were spoken to briefly by Jerry Neuner, the exhibition designer, and given a presentation of historical context by Juliet Kinchin.
Then we were taken to the archives, where we were not only presented with a special view of the MoMA’s courtyard by dimming twilight, but also a special collection of drawings from the Mies van der Rohe collection, thoughtfully pulled from the shelves and presented by Barry Bergdoll and Dietrich Neumann. As if the private, personal tour of the exhibition was not intimate enough, we finished the day by pouring over a series of small-scale drawings and discussing their context in the history of Mies as an architect and, indeed, as a real human being. His affection for nature is, for example, much more evident in some of his softer drawings than at, say, the Seagram Building.
Finally, glasses of wine and more chatting rounded the evening
off upstairs in the library. The MoMA staff could not have been
more courteous and kind. Our group was excellent, and our Study
Tour guides were literally the best one could ask for (one cannot
ask for much more than the curators when setting off on a special
exhibition tour). After the evening wound down, I sprinted to
Grand Central to catch a train to New Haven, so that I could
catch a train to Providence.
The wait was not too terribly long in the middle, and I always enjoy the great hall in Cass Gilbert's 1920 Union Station, even in the quiet hours of the New Haven night. And anyway, as the Fellowship recipient for this fantastic SAH Study Tour, I had much to think about, and much for which to be grateful.
Above and below,
cornerstones for the Wheat Street Baptist Church , 365 Auburn
Avenue.
Nothing really historically significant about this sign, I just
liked the name "Soul Food Museum".
Martin J. Holland
As a young scholar, interested in writing on the topic of memorials and concerned with guaranteeing an equitable and pluralistic society, this tour was simply incredible. My thanks to all the staff of the Society of Architectural Historians for administrating the study tour fellowships. This is a truly worthwhile program and I would strongly encourage other young scholars and graduate students to apply for a traveling fellowship, especially when the tour’s content is related to your own scholarship or interests. I also have to thank Perdita Welch and Allison Larkin of International Seminar Design Inc- they were able to get the study tour group in places normally completely inaccessible to members of the general public. I also have to offer my deepest thanks to Abigail Van Slyck, the SAH representative who also attended the tour for keeping everything running smooth, and for asking some wonderfully probing questions. The group members of the study tour themselves were incredible, thank you for your companionship and your conversation. I learned a lot from your comments and from your expertise.
I must also offer Dr. Dell Upton a huge thank you for not only the countless hours that he spent organizing the tour, but also sharing his research with us. As a graduate student working away on a dissertation, I learned an amazing array of techniques concerning the built environment from Dr. Upton’s keen observations and methodology.
Lastly I have to thank all of you, the general membership of the SAH, for your generosity and financial support in establishing these travelling fellowships. For years I have witnessed first hand the slow but constant withering of resources available to students in post secondary educational institutions. The ability for the SAH to offer not one, but three fellowships to new scholars and graduate students is nothing short of remarkable, and a testament to the quality of you the members of the SAH. I know that many of you are probably suffering from donor fatigue, but to have attended this particular tour, and to have witnessed both the tragedies and the triumphs of the civil rights movement has been nothing short of life changing for me. For the opportunity to attend this tour, I am in your debit.
P.S. Thanks to everyone who followed me on Twitter- and I again apologize for some of the spelling mistakes, next time I will bring along a blackberry with an actual key board rather than my overly touch sensitive iphone! Keep looking for updates on Twitter as well!
