The Rescue and Renaissance of Lafayette Square

Journal of the

White house

historical Association

number 13

The Kennedy

WhiTe house

Part OnerecollecTions

White House

HISTORY

The following article was originally published in White House History #13, 2004.

ISSN: 0748-8114. C Copyright 2004 by the White House Historical Association. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced without the prior written permission of the

White House Historical Association.

The views presented by the authors are theirs and do notnecessarily reflect the position or policy of the

White House Historical Association.

J O H N C A R L W A R N e C K e

y involvement in Lafayette Square*

during the Kennedy administration came about in March1962 by pure chance and coincidence. I was in Washingtonfor the first time since the late 1950s. My architecturalprojects in Asia, Hawaii, and California, coupled with my1960 divorce from Grace Cushing, my wife and mother ofmy four children, had kept me more than busy in the FarWest. I was in Washington to serve on two design juries,the Reynolds Aluminum Award for architecture on Mondayand Tuesday, March 12 and 13, and following that, a two-day jury for the Justice Department to determine the designof a federal penitentiary in Georgia.

On March 14, my old friend and fraternity brother, PaulFay Jr., who was undersecretary of the navy, asked me if I wouldn’t like to go over to the White House and say helloto the president. I was once a friend of Jack Kennedy andhad seen him on two or three occasions since our firstmeeting during the western part of his campaign. I was notnearly as close a friend to him as Paul Fay was. The “RedHead,” as Fay was known, told me that he had been askedby the president to head up a White House reception forWorld War II PT-boat heroes. He and Jack were both PT-boat captains in the war. Fay told me he was organizing theevent, and although I wasn’t a PT-boat hero, he could workme in. But he warned me that if pictures were taken, Ishould fade back toward the wall so I would not be con-fused with a hero. The Red Head also said he was bringing

his wife Anita, and another friend of the president, JaneWheeler, to accompany us. I showed up at the WhiteHouse at the appointed hour looking forward to a greatevening.

The president was in the Oval Office meeting first withthe heroes. I was shuffled off to the dining room to waitwith all the women guests. So there I am with the wivesand friends of the PT-boat heroes, and the president isdown there in the Oval Office reminiscing about the waryears. Finally Jack leads the pack into the dining room. Helooks around the room and sees women everywhere, thenhe looked straight at me. “Rose Bowl,” he said, “What inthe hell are you doing here?” Jack remembered the nameFay had stuck me with after Stanford University’s 1940undefeated Rose Bowl football season. JFK had picked upon it, and now, 20 years later, he was still calling me RoseBowl.1

In response to his question what was I doing there, Isaid, “I’m on a jury, an architectural jury for your brotherfor the Department of Justice.” I wasn’t really working forBobby Kennedy at all but for the department itself. Inoticed, however, that Kennedy did an uptake on thatremark. I began to see that he knew me only as a formerfootball player and friend of Paul Fay, not as an architect.

The next night, Thursday, March 15, with JacquelineKennedy away in India, Jack asked the Red Head andAnita to a small dinner in the family living quartersupstairs at the White House. By that time he had asked Faywhat Rose Bowl meant when he said he was on an archi-tectural jury for Bobby. Fay told him, “Well, didn’t youknow, Warnecke has become very well known as an archi-tect in America?” Actually, he did not.

The Rescue and Renaissance of

Lafayette Square

M

John Carl Warnecke, FAIA, and Jacqueline Kennedy

review the model for the project on Lafayette Square,

October 17, 1962.

national archives

* I should explain my use of Lafayette Square. The official name for the area in front of the White House is in fact Lafayette Park. However, as my essay will show, myapproach to it included not only the landscaped green area in the middle but the four faces of architecture all around. With its architecture considered, it is a square inevery sense, an urban architectural square. It is the square we preserved and expanded upon, architecture and landscape combined.

32 WHITe HOUSe HISTORY (Number 13)

After four days of architectural jury duty, I went outthat last evening in town with Jane Wheeler. We stayed upquite late, and when I came back to the hotel, I asked theoperator to turn my phone off—no calls whatsoever—Iwanted to sleep. When I woke up late the next morning, Iphoned and asked the operator if I had any messages. Shesaid there was one: the president of the United States hadphoned, and would I phone him back?

And so, with my mouth still dry from the night before,I returned the call. evelyn Lincoln, secretary to the presi-dent, answered the phone. She said yes, the presidentwants to talk to you. The next thing I know I am talking tothe president. He was very polite; he wanted to knowwhen I was returning to San Francisco. I said I was leav-ing Washington that day. He said he didn’t want to intrudeon my plans, but he had an architectural problem involv-ing design proposals for Lafayette Park, which, I seem torecall, we always called in those days “Lafayette Square.”

