Scraping the sky

Why do we reach for the clouds?

By Jennifer Pfaff

The designs of the country's first tall buildings, and the laws that sprouted in cities nationwide to govern those structures, reacted to the fears. Tall buildings, as they rose into the air, often were required to decrease in size, with upper tiers substantially smaller than the tower's base.

In time, the fears receded and attitudes changed, much to Greenstreet's relief.

I love to see cranes on the skyline," he said. "They say economy, faith in the future."

These dramatic structures have come to hold a prominent place in the architectural world, transforming downtowns, punctuating skylines and challenging communities to define their visual identity.

Greenstreet has ample reason to be pleased as he looks out at Milwaukee's downtown these days. The city boasts the state's tallest building, the 40-story US Bank structure. Milwaukee also has two new skyscrapers taking shape on the horizon: the University Club Tower and Kilbourn Tower.

Rising 458 feet above the city, the University Club Tower will be the second largest tower in the state when completed, said John Rodell, vice president of Milwaukee builder J.H. Findorff and Son Inc.

Downtown Milwaukee

"Towers like the two on the lakefront have an enormous symbolic impact," he said. "It sends a message to the people in the city and beyond that people are willing to invest in Milwaukee, that the city is desirable."

And although, in Greenstreet's words, architects salivate at the opportunity to design high-rise buildings, the structures must be backed by real cash to come to fruition.

The University Club Tower is the brainchild of University Club Tower LLC, four local investors who saw in Milwaukee a city ripe for high-end, high-rise living. Their project is ambitious and represents an investment in the community that proves Milwaukee is a thriving metropolis, Rodell said.

"In Wisconsin, land isn't quite the premium here as it is in other cities, so you don't have a lot of taller buildings," he said. "To go to 38 stories is remarkable."

Architect Thomas Gordon Smith, professor of architecture at the University of Notre Dame, says the age-old concept of patronage is alive and well in the United States.

Corporations invest in building tall office spaces, seeking to create a prominent visual image in a community, to further their reputation as successful businesses.

But tall buildings spawn from a variety of societal values flowing through the will of patrons.

Churches today can't rival skyscrapers or high rises in height, but verticality has become an integral part of religious architectural vocabulary, said Smith, who has built churches, monasteries and seminaries throughout the country.

Milwaukee’s lakefront

Spires and steeples, statues and bell towers, tall elements have come to speak the very beliefs preached from church pulpits. Ascending skyward, they remind the viewer to think of higher powers; they are grand designs attempting to illuminate the majesty of God and heaven here on earth.

And while commercial and residential buildings, with the capability of netting income for investors, soar taller and taller, the lesser height of religious tall elements is not necessarily diminished, he said.

"It's really amazing," Smith said. "If you look at the south side of Milwaukee, the industrial buildings haven't grown, so it's still quite a sight, looking out at those spires. … Even if I was building a church in a downtown amid skyscrapers, I'd still want to have a spire. I'd still want to keep a vertical element. The spire is inspirational."

Religious architectural traditions have begun to unravel since World War II, challenged by a general de-emphasizing of the importance of the religious building itself and strong desires to save money, he said.

More and more new churches are going for auditorium-like settings, or spaces that function religiously on weekends and secularly at other times. Modernism has gained a hold where tradition once ruled.

"Big-box churches with auditoriums — it's a different aesthetic," Smith said. "To me it's like a big-box store like Wal-Mart. The message is volume, not to express spirituality."

For much of history, religious buildings were the heart of a community, rising above the shops and houses below.

Milwaukee city hall

"It was put into priority, that the temple or church should be prominent," Smith said. "We have tended since the second world war to not invest as our ancestors did."

But a revival in traditional styles is swelling, and patrons are beginning to appear, ready to pay for the costly but less-practical elements that point to God.

"It's really a matter of putting your money where your heart is," Smith said. "I certainly hope we come to a point when church patrons see vertical volume as contributing to their spiritual life, as practicing their religion with a sense of aspiration."

The statement made by towers and steeples isn't always the message a city wants to be identified with, however.

In Madison, it's a dome that has come to characterize the city, marking it the home of the state's capital.

Both city and state law discourage tall structures within a mile of the edifice, restricting the altitude of those buildings to fall below the Capitol's dome. It was a decision made years ago to protect the commitment to government as well as to heighten the dramatic impact of having a city on a hill, explained Michael Waidelich, principal planner for Madison's Department of Planning and Development.

"It's a feeling that is created," he said. "It was pleasing and a community value. It says 'you're home,' or 'you're in Madison,' as you drive in and see the Capitol. It is the reason the city is here, in a sense. It's symbolically neat to see it, in my opinion."

Madison's skyline Photos courtesy of Milwaukee Department of City Development

That atmosphere created by the dome atop the hill has been challenged in recent years, as demand for tall buildings has increased. The effect is one that Waidelich isn't entirely pleased with.

As buildings have been erected down the hill, developers have built as tall as possible.

"What's happening is that Madison's skyline is becoming a lot less engaging," he said. "We're getting a plateau effect. The impression people are getting is that it is a flat city, rather than a city on the hill."

Waidelich hopes that future developments can be persuaded of the benefits of diversifying the skyline by building at a variety of heights or by incorporating some tall and some short elements within a single project.

Fashioning an interesting skyline that stays in keeping with the city's values will take commitment not just from developers but from the city fathers as well.

"There is supposed to be a falling off down to the lake," Waidelich said. "But because the planned-unit development zoning allows you to override these regulations, what we're getting in areas where
the zoning says eight stories is 15-story buildings"

Protecting and enforcing the spirit behind the "city on a hill" regulations will be keys in keeping Madison's identity — and in some ways, the entire state's — in place, architects like Smith and UW-Milwaukee professor Harvey Rabinowitz agree.

"If you want to believe in the importance of government, that's the right thing to do," Rabinowitz said.