Best regards,
Martin
Despite being a Sunday, our last day of the study tour was as full and busy as the other days. We started our day visiting the Bethel Baptist Church, which was subject to three separate bomb attacks during the 1950’s and 1960’s. The first attack on the church and its pastor, the Rev. Fred Lee Shuttlesworth, occurred in the early hours of Christmas Day 1956. An explosive device made up of some nineteen sticks of dynamite was placed between the small alley between church and the parsonage, just mere feet from the bedroom of the pastor. The resulting explosion, while completely destroying the parsonage, left the reverend unharmed. The church sustained heavy damage, with all of its windows broken, and structural repairs required before services could be once again conducted. The attack on the church caused the congregation to establish a round the clock watch on the church and a security detail for their pastor, out of fear for his life. Such precautions proved wise as the church was again attacked in 1958, when another explosive device was left on the eastern side of the church. This time, thanks to the quick and brave actions of the guards, disaster was averted. The guards were able to defuse the majority of live explosives, and throw the remaining nine sticks of dynamite away from the church’s foundation into an adjacent, open field. The resulting explosion still smashed the windows of the church, but given the placement of the bomb, and the fifty-four sticks of dynamite that it originally contained, catastrophic structural damage that would have demolished the church was avoided. With this second attack on the church, local neighbors and members of other churches in Birmingham started to volunteer to augment the churches security. The last attack occurred when six sticks of dynamite were thrown from a speeding car, landing on the main entrance landing at the front of the church. Once again, there was significant damage to the church, but thankfully no loss of life.
Our hosts for the tour of Bethel Baptist were Mrs. Hightower and Deacon Stone, both long term members of the church, who held us riveted not only with their knowledge of these horrific attacks, but their incredible sense of optimism. Despite continual harassment by the police, and attacks on their church, they noted that a large majority of the congregation never waivered in their struggle for equality. While some members were open about their concern that the moral and political stance that the church was taking would “get them all killed”, the church did not abandon the cause, or lose members.
While Bethel Baptist Church building is currently in disrepair, they have already plans for a complete restoration that should get underway within the year. Members of the congregation built a larger church just a block away that is twice the size of the location we saw, and their numbers of the congregation continually grow. I was able to record a snippet of the oral history that Deacon Stone and Mrs. Hightower provided on my smart phone, which I have posted below in a movie format. Sorry for the poor quality of the audio.
Photo: The exterior of the church as it stands today. The parsonage used to stand directly adjacent to the western wall of the church that we see above.
This image, taken from A Walk To Freedom, The Reverend Fred Shuttlesworth and the Alabama Christian Movement for Human Rights, 1956-1964 by the Birmingham Historical Society shows how close the parsonage was to the church. Reverend Fred Shuttlesworth is in the upper right hand of the photo.
The above photo, also from A Walk To Freedom, The Reverend Fred Shuttlesworth and the Alabama Christian Movement for Human Rights, 1956-1964 by the Birmingham Historical Society shows the destruction of the first bombing against Bethel Baptist Church.
Photo of Mrs. Hightower and Deacon Stone.
After we left Bethel Baptist Church, we toured the predominately African American neighborhood nicknamed “Dynamite Hill”. It seems that those who were unwilling to recognize racial equality, and resorted to violence and intimidation were not below planting explosives at private residences. “Dynamite Hill” received its name from the seven separate attacks using explosives within the neighborhood in 1957 alone.
We left the neighborhood to go to the Sixteenth Avenue Church prior to their Sunday Service being held. The Church was under construction from 1909 through to 1911, and was designed by Wallace A. Rayfield and Company. It was also the site of a bombing in 1963, and unlike Bethel Baptist church, there were causalities from this terrible incident. Four young girls, Addie May Collins, Carol Denise McNair, Carole Rosmond Robertson, and Cynthia Diane Wesley were all killed when the ten sticks of dynamite planted by the Ku Klux Klan exploded during their Sunday school service.
In response to the attack, and the considerable anger that was felt by both black and white residents of Birmingham, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. stated: “We must not harbor the desire to retaliate with violence. The deaths may well serve as the redemptive force that brings light to this dark city.”
In 2008, the church established a memorial to the four girls.

The role of the Sixteenth Avenue Church within the struggle for civil rights cannot be overstated, and a key factor of that critical role had to do with the church’s physical location. Sixteenth Avenue was a racial dividing line within the city of Birmingham, and the church was directly on that invisible, but very real line that segregated blacks from whites. As a result, it became a natural starting point for protest marches, and in May of 1963 was the point of origin for the Children’s Crusade. The crusade was organized to show the world the extent of racial segregation within Birmingham, and how even young African American children would be arrested if they merely walked over to the southern side of Sixteenth Avenue into Kelly Ingram Park.