Would it be convenient for me to stay in town a fewdays and look into this situation for him? He wanted myopinion on the architecture of this project. I naturally saidyes. What else can you say to a friend and particularly tothe president? He asked me if I would get back to him onwhat I thought and any advice I could give him. I was tofind Bill Walton. “I will have Walton contact you,” hesaid. “Walton will fill you in and show you what the prob-lem is.”

So I met with Bill Walton, who informed me that hewas a personal friend of the president who, among otherthings, helped the president and first lady on matters relat-ed to art and architecture. After my lunch, Walton met mefor a walk around the park. “Don’t loiter,” he said, “Walkfast. If the press sees me with you—well this LafayettePark matter is somewhat of a public issue. So I don’t wantto look like—what I’m doing here with you. They willwant a story. Let’s look. I will show you the square.”

As we walked around the square, Walton told me thestory of how President and Mrs. Kennedy were uncom-fortable with the design for new buildings that were aboutto replace the old run-down townhouses, once elegant res-idences, that stood along the outer parameter of the space.The president had been trying to get to the bottom of theproblem by coming up with what he and the first ladyconsidered an appropriate historic style of architecture forthe new two large buildings that were to be built directlyon the square.

After walking the park and square, we went over to the

General Services Administration (GSA) to see what wecould see. At that time, Len Hunter was head of the archi-tectural design division. I knew Hunter well because I hadworked with him in 1956 when I was a member of a teamof architects in a joint venture designing a new federaloffice and court building in San Francisco. Hunter showedme the designs for the new buildings on the park that thearchitects were in the process of developing in workingdrawings.

They were drawings for buildings of monumental scaleprepared by the Boston firms of Shepley, Bulfinch,Richardson, and Abbott, and Perry, Shaw, Hepburn, andDean. Both were distinguished architectural practices, thefirst the heirs of Henry Hobson Richardson and the secondthe restorers for John D. Rockefeller Jr. of ColonialWilliamsburg in Virginia. The architects were creatingbuilding designs in the cold Modern style, which was thenwell established and dominant on the architectural scene.Len Hunter told me that these plans and elevations werefait accompli, for they had been approved and had gonethrough the Commission of Fine Arts approval process.He informed me that before long GSA would be demolish-ing the old historic houses and other buildings on thesquare.

I had no prior knowledge of this project, nor that the president was so concerned with architecture. But I didunderstand his hesitation about this. Unknown to the pres-ident, it was the same sort of design challenge I hadundertaken successfully in several other places of histori-cal significance, such as the heart of the campus of theUniversity of California at Berkeley, where my father andArthur Brown Jr. had delivered Beaux Arts renditions ofneoclassical architecture, and in the center of StanfordUniversity, with its distinctive Romanesque buildings. Norwas it so different from the design problem I faced for anew state capitol for Hawaii, located in the heart of oldHonolulu, in the palm-forested grounds of sacred IolaniPalace. The same circumstances shaped my master planfor the state capitol of California at Sacramento.

By this time in my career, it had become second natureto me to sense those things that bothered my clients, andin the case of President Kennedy, it was obvious he didnot want any new buildings in Lafayette Park to preemptthe White House, which stood grandly on its lawns and inits groves at the south end. The solution was clear enough: to preserve the historic character of the square. Thus if thepresident and first lady wanted to save the old historic

The Rescue and Renaissance of Lafayette Square 33

houses and the White House, then it would be necessary topreserve the 19th-century character of the whole square.Key to this was preserving the old townhouses, whichwere not in the program and scope of the project and werenot included in the congressional budget. They now stoodin the shadows of the wrecking ball. By the end of mymeeting with GSA, I knew exactly what I wanted to say toJohn F. Kennedy.

After leaving GSA, I called Mrs. Lincoln, telling her Iwas ready to talk to the president on my observationsabout Lafayette Park. She said, “Will 11 o’clock Mondaybe all right?” I said fine. On Sunday I decided just how Imight best present my concept to the president. He was notan architect; I had to get my message across in such a way

that he would grasp what I meant. First thing next morningI was at the American Institute of Architects library atOctagon House, pulling down books with illustrations ofsquares all over the world, english squares, Americansquares, Italian squares, monumental squares, and residen-tial squares. The White House faced north on a historicalresidential square, surrounding Lafayette Park. Although Iknew what I wanted to say, I needed something visual, so Itook the books with me. JFK had asked me for my adviceand I was now prepared to give it.

