As a homeless kid in
Depression Detroit (1930-45, when I joined the Navy as an aviation
electronics mate), architectural education was shamefully neglected
in Catholic grade school and a B.A. in philosophy at the Jesuit
University of Detroit. In graduate school I took an interdisciplinary
Ph.D in American Studies, specializing in literature but with one
prelim in American art and architecture. So when I read Nicholas
Pevsner’pioneer book on modern architecture in graduate school, I
was pleasantly surprised to learn that the German Walter Gropius
founded an art school in 1919 to bring good design to the working
classes.
Our first married
house in 1954 was a National Home prefab (Lafayette, Indiana)
designed by Charles Goodman, a marvelous Cape Cod built on what had
been the fall before a corn field. $4000, $400 down, $40 a month!
(Gropius’s prefab General Panel Corporation had been a total flop
which I will explain in due course.) We’d still be there had I not
won a Ford Grant in New York City in 1954-55 to mingle with TV brass
(and especially with my first academic hero, Marshall McLuhan, whose
first book had just published his popular culture essays I had
already read in “Commonweal” the lay Catholic weekly— was a
visiting professor at TC, Columbia.)
I had already invented a monthly
column for “The English Journal” making it easier for high school
teachers to assign outstanding TV programs for class discussion. Bill
Boutwell asked me to become the radio TV editor of “Scholastic
Teacher” which I did for six years until an appointment as the
first director of the Institute of American Studies at Honolulu new
East-West Center in 1961 made contacts with continental media
impractical.
My Ford year was
intellectually stimulating, but I was puzzled by a paradox: my
humanities peers thought my stooping to conquer media was degrading.
For example, my doctoral committee rejected my proposal to write a
dissertation on Marshall McLuhan! But Pat Weaver, the creative head
of NBC TV spent two hours with me, reacting to my innovative
educational program, putting me in touch with all the relevant NBC
personnel.
When I read in the
New York Times that there would be an educational convention in D.C. that weekend, I invited myself! As I entered the convention HQ I saw
Ralph Bunche speaking with great intensity with a man I knew not. As
the pushy Julien Sorel of East Lansing, Michigan, I orated “I’m
Pat Hazard and I’m on a Ford grant to improve high school
students responses to the Newer Media.” The anonymous one replied,
“Well, how’s it going?) “Lousey,” I replied, explaining how
Pat Weaver’s secretary was getting more and more unfriendly the
more I called for an interview.
Mr. Anon
identified himself, ”Well I’m the publisher of “Time” and I’m
on the board of the Ford Foundation that gave your grant, and I like
what you’re doing. Would an office in “Time” help?” “
GULP!” He handed me his card and told me to call Monday. I called
Weaver’s office from “Time”, and his secretary was suddenly
very, very amicable! A half hour later I was in Pat’s office,
wondering if he always received guests on a bongo board! I was
treated like an ambassador at “Time”. He sent me around the
country to better understand their national nature. One exciting
afternoon I and the son of the founder of “Der Spiegel”
(Germany’s “Time”) watched the main editor and his photography
chief plan the next issue of “Life”!
Not all the
Humanists were media snobs. At the Freshman English teachers annual
convention in May I gave a media plea, “Liberace and the Future of
Cultural Criticism”. Three tough looking cookies asked after my
lecture if I’d like to give that spiel in their blue collar
commuter college, Trenton State?! I said yes, hoping it would give me
time enough to finish my dissertation on John Fiske, a popularizer of
Herbert Spencer in America.(I finished it, thinking all the time I
was letting Marshall down.) It actually turned out all right—Penn
gave me a two year Carnegie Post Doctoral grant to create the first
two semester course on “Mass Culture” in America .I was being to
fear that all my good luck would run out!
Not yet, TV Guide
publisher Walter Annenberg gave Penn 2 million dollars to found a
graduate school of communication at Penn. And, faute de mieux, I
became the university’s gofer: to travel around the USA telling
media brass and graduate J school deans how different and good we
were going to become! I convinced the brass that the Philly boy who
first turned me on to media studies, one Gilbert Seldes, “The Seven
Lively Arts” (1924), should be the first dean! He was, and I became
his gofer, a unique experience!
I taught media
history at the new Annenberg School of Communication! Meanwhile, my
commitment to architecture became bigger and bigger, I MC’ed a TV
series on it at Walter Annenberg’s TV station. The most memorable
hour was devoted to Louie Kahn’s maquette for his new Biological
Center in La Jolla, CA. In 1959 we had bought an almost new (1956)
Kahn in Greenbelt Knoll an experiment in racial integration in North
East Philadelphia. (We had only been able to buy it because the wife
of the first owner didn’t feel comfortable with all those blacks!)
By the way, we had lived for three years in Levittown. The great
sociologist Herbert J. Gans who wrote the classic book on the
positive values of “The Levittowners” while most humanist snobs
mocked the genre. He came to Penn the same year I did, and I learned
a lot about mass housing from him. I sadly sold “My Kahn” in
2009, to buy a flat in a 1782 villa in Weimar. Fifty years in a Kahn
is a blessing. And 18th
century German architecture can be regal!