Photo: The Sixteenth Avenue Baptist Church.
Kelly Ingram Park was named after the first white sailor to perish in World War I, and while it was far removed from white neighborhoods, it was directly adjacent to a large African American neighborhood and business district. Despite of its location, it was on the other side of the color line, and forbidden to be used by Birmingham’s black community. To protest racial segregation, it was also the site for some of the most disturbing imagery to come out of the civil rights movement. White police with batons in hand met many of the protesters, as did snarling police dogs, water cannons, and tear gas. These troubling events are now all recognized in Kelly Ingram Park with the following memorials.
Photo: "Dogs"/ "Foot Solder Tribute".
Photo:"Firehosing of demonstrators"
Photo:"Praying Ministers"
Photo: "Martin Luther King Jr. Monument"
Photo: "The Children's March"
Photo:"Police Dog Attack"
We then had an hour or two to visit the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute located on the northeast side of Sixteenth Avenue. The Institute is a wonderful resource and places the visitor directly into the historical and cultural context of the early stages of the civil rights movement. The institute also has on display the jail cell where on the night of April 16, 1963 Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. pens his famous “Letter from the Birmingham Jail” which was a response to white clergy criticizing the efforts of the civil rights movement as “unwise and untimely”.
Our last destination for the tour was the 4th Avenue business district, which served as the economic and cultural center for African Americans in Birmingham. Predominately occupied with black owned businesses, it was much like Auburn Avenue in Atlanta, where monies generated within the district stayed within the area to help foster and reinforce economic opportunities for the black middle class. Arthur George Gaston, a wealthy and talented black entrepreneur, was directly responsible for at least four separate businesses within the district, including a hotel, radio station, insurance company and funeral home. The business district, like many downtown areas in many American cities, has unfortunately fallen upon tough times. Dr. Upton provided an incredible amount of detail to not only the architectural history of the buildings that we were seeing, but a rich and textured social history as well.
Photo of Dr. Upton in front of AG Gaston’s hotel.
Dinner was also a special occasion, as for our last night we were served a traditional southern dinner that included collard greens, fried chicken, sweet potatoes, macaroni and cheese. All of this feast was prepared by Chef Clayton Sherrod, who also treated us with a reflection of his own experiences growing up in Birmingham during the civil rights struggle, and how he soon learned that he could not remain silent when he saw injustice in the world and how he could not let others determine the course of his own life. The meal, and his presentation, were excellent.
We had a special treat arranged for us this morning- Perdita Welch had been able to arrange a visit inside Mrs. Rosa Parks’ home at the Cleveland Courts public Housing in Montgomery, Alabama.
Photo: The Rosa Parks' home.
The Cleveland Courts were constructed in the early 1940’s to counteract the lack of affordable and adequate housing in the south. The apartments still serve as public housing today.
Photo: Interior shot of Mrs. Rosa Parks’ home.
We then visited the “Brick – A - Day” church, also known as the First Baptist Church of Montgomery, which played a central role in the struggle for equality during the civil rights era. The “Brick - A – Day” nickname came from the donation of home-made bricks made by the congregation membership to the rebuilding efforts after a fire destroyed the church in the early nineteen hundreds. The reconstruction effort lasted for five years, from 1910 to 1915 when the church was finally completed. Reverend R.D. Abernathy, a central figure of the civil rights movement, and close friend to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was also the pastor of this church from 1952 to 1961.
While there, we had the good fortune to have an organ recital performed for us by Mrs. Essley Gomiller. She served as the church’s organist for some forty-nine consecutive years. I was able to record a small snippet of the tail end of the recital. Please click on the image below this entire post to play the movie.
Photo of interior of the First Baptist Church of Montgomery.
Photo of exterior of the First Baptist Church of Montgomery.