I went to Mrs. Lincoln’s cubicle office on Monday with my armload of books. She said, “You’re all set to goto the president’s office at 11 o’clock.” I responded, “I

don’t want to go there—not to the Oval Office (as it wasonly then beginning to be called). I don’t want to get stuckin front of a large desk. I want to meet in a room like—well, I understand the Cabinet Room has a big table in it. Iwant to spread these books out on a table.” So she led meinto the Cabinet Room. I opened the books—to show pic-tures—all along the cabinet table opposite to where thepresident would sit. Before him would be nothing but pictures of famous squares.

A few minutes after 11:00 a.m., in came the presidentwith Bill Walton, Arthur Schlesinger Jr., and several otherclose personal advisers. Mrs. Kennedy, who I would laterlearn was as concerned about the square as JFK, was stillaway on her trip to India. I asked the president to walk

with me around the cabinet table and see the pictures of famous squares in england, France, and Italy. As wewalked, I told him about the contrasting types of squares—monumental and residential. The monumental square iscomposed of large-scale structures presenting a continuousfacade expressing might and grandeur of government orchurch. We saw San Marco in Venice, St. Peter’s in Rome,

President John F. Kennedy with Bill Walton, his friend and

adviser on matters of art, chooses a location for a painting

to be hung in the Oval Office, 1961.c

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and Place de la Concorde and Place Vendôme in Paris.Next I showed him plans from the City Beautiful schemefor Washington devised by the McMillan Commission in1901. The great Beaux Arts architect Cass Gilbert had pro-posed a new design for Lafayette Park—a monumentalsquare—with large new neoclassical buildings housingimportant governmental departments of the executivebranch. This idea, had it been carried out, would havebeen somewhat like the Federal Triangle, entirely faced in Renaissance-type neoclassicism. Small portions ofGilbert’s plan were completed and can be seen today—theTreasury Annex on the corner of Pennsylvania Avenue andMadison Place, and the Chamber of Commerce Buildingon H Street. JFK appeared very aware of these.

We then turned to books and photographs of residen-tial squares. These were composed of small-scale residen-tial structures with continuous or unbroken facades facinga central open area. Squares of this type were GrosvenorSquare, Belgrave Square, and Bedford Square in Londonand St. Ignacio Square in Rome. I described the few his-toric residential squares in America: Beacon Hill inBoston, Washington Square in New York, Jackson Square in New Orleans, and the old Plaza of Santa Fe.Fortunately I had visited the better examples just a fewyears earlier, when in the summer of 1959 my wife GraceCushing, my older son John, and I had taken a two-monthtour of europe, starting in Greece and ending in england.I would later learn that some of the places were veryfamiliar to the president. While attending Harvard, Jack

had made a similar summer tour with his classmateLeMoyne Billings, and he remembered the historic placesmost of all. Having resided in London while his fatherwas American ambassador to Great Britain gave himexposure to London’s squares. He fully understood what Iwas saying and its meaning for Lafayette Square.

I was looking at Lafayette Square as a whole, not onlyGSA’s program for two very large buildings or the restric-tions that governed the designs of the Boston architects. Iwas starting over, and I was very interested in the oldtownhouses and buildings that still faced the park. Theywere scheduled for demolition, stood empty and forlorn.Saving these buildings, which were on the east and westsides of the park, was to me the obvious and only way the19th-century history of the park could be preserved. So Iproposed that they be retained and restored.

To do the design of the square right, one had to go allthe way: make it either residential or monumental, oneway or the other. The difference lay in scale; the basicproblem that the Boston architects were presenting to thepresident was a compromise on the west or Jackson Placeside of the square, with a long cold modern building in thecenter stretching between two historic residences (one,Decatur House, still a private home) at each end. OnMadison Place, on the east, none of the older historicbuildings, such as the Tayloe House and the Cutts orDolley Madison House, were to be saved. They were to bereplaced by a Modern-style courts building.

I told the president that if he wanted to save the 19th-

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A bird’s-eye view of the Vatican

and St. Peter’s Church in Rome, c. 1883.

Place de la Concorde

in Paris, c. 1900.


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Washington Square, New York

City, c. 1900–1920.

Louisburg Square in the Beacon Hill

section of Boston, c. 1870–1900.

In the McMillan plan of 1902 Washington was

projected as the “City Beautiful.” Note how

great government buildings are placed sym-

metrically to face the square monumentally.

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century character of the square, he should build new officestructures behind the older historic buildings. In fact, theBoston architects had already shown this possibility to mein the drawings I had seen at GSA. Their plans and eleva-tions showed that at least two-thirds of the bulk of the newexecutive office building on the west side of the squarewould be oriented to 17th Street, not Jackson Place.Indeed, with a little shifting around, they could put theentire new building on 17th Street. If the president wantedto save the 19th-century character of the square, he shouldrestore and enhance it in appearance as the sort of residen-tial area Pierre Charles L’enfant had originally planned.This would mean discarding the 1902 McMillan plan.

I amplified my concept by suggesting a few new townhouses, which might replicate the existing houses, as fill-in for the tall, narrow office buildings from the 1920s,when the government began to replace houses there withoffices.2

With the residential concept, I assured the president, hecould have both historic buildings preserved and restoredand all the new space he needed. This was a concept ofdesign I had been pioneering in the West for 15 years. Bydesigning the office buildings in a Modern style that alsoexpressed the contrast and continuity of the historic oldbuildings, the new buildings would not only pay tribute tothe distinguished history of the square; they would alsoenhance the overall impact of the park and the architectur-al setting of the White House. In its context, the WhiteHouse is a relatively small building, flanked by a lot ofopen landscape. No longer rivaled by tall city structures,the White House would become again the center of

The west “wall” of

Lafayette Square (above) from

within the park.

Rising behind the

historic row is

Warnecke’s New Executive

Office Building (NEOB).


interest of Lafayette Square. This was particularly impor-tant on Jackson Place and Madison Place, where the hous-es were concentrated. Any large structures there woulddiminish the importance of the White House in the overallcomposition.

The president seemed pleased and even intrigued bymy advice. In his commentary, which was off-the-cuff, hesaid that he had promised Sam Rayburn, Speaker of theHouse, that he would locate the courts building on thepark. Utilizing his own architectural instincts, JFK contin-ued, “There doesn’t seem to be as much space or land onthis Madison Place site on the east side of the square asthere is on the west side. Could some of it be low andsome tall, as the Boston architects were proposing for theexecutive office building on the west?” I told him that thespace was tight, but I believed that this could be accom-plished with access to the courts building from the park as he had promised Sam Rayburn.

At this time I had not been told the serious obstaclesKennedy had confronted in his year long attempt to find asolution to the design of Lafayette Square. Here was a newand comprehensive concept that answered most of hisreservations. After discussing the approach with his advis-ers, Kennedy next asked me if I thought that the proposednew office and courts as I described them could be con-structed within the $28 million GSA budget originallyappropriated by Congress. This, he knew, was essential ifthe work was to go forward. I thought for a minute.Instead of the proposed new white marble courts buildings,if the new buildings were built of brick, I felt this wouldbe not only appropriate but in all probability could be

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Warnecke’s project for the facades of the

townhouses facing Jackson Place on

Lafayette Square (below). The historic Stephen

Decatur House is on the far right, and

the next two buildings house the White House

Historical Association. Buildings far left

are part of the Blair House complex.


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Lafayette Square under construction

(above), prior to the completion of the

in-fill buildings, which would

complement the historic row.


The two-page GSA

News Release, dated

October 17, 1962,

announcing the plan for

redeveloping Lafayette

Square (right top

and bottom).

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achieved within this budget. After a pause, I told the presi-dent yes, that I believed the new buildings could be builtwithin the budget. “Let’s do it,” Jack said with a wave ofhis hand to all those surrounding him at the cabinet table.It was with that simple gesture that the architecture andhistoric character of Lafayette Square were saved.

I was at my hotel packing later that day, hurrying tocatch a plane back to San Francisco, when I got a phonecall. “What in the world went on over there in the WhiteHouse today?” It was Len Hunter from the GSA. I toldhim that President Kennedy had asked me for an opinionon the design of the park. So I told him what I thought. Ifhe liked my recommendation, which it appeared he did, Iassumed he would pass this on to GSA and his architects.“It was much more than an opinion the president wanted,”Hunter replied. “He now wants you to design the project.”

When Jacqueline Kennedy returned from India andheard about the meeting in the Cabinet Room, she wasthrilled, and especially so to learn that her husband hadagreed to drop the constrictions of the McMillan plan andadopt a concept for a residential square based upon his-toric preservation. On April 16, 1962, she wrote to Davide. Finley, chair of the Commission of Fine Arts and alsochair of the National Trust for Historic Preservation:“Hold your breath because this is what is going to happen.. . . all our wildest dreams come true.”3

Mrs. Kennedy continued in her letter to describe how I planned to save all the older buildings on both the westand east sides of the park and design all the new buildingsin context with the old. Later in the fall of 1962 I wouldfinally meet Jackie, and after seeing all the preliminarydesign studies of the project, she was delighted. Soon afterobtaining the approval of the Commission of Fine Arts,she and President Kennedy held a small dinner in theWhite House in my honor.

I knew very well that my Lafayette Square conceptwas opposite to that of the architectural profession, whichsupported the doctrine of Modern design in architecturethat then prevailed both in the United States and through-out the world. To understand the power of the Modernviewpoint in architecture at that time, one must see andread about the thinking of nearly all architects in the early1960s. This era fell within the 50-year period in which theInternational style dominated modern architecture and wasthe only prevailing mode.

Architectural critic Peter Blake looks back at this peri-od in his book No Place Like Utopia (1993). He states that

there was a solid consensus about the responsibility ofarchitects and planners following World War II:

Clearly we had to rebuild our cities and our countrysides. .. . and the only way to meet it (or so it seemed) was to massproduce buildings, which meant, of course, developing certainstandardized norms that would inevitably produce repetitivepatterns of the sort that had characterized other forms of massproduction—for example, automobiles, trailers, even bricksand concrete blocks.

The new architecture would have to be modular andmachinelike in appearance. . . . Modern architecture spoke thelanguage of a free social-democratic society deeply concernedwith the real problems of the postwar years. Neoclassicalarchitecture, on the other hand, spoke the language of elitismand totalitarianism. . . .

The Modern Movement, in our view, was a politically rad-ical commitment to enhancing the human condition—a way ofdealing with predictably desperate problems of excessiveurbanization and universal overpopulation.

In short, Blake concludes, “We thought we could help cre-ate a more beautiful man-made world.”4

This entrenched idea was what the president and firstlady had been facing in their concerns for the scenes ofAmerican history. They were aware of the Modern style,of course, but what they did not know was how deeply thedoctrine was embedded and rooted in the architecturalworld of the early 1960s. It would take another decade forthose concepts to weaken and start to crumble before seri-ous questioning as to their validity. Yet another decadewould pass before Postmodern would emerge and takeModern’s place as the new style of the 1980s.

My own philosophy and approach to architecturedeveloped early in my career and was unique for the1960s. I grew up in the West, where, no question, the pioneer spirit still existed. To an extent it still does, and I admire it. Although I obtained an architectural degreefrom Harvard University under Walter Gropius, founder of the Bauhaus school of architecture in Germany and ofModern architecture itself, I had another influence perhapseven stronger. My architect father attended the École desBeaux Arts in Paris, and under his influence I had fromboyhood a deep feeling for the unique character and con-text of each place in which I designed a building. I workedin my father’s office, under him and his partner ArthurBrown Jr., also a distinguished classical architect.

It was clear that the odds were against my beingunderstood in the Lafayette Square project for the presi-dent. To help with the task, fortunately, I had designedseveral outstanding Modern buildings, while at the same


time I had pioneered designing other Modern buildingsmeant to fit into existing important historic structures ornatural sites. Wide recognition came to me for these diver-sified designs, and although in creating them I was goingagainst the revered doctrine of pure Modern style, mydesigns captured both the basics of Modern and the tradi-tions of a specific place. In historic places my designswere not eclectic copies of a previous style. I would haveto live with and face the inevitable criticism of moving inthis way with Lafayette Park. Neither the press nor theprofession showed much mercy. What none of them real-ized, blinded by Modern doctrine, was how far ahead ofthe times I really was. Mine was an approach to the squarethat would emerge with strength based upon concepts Ihad developed myself in the Far West in the late 1940s,nearly 20 years before.

But as Peter Blake says, the architects of the postwardecades worked with the conviction that whatever they

were doing, Modern design was going to change the worldfor the best. The bulldozer was their ally. They believedthat the only solution to urban decay was to raze large portions of our inner cities as Le Corbusier had proposedwhen in the 1920s he drew diagrams for wiping clean ofbuildings the entire west bank of Paris, to be replaced withhis own designs for a Modern garden city.

In 1961 Jane Jacobs, an editor of Architectural Forum,realized how dangerous the doctrine of Modernism inarchitecture would be to the planning and economic devel-opment of cities as a whole. The only difference betweenJacobs as a writer and me, with my experience as an archi-tect designing nearly all known 20th-century buildingtypes over the past nearly 20 years, was that I had actuallyseen how damaging Modern design was to many of thenatural and historical environments in which these build-ings were placed. I had established myself as one of thetop Modern architects in the United States; I knew precise-ly where Modern design and style worked and where thiswas not the case. I learned from actual experience thestrengths and weaknesses of Modern design. In historicplaces I was altering the Modern as required.

I was not trying to kill Modern and replace it with anew style as Robert Venturi would promote in the later1960s in a genre that would in the 1970s be calledPostmodern. Jacobs and Venturi were writing books andmanifestos. I was only showing in my work where Modernwas acceptable and where, in my opinion, it was not. Ofcourse, the architectural profession could not have had theslightest idea of the impact that my contextual approach todesign eventually would have on architecture. For me itwas a direction I had moved toward comfortably in the late1940s and the 1950s; I utilized it quite naturally in adesign solution for Lafayette Park and in the architectureof the New executive Office Building and the Court ofClaims, which were built behind the historic houses. As apart of the general review of design and a new and sensi-tive appreciation for antiques and old landmarks, seeded inthe relatively brief Kennedy administration, my “unusual”perspective made its mark indeed. I see its applicationevery day.

When I returned to Washington in the fall of 1962, I began to realize that in spite of support from bothKennedys, I had a hurdle or two between myself and theCommission of Fine Arts. Its approval was mandatory.Once the seminal meeting was scheduled, I was told that a crowd was expected to attend the public presentation and

Warnecke reviewing plans with President Kennedy.

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press conference, where the design and details would beunveiled. After several decades of work getting congres-sional approval for the project, this was the first time thecommission and public would see actual designs. My written text had been prepared by May 1962, but thisis all that GSA had seen. President and Mrs. Kennedy readit, and Len Hunter told me Mrs. Kennedy was mostpleased by it.

As the actual presentation date approached, I was toldbelatedly that every aspect of my design would have topass muster with the commission and that some memberswere still firmly committed to the schemes of the Bostonarchitects for two large Modern buildings of white marbleflanking the park. Keen public interest in the area aroundthe White House also brought out members of the presti-gious Committee of 100 and the Planning Commission for the District of Columbia. Several key members of thepress were notified. With my presentation materials com-plete, I started to think about how to stage and phrase mypresentation to win the support I must have.

Toward the end of the day before the public hearing,on October 15, 1962, I learned that Jackie Kennedyplanned to attend, representing the president.Understandably, I was most pleased by this news. I stillknew nothing of her previous efforts. From my perspec-tive she was simply playing the role of the Good Wife,who also admired my design. Being a veteran of manypresentations before committees and knowing that so oftenthe results are big surprises, I realized that I could notgamble on winning simply because Jackie was present. I needed the support of the president himself.

About 6:00 p.m. the day before my presentation, withthe help of my assistant, Harold Adams, I started a draft ofa letter I hoped the president would agree to sign. Thiswas to be a letter to Bernard Boutin, head of GSA, thatcould be made public prior to the presentation. After threedrafts in which I utilized the principles of my design phi-losophy as applied to this project, I phoned Mrs.Kennedy’s press secretary Pam Turnere, a friend of mine,in the east Wing and asked her if she would be kindenough to carry the draft to the president and ask if hewould sign it. Adams carried the letter with great speedand handed it to Pam. At about 7:00 p.m. the presidentsigned it with only one change: to the end of the fourthparagraph he added, “I hope that the same can be done inother parts of the country.” The letter, sent to Boutin, wasthen given to the press the next morning, which was

October 16, the day of the Commission of Fine Arts meeting:

I would like to tell you how pleased Mrs. Kennedy and Iare with the preliminary architectural studies of LafayetteSquare.

I have been reflecting on the significance of this work, notonly in the terms of the importance of it to the environs of theWhite House and our capital, but to what it means in a broad-er sense to other cities and communities throughout America.

As you know, I am fully cognizant of the progress madeby American architects and planners in their contribution toour country in contemporary design. This coupled with equalprogress made in our cities by their respective governing bod-ies in forging ahead with vast programs of urban renewal andredevelopment leads me to comment on the manner in whichthese plans are actually carried out.

There are throughout our land specific areas and specificbuildings of historical significance or architectural excellencethat are threatened by this onward march of progress. I believethat the importance of Lafayette Square lies in the fact that wewere not willing to destroy our cultural and historic heritagebut that we were willing to find means of preserving it whilestill meeting the requirements of growth in government. Ihope that the same can be done in other parts of the country.

I am particularly pleased that in this case you and thearchitects were able to express in the new buildings the archi-tecture of our times in a contemporary manner that harmo-nizes with historic buildings.

I congratulate you on this fine start.5

In accepting this letter over his signature, PresidentKennedy endorsed my plan, as well as my concept and myapproach to architecture applied to Lafayette Square. Thetext of the letter goes beyond the principles and doctrinesand strongly objects to the intrusion of Modern style intoimportant historic places. JFK endorses the idea of historicpreservation, as well as my concept of land use. In thisstatement, well before Venturi’s essays on the weakness ofModern architecture,6 an American president stepped for-ward to state that everything old need not be torn down asLe Corbusier (and nearly all the leaders of Modern archi-tecture) had envisioned.

In this letter JFK also endorses the comprehensiveapproach to design that perceived new buildings as com-patible with a variety of old ones, in the case of LafayettePark spanning most of the 19th century. I wanted Kennedyto support the overall concept of Modern architecture, butI wanted him to espouse the idea that Modern design mustbe altered to work with important existing environments.


Kennedy’s instincts and goals coincided with my architec-tural philosophy, and he did not hesitate. The presentationwas a success. Jackie’s appearance was a showstopper. We departed, and the commission deliberated.

Behind closed doors, the architect members of theCommission of Fine Arts hotly opposed my design forLafayette Park. Ralph Walker, a top American architectand former president of the American Institute ofArchitects, clearly stated the attitude of practically theentire architectural profession: “To keep on using badarchitecture and trying to preserve it because there is prac-tically nothing except Decatur House on that side of thesquare that is worth preserving—the rest is junk architec-turally—it is junk!”7 Mrs. Kennedy’s letter to Boutin theprevious March 6 decrying the Boston architects’ “coldmodern design,”8 which the Commission of Fine Arts hadalready approved, sparked Walker’s contempt: “I hopeJacqueline Kennedy wakes up to the fact that she lives inthe twentieth century.”9

Walker then turned his wrath on the old CorcoranGallery of Art, now known as the Renwick Gallery: “Ithink saving that old museum . . . I looked at it again whenI went up to the Mayflower a while ago. . . . It is just adeplorable piece of degenerating architecture which willcost more to restore and put back into shape, and what areyou going to use it for when you get through with it? . . .We live in an age of bigness. We don’t live in any age of

tiny little things put together. . . . [By Warnecke’s plan]what we have done is frivolously piddled away in therestoration of unimportant buildings. I want to say that asstrongly as I can say it.”10 Douglas Orr, who had served asa member of President Harry Truman’s committee forrebuilding the White House, 1948–52, and had helpeddevise the gutting process that had taken place, added hisconfirmation of Walker’s remarks. “I agree with Ralph. Ithink all these little bits of houses sitting along the street isgoing to make the United States look perfectly ridiculousarchitecturally speaking in the eyes of the world. I thinkthat to preserve the old Corcoran Art Gallery or the DolleyMadison House is pure folly.”11

The reaction of Walker and Orr was typical of respons-es from intellectual “somebodies,” who saw in the designproposals for Lafayette Park a golden opportunity todemolish “good for nothing old houses” and make way for a suitable Modern square before the White House. Mypresentation, together with the support of President andMrs. Kennedy, however, carried the day, and we gained

Bernard Boutin, administrator of the General Services

Administration, addresses the group gathered for the

presentation of Warnecke’s design for Lafayette Square.

Jacqueline Kennedy sits next to Warnecke in the front row.

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majority approval from the seven-member commission.

The architectural relationship of past, present, andfuture was soon expressed by the president in his dedica-tion address at Dulles Airport, which was designed by my good friend, admirer, and mentor eero Saarinen.12

Saarinen had died unexpectedly a short time before, in1961. I, for one, wanted to be at this dedication to hearJFK but also to be there in honor of eero and his designfor the airport. Dulles Airport was seen as one of the greatmasterpieces of Modern architecture in the 1960s.Kennedy spotted me in the audience, and my presenceseemed immediately to have reminded him of the architec-tural philosophy we now shared. He said: “This is a greatairport and a great time in the life of our country. . . . Webelieve in the past and in the future, and I think this build-ing symbolizes that great future, as Lafayette Park symbolizes that brilliant past.”13

These words united the past with the present andpointed to a strong and positive direction for the future.These were words that Walter Gropius, Le Corbusier,Mies Van der Rohe, Louis Kahn, Paul Rudolph, I. M. Pei,Philip Johnson, and all the other avant garde architects ofModern design would never have uttered in that period ofModern design. Nor was Jackie Kennedy a stranger to theweaknesses of Modern design. Her letter to BernardBoutin while Lafayette Park was still being reconsideredsaid, “All architects are innovators, and they would ratherdo something new than in the spirit of the old buildings. Ithink they are wrong in this case as the important thing isto preserve the 19th-century feeling of Lafayette Square.”14

A month before his death, Kennedy spoke at a tributeto Robert Frost at Amherst College, saying “I look for-ward to an America which will not be afraid of grace andbeauty, which will protect the beauty of our national envi-ronment, which will preserve great old American housesand squares and parks of our National past, and which willbuild handsome and balanced cities for our future.”15

However, tearing down the old to make way for a new andbetter future was the dominating philosophy of Modernarchitecture. empowered first by World War II and theaftermath of rebuilding war-torn europe, the Modern phi-losophy was the moving spirit of the American people inthe period of economic growth and prosperity of the1960s. It would take 30 years after John F. Kennedy’stime before the profession of architecture would begin to

understand this new approach to design and architecturerepresented in Lafayette Square.

The square became the first broadly publicized projectin America in which new government buildings wereincorporated on the same site with important older historicbuildings that were preserved for contemporary reuse.This project was also the first time in the Modern periodof design that the public saw new, large, modern buildingsdesigned in context with old, historic buildings. Finally, itwas the first time that new buildings were placed second-ary to existing historic structures. As a result, all the 19th-century townhouses facing the park and the White Housewould be saved, and the White House would remain themost important building on Lafayette Park.

President Kennedy would have been particularlypleased with the excellent reviews the project slowly start-ed to receive years after the design and construction werecomplete. Jackie lived long enough to be gratified bypraise for an achievement that casts a long shadow in

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American architecture and historic preservation. The urban planning concept that they endorsed 40 years ago goesway beyond today’s innovative styles of design in architec-ture. It is an approach to urban planning and architecturethat we must follow if we hope to control suburban sprawland save our open spaces and the beautiful natural worldwe live in and depend upon.

By the mid-21st century, the design of LafayetteSquare may well emerge as one of President and Mrs.Kennedy’s greatest long-lasting achievements. The ideacontinues to grow with ever greater power in all designand architecture.

Warnecke during his

presentation to the press

of his design for

Lafayette Square.

1. After graduating from Harvard, John F. Kennedy had attended Stanford University in the fall of 1940 as a graduate student looking into a possible career as a writer. He hadjust published his book While England Slept. A big football fan, he had seen me play in Stanford games that fall, when we won the national championship.

2. During the late 1920s legislation was passed authorizing the replacement of all the houses and other early buildings on the square with modern governmental office buildings.President Franklin D. Roosevelt first defied this legislation during World War II when he established Blair House as the White House guest house. Although Roosevelt wasaware of the legislation, and honoring it, the actual activity toward mass change did not begin until late in the eisenhower administration. eisenhower himself stopped demoli-tion of the State, War and Navy Building, now named in his honor. Warnecke would soon play a key role in its preservation.

3. Jacqueline Kennedy to David e. Finley, White House, April 16, 1962, David e. Finley Papers, Gallery Archives, National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.

4. Peter Blake, No Place Like Utopia (place: publisher, 1993), inclusive page numbers of quotation.

5. President John F. Kennedy to Bernard Boutin, General Services Administration, Washington, D.C., October 15, 1962.

6. Robert Venturi, Complexity and Contradiction in Architecture (New York: Museum of Modern Art, 1966), 23, 104.

7. Minutes of the Commission of Fine Arts, transcripts of closed session, October 16, 1962, Commission Archives, Washington, D.C. For unearthing this manuscript I am grate-ful to the Warnecke Institute of Design, Art, and Architecture, where I was provided with copies in 1993.

8. Jacqueline Kennedy to Bernard Boutin, General Services Administration,Washington, D.C.

9. Minutes of the Commission of Fine Arts, transcripts of closed session, October 16, 1962.

10. Ibid.

11. Ibid.

12. Saarinen greatly admired my contextual approach to design and architecture. In 1958 he had seen the publication of my design for the United States embassy in Bangkok andwrote me on September 16, 1957: “This is just a note to tell you that I was looking at your embassy in the last issue of the Forum and I think it is very very beautiful.Congratulations.”

13. President John F. Kennedy, speech at the dedication of Dulles Airport, Washington Post, September 18, 1962, also in the official published papers of Kennedy.

14. Jacqueline Kennedy to Boutin, March 6, 1962.

15. President John F. Kennedy, speech in tribute to Robert Frost, made at the Convocation at Amherst College, October 26, 1963.

Documents

The Rescue and Renaissance of Lafayette Square