So as the years
passed, I saw all our greats’ works, Frank Lloyd Wright, Louie
Sullivan, Kahn,the Saarinens, Albert Kahn ,Bertrand Goldberg, and
Timothy Pflueger.I spent 30 years teaching English, followed by
thirty years roaming the world to comment on it in alternative
journalism. I was ready for Weimar! In 1999 it was the Cultural
Capital of Europe, so I was finally ready to be thrilled. It has on
the contrary been the greatest disappointment of my cultural life.
See if you agree with me why?
Gropius had a great
heart, but not much follow through. And he wasn’t much of an
architect. He complained in letters to his mother that “I can’t
draw! I can’t draw!” I was puzzled about his diffidence until I
visited the great Berlin museum named after his great uncle, Martin
Gropius. He was the second most respected premodern Berlin architect.
Gropius covered his fears by hiring a silent partner, Adolf Meyer.
Further the
wastefulness of World War I, where he was a cavalry officer, had
made him a leftie—whose Denkmal for the victims of the Kapp Putsch
(1923) in the Weimar Cemetary haunted him because the Weimar
legislature was drifting inexorably rightist. They bounced the
Bauhaus in 1924. Dessau, a more industrial city where Junker Aviation
dominated welcomed him. At first they “flourished” until you
realize there was no architecture course until 1927. He was being
hassled by a headline hunting journalist for “double dipping”,
i.e. taking his director’s salary as well as adviser’s pay for
working on the Törten worker’s suburb. And in 1928 he quit in a
huff and suddenly went to Berlin to build Siemenstadt!
That suddenness was
reckless enough, but he made the Swiss Communist Hannes Meyer
director. That was Bauhaus suicide. When Mies van der Rohe became the
third director, he rented an abandoned telephone factory and fired
all the Communist students! That was not enough because he too was a
leftie. His first work (1926) was a Denkmal for the founders of the
German Communist Party, Karl Liebknecht and Rosa Luxembourg! Alfred
Rosenberg, Hitler’s propaganda chief, grilled him about that
aberration. He became a Nice Nazi, trying unsuccessfully until 1938
to get commissions from Hitler’s architect. No go! Until Gropius
got him a commission for a millionaire’s summer home in
Yellowstone, he was just spinning wheels in Germany.
Here is where
serendipity helped me understand Mies. The Chicago Jew Bertrand
Goldberg was in the last 1933 Bauhaus class. When that folded, he
became Mies’s Azubi in Berlin until he fled to Paris to avoid
Hitler. In 1970, as I was visiting my mother in Detroit from
Philadelphia, I stopped in Chicago to take part in the their Film
Festival. (I had been advising TV tycoon Charles Benton on what NBC
TV he should buy for rental in the schools.) At a film festival
afterparty I buttonholed Goldberg by teasing him I was quitting
teaching to sell dope at his Marina City complex-- so I could afford
to live there. Luckily he got my joke, and invited me to an
architects visit the next day to his new Women’s Hospital for
Northwestern University. It was a pivotal day in my life.
He became my most
influential mentor (Studs Terkel was the other).From then on, every
pitstop en route to Detroit was a spontaneous Goldberg lecture on the
streets of Chicago. The first time I walked his dogs as he explicated
his Chicago. Never in architectural history was canine urination so
intellectually stimulating.
Our last meeting in
1895 I’ll never forget. I was showing a sweet social worker from
Leipzig her first USA visit. Bertrand picked us up in his sports car
and whisked us to his private club, high in a skyscraper overlooking
his greatest work, Marina City. We were in a solemn mood because the
day before Timothy Dwight had blown up the Federal Building in
Oklahoma City. Bert was sad that Gropius had abandoned his blue
collar idealism .He insisted that he never had.
Then is when we
talked so frankly about Mies’s Nice Nazi reputation in the 1930’s.
Goldberg is the greatest architect by far to come out of the Bauhaus,
including the overpraised Mies. It is a scandal that Goldberg has
never had an exhibition there! My hunch is that his social idealism
embarrasses the Baushustling Triad (Weimar, Dessau, Berlin) because
they can’t be bothered with Pius’s blue collar ideals as they
build Upper Middleclass Tourism--and search for legislative grants!
My increasingly
impatient frustration over their refusal to discuss our disagreements
honestly and honorably has been very upsetting. Their pathetically
anti-intellectual reaction has been to drop me from their press
lists. A weasel tactic that would never be employed by American
scholars. If Mies diminished his seriousness by his becoming a Nice
Nazi, I regard this fascist evasion of serious thinking as Nasty
Nazism! I was ready to abandon this nondiscourse until three months
ago.
Thomas Hass, a
retired chemist from Munich, daily reads the international press with
me at the Anna Amalia student center. He excitedly discovered an
essay in “Die Welt” by a well-regarded journalist, Dr. Dankwart
Gutratsch. (He has been honored for his journalism on Denkmals.) But
in the essay that renewed my faith in German seriousness about the
Bauhaus, he argues, for example, that Modern German architecture
ended in 1918—the year before the Bauhaus began!
He argues
convincingly that their obsession with flat roofs, concrete walls and
excessive glass made energy wasting a major failure demanding
correction. How he proposes to achieve this correction of failed
Modernoid (my neologism) by 1919, the 100th
anniversary is the subject of my next essay. (He mocks their 90th
and other irregular celebration times.) Those false anniversaries
turn out to be motivated by tourism and fund raising for bigger,
better museums! How glad I am that I didn’t give up the critical
debate over Bauhaus ideals before stumbling on Guratsch’s brilliant
essay.