Our next stop was the Dexter Avenue King Memorial Baptist Church, which is located just a stone’s throw from the State capital. This proximity is of critical importance, as Dexter Avenue has had a very troubled and difficult past. On the low end of the street, a slave auction market was established just after the founding of the city, and the site of the church itself was once the headquarters of a slave trader.
Photo of the State Capital and a memorial recognizing the swearing in of Jefferson Davis as President of the Confederate States of America on February 18, 1861.
Photo of Dexter Avenue King Memorial Church.
Dexter Avenue Church had its first worship service in 1889 on Thanksgiving Day, but its planning can be traced as far back as 1877. The church had been without a minister since 1953 when Rev. Vernon Johns left Montgomery. However, R.D. Nesbitt Sr. one of the church’s deacons had heard of a powerful, young preacher in Atlanta who he wanted to bring to Montgomery as the church’s new pastor. That young preacher was Martin Luther King Jr., and he was barely twenty-four years old. The Dexter Avenue King Memorial Church was also the only church that Dr. King ever pastored.
It was also in the church’s basement that the decision to launch the Montgomery Bus Boycott was made on December 2, 1955 a day after the arrest of a young seamstress named Rosa Parks. Originally intended to last just a single day, the boycott lasted three hundred and eighty one days, and involved the creation of ride sharing for some forty thousand African Americans day.
Photo: Interior of the Dexter Avenue Church.
Just up the street from the historic Dexter Avenue Church is the Civil Rights Memorial Center, whose outside memorial was designed by Maya Lin in 1989. The memorial is to the forty plus people who lost their lives in the fight for desegregation, and to the landmark legal rules that officially ended the discriminatory practice on a national level.
Photo of The Civil Rights Memorial designed by Maya Lin.
Our last stop in Montgomery was to visit the parsonage that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. called home while he was the Pastor at the Dexter Avenue Church. The home, on South Jackson Street, was squarely located in the center of the black middle class neighborhood of Centennial Hill. The home, built in 1912 became the parsonage used by Dr. King when he accepted the pastoral responsibilities of Dexter Avenue church in 1954. If you look closely at the photograph of the exterior of the home, you will notice that the windows of the left hand side do not match the windows on the right. The reason that this is the case is that on the evening of January 31, 1956 a bomb was thrown onto the porch and the resulting explosion destroyed the windows and damaged much of the exterior of the home. Despite shrapnel being stuck in the interior walls, thankfully no one was injured despite Mrs. King and her children being present in the home at the time of the bombing.
Photo of Dexter Street Parsonage Museum.
Photo of the bombing plaque.
We left Birmingham for Selma, but just outside of the city limits of Birmingham we stopped off at a roadside memorial dedicated to Viola Liuzzo. Viola Liuzzo was a housewife from Detroit Michigan who, after seeing the police brutality that met the first effort of African Americans to walk from Selma to Montgomery on March 7, 1965, decided that she had to drive to Selma to offer any assistance that she could. While driving local protest organizers home along highway 80, a car containing four Ku Klux Klan members (one of whom was a police informant) open fired on the vehicle, killing her instantly. The memorial was paid for by the SCLC (Southern Christian Leadership Conference) and the International Brotherhood of Teamsters and was completed in 1991. Due to numerous defacements, including the painting of the Confederate flag on the memorial, a fence was established around the memorial’s perimeter in 1999.
Photo of Viola Liuzzo Memorial.
As we entered the city limits of Selma, we stopped briefly at the memorial park on the far side of the Edmund Pettis Bridge, where the SCLC established a series of memorials to the key figures in both the national and local civil rights movement.
