A Proper Memorial

Our government has a foreign policy, a domestic policy and (I suppose) a garbage disposal policy; but it lacks an architectural policy. This lack is generally unnoticed because our key public buildings were handed to us as heirlooms, and they require nothing but preservation. The destruction of the Twin Towers, however, revealed a need for creative thinking. Long before the dust had settled the cry went up: We must have a memorial! One would have supposed that every notable designer in the land would have rushed to his drawing board in response to this request: but no. Instead, Gov. Pataki formed a Corporation. And after much delay and hesitation it produced a design that is treated with loathing and contempt by the people who are most interested in the project: the relatives of those who died in the Towers. The Corporation’s design calls for pools of water that will be surrounded by subterranean passageways; and the names of the dead would be scattered randomly in the underground space. "It is all wrong in its symbolism," said Rosaleen Tallon, whose firefighter brother was killed at the trade center. "I look up to the sky to remember him. I will never go down." (Quoted in the NY Post; 27 February, 2006) Ms. Tallon may not have a degree in architectural design, but her instincts are sound. In the thousands of years that the living have memorialized the dead by means of piled stones and cast metal, no one thought to make a trench for that purpose. Until, that is, Maya Lin gave us the Viet Nam memorial. That was a big “success”, and a bad precedent; one that has prevented our designers from considering the traditional approach, which emphasizes verticality. Fate may have decreed that the Corporation’s design will be thrust upon New York City. But there is hope that the plan will be revised or scrapped or simply redone in the future. An alternative plan is shown in the illustration above. It was proposed shortly after 9/11 by Henry Reed, a veteran architectural critic. Reed proposed a monumental column inspired by precedents dating back to ancient times. The beauty of the thing is evident: it stands tall and proud, conveying a dignified, almost defiant repose. It could be seen from a distance, yet it takes up very little ground. The land once occupied by Nelson Rockefeller’s boondogle could become a neighborhood once again, with the monument at its center giving it a distinct character, and without expressing a burdensome grief that is appropriate for our generation, but which future generations will certainly not feel. Reed’s proposal reminds us of other monuments and parks of the city. The rendering shows (as best it can) a golden winged figure atop the column, bearing wreaths for the dead. This figure and its base could be enriched with the finest materials and workmanship. The footprints of the Towers could be preserved by posts or stones set in the adjacent ground. There would be ample space to inscribe the names of the dead. And there would be ample space for trees and grass that are a proper setting for such a work. The relentless bureaucracy set up by Gov. Pataki may well impose its plan upon us. But the idea put forth here should not be cast aside or forgotten. Tragedies lie in our future. Along with other plans for dealing with the aftermath of destruction there should be a file labeled: Memorials. Henry Reed’s plan should be there.