The First National Bank building in Oklahoma City has stood like an Art Deco lighthouse over this prairie town since the 1930s. Despite being spared the wrecking ball of Urban Renewal in the 1960s (which brought down so many magnificent buildings), the First National Building has had its share of problems. Here’s more on the current owner’s financial woes. Beautiful marble flooring and walls have been torn out and replaced with soul-crushingly cheap tiling.
What makes this structure so remarkable is how little it has altered through time. The original wooden-banistered stairwells are still there; Art Deco bas relief abounds, combining gracefully with Art Nouveau stylings; and that magnificent lobby! The historic bank lobby, a two-story marble refuge at the centre of the structure, is, of course, vacant. A First National Bank hasn’t existed in years. It’s currently utilised to store the colossal Christmas tree that’s erected every year.
This is the note that makes me cringe. A friend of mine who works downtown recently went to the First National building to photograph the Christmas decorations, as many go every day for business or to enjoy the numerous stores and restaurants that remain along its main concourse. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it. It’s something I’ve done before. It’s a lovely set-up. Only this time, he was escorted out by an enraged building management and security guards—for nothing more than photographing a vacant bank lobby that hasn’t been in operation in decades.
It’s a sad day when a structure that used to be accessible to the public has turned into a police state. Given their financial difficulties, I’m surprised the present owners aren’t more welcoming to customers—which they are, since they may come to dine, shop, or visit the Oklahoma Tourism Department’s headquarters, among other things. It is for this reason that I have personally delivered copies of my book to the headquarters of Oklahoma Today magazine on multiple occasions.
When I was a youngster, I used to accompany my father to the subterranean concourse under the building, where he had a favourite breakfast place. It was a real joy and an experience for me. The First National Building, although not as large as the Empire State Building, reminds one (particularly a youngster obsessed with all things King Kong) of the Empire State Building, despite the fact that the First was erected first.
“Featuring polished metal, granite, glass, and a variety of marble variations from throughout the globe,” says the website. The skyscraper was topped up with an aluminium aircraft tower and a red beacon light atop a polished aluminium roof line, rising 446 feet above the sidewalk. Originally, the aircraft tower featured a giant white spinning beacon that could be seen for 75 miles. The observation deck on the 32nd level was open to the public. [Wikipedia]
Only one block up from the First National building, numerous structures have recently been destroyed. I photographed historic structures.
I could see a beautiful and artistic structure behind a cheap mid-Century makeover in the areas torn open by the crane. It’s quite depressing. I think I can’t express how beautiful architecture can be, how it can become a part of a city’s soul, to people who don’t grasp it. Modern architecture does not bother me. Reading my several diatribes on the subject may give the impression. No, I respect any design that demonstrates the architect’s passion for both the creation and the community, rather than just drawing a solution to a problem. a problem’s solution
Transcendence.
That is exactly what is necessary. Transcending mundane