After a walking lecture provided by Dr. Upton in downtown Selma, we stopped by Brown Chapel African Methodist Episcopal (A.M.E.) (1869).The church was the starting point of the protest march against discriminatory voter registration procedures, which resulted in massive disenfranchisement of African American voters. The protest march was to start in Selma, and go all the way to the state capital of Montgomery. On March 7th, 1965 these protestors were met by local police enforcement with tear gas, billy clubs, dogs, and mounted horsemen who beat them mercilessly in front of national media. That particular Sunday became to be known as “Bloody Sunday”, and drew national and international attention to the plight of African Americans in the south. Blacks exercised their right to vote during reconstruction, however in the early part of the twentieth century, state officials saw to it that they were systematically purged from the state and local voter rolls. Practices such as severely limited hours for voter registration, poll taxes, and intense literacy requirements dropped the number of eligible black voters from some 164,000 immediately after reconstruction to a mere 3000 in 1965. In the single month following the passage of the civil rights act of 1965, more African American voters registered to vote within the state of Alabama than did so in the previous sixty-four years.
Photo of the exterior of the Brown Chapel AME Church in Selma.
Photo of the interior of the Brown Chapel AME Church in Selma.
Our last stop of the day in Selma was at Live Oaks Cemetery, where we met a self described historian and preservationist by the name of Patricia Goodwin. The cemetery was dedicated in 1829, and provides the final resting place for many confederate solders, and at least one large confederate memorial is present. Ms. Goodwin told us of difficulties that she experienced with her efforts to place a memorial to Nathan Bedford Forrest within the city of Selma, and she viewed the predominately African American city council as being the major detractors of her efforts. For half an hour the group listened to her descriptions of the events that led up to the memorial’s placement within the cemetery, but it became clear that her central role in the fundraising and the construction of the memorial made the events that she experienced incredibly personal. When she was challenged on some of the basics regarding the life of Nathan Bedford Forrest, such as his involvement with the formation of the Ku Klux Klan, and the possibility that he served as the first Grand Wizard of the group, she denied any involvement that he had with the Klan. When asked about a particular inscription on the memorial that refers to him as being a “wizard in the saddle”, Ms. Goodwin stated that that term was used by one of his former foes, out of respect for Forrest’s military prowess. Walking under live oaks draped with large tufts of dangling spanish moss I was struck that despite the end of the civil war some one hundred and forty four years ago, many of the wounds are still festering.
Mrs. Goodwin in front of the Nathan Bedford Forrest Memorial.
Photo: The Alonzo Herndon Home
Herndon first made his money through being a barber, and slowly, through hard work, started to own a series of barbershops throughout the southeast. His most famous location was in downtown Atlanta on Peachtree, where he employed some twenty-six African American barbers to cut the hair of his powerful white clientele. The wealth that he earned through his establishment went back into the black community, and assisted him in amassing prime real estate locations in the south, and also providing the capital necessary to start Atlanta Life insurance.
Our tour then took us through the educational institutions that were established to teach the young minds of the rising black middle class. Clark Atlanta University, Spelman College, and Morehouse College were founded to address the necessity of providing excellent post secondary education to African Americans, so that those students would become the next generation of community, political and business leaders. Remember at the time of their respective founding, no black students were allowed to attend post secondary educational institutions in the south.
Photo: Martin Luther King Jr. statue at Morehouse College.
Photo: Sisters Chapel at Spelman College.
We also had a brief visit to Booker T. Washington High School, where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. went to high school as a young man. Again, because of racial segregation, King had to travel miles to attend this all African American high school, even though there were numerous white high schools that were much closer to where he lived.
Photo of "Lifting The Veil" at Booker T. Washington High School. ( A copy of statue of the original statue is at Tuskegee University.)
We then departed Atlanta for Tuskegee, home of the famous Tuskegee Airmen, and the Tuskegee Institute founded by Booker T. Washington (now Tuskegee University).
Photo of Tuskegee Town Square.
We then walked the grounds of Tuskegee University, including the George Washington Carver Museum. The history of the University is fascinating. Lewis Adams, who recognized that while slavery had been abolished by the emancipation proclamation acts of 1862 and 1863, noted that freed slaves often possessed little formal education or marketable skills to support themselves or their families. Adam’s strong lobbying of the State of Alabama’s democratic party resulted in the establishment of the Institute in 1881, and he hired the young Booker T. Washington to serve as the first president of the school. The school proved to be a critical destination for many African Americans, as the school not only provided formal education, but also real world, “hands on” experience. Many of the buildings on the grounds were designed by the first African American architect in the United States, Robert Taylor, who had graduated from MIT in 1892, and the labor for the construction came from the Institute’s student body.
Photo of student laborers constructing a building at the Tuskegee Institute.
After a long, and full day, we headed to our next destination, Montgomery Alabama.
As we gathered for lunch at the Hampton Inn and Suites in downtown Atlanta, Dr. Dell Upton gave a wonderfully insightful lecture on memorials and the act of commemoration as a foundation to what we were about to experience over the next four days. Of particular interest was his observation that memorials often reflect the social, cultural and historical perspective not of the time that they were supposed to be marking, but rather of the current conditions of when they were actually being established. Thus memorials to the civil rights era that were constructed in the late twentieth century reflect the ideals and perspectives of the 1980’s and 1990’s that were interpretations of the civil rights movement of the 1950’s and 1960’s. Applied on a broader level, Upton’s observation explains a great deal why sites like the World Trade Center Memorial in New York City, or the Memorial to Flight 93 in Shanksville, Pennsylvania are still so hotly contested, and their cultural meanings still uncertain.
Professor Upton also noted in his lecture how the traditional forms of memorialization seem to be strangely out of place for the civil rights movement. In a systematic approach, Upton showed numerous examples of traditional memorial statuary, and revealed their reliance upon metaphors of military prowess and conquest for their meaning. The seated equestrian, the heroic lone figure, the group action pose— all find their respective origins in military conflict. Dr. Upton wondered just how appropriate such visual metaphors were for a movement that practiced nonviolence, and saw great success in mundane, yet critical actions such as voter registration, community organization and peaceful acts of civil disobedience.
Photo: Dell Upton giving his introductory lecture.
After the lecture and a substantial lunch we headed off to Auburn Avenue, which was and remains a center of black middle class life and culture. The act of racial segregation, combined with discriminatory business laws that intentionally restricted access to capital for African Americans, made Auburn Avenue a central node for the black middle class. It was here that Atlanta Life was based, an insurance company established by Alonzo Herndon in 1905 to provide African Americans with financial tools and security similar to those enjoyed by their white middle class counterparts. Professor Upton showed members of the study tour the numerous and complex spatial interrelationships that black businesses utilized before the civil rights movement to ensure that monies generated by black owned businesses would stay within the African American community, and how black reinvestment into Auburn Avenue was an absolute necessity given the overtly hostile attitudes and discriminatory practices by whites towards black owned businesses.

Photos: Atlanta Life then and now.
Auburn Avenue was also the birthplace and the final resting place of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. We toured the home where he was born, and noted how, on that particular section of Auburn Avenue, there were a range of housing stock that encompassed the urban poor through to the wealthy. Our docent for the tour of Dr. King’s birthplace told the story that when Martin Luther King Jr. was a child, he saw first hand the wide financial disparity experienced by African Americans on this very street. On one side, small, two room, “shotgun homes” were the dominant housing stock, while on the other side of the street,large mansions were the norm. This inequitable relationship within the African American community stayed with Dr. King, and was a constant reminder of not only how far African Americans had come, but also how far was still left to go.
Photo: Dr. King's Birthplace in Atlanta.
Photo: Small, shotgun homes on Auburn Ave.
Photo: The upscale homes just across the street from King's birthplace.
Photo: The tombs for Martin Luther King Jr. and his wife, Coretta Scott King.
Civil Rights Memorials and African-American Urban Landscapes in the Twentieth Century South.
October 8-12, 2009.
By Martin J. Holland
This is the first of three accounts by SAH fellowship recipients discussing the recent SAH study tour that examined civil rights memorials in the South. For those of you interested in a day by day, moment by moment account of what we saw, I would strongly suggest that you subscribe to Twitter, and sign up to get tweets from the SAH_Study_Tour which will not only provide you with what occurred from October 8-12, 2009, but with any luck, all future SAH study tours as well. It is a great way to feel part of a Society of Architectural Historians tour, even if you are unable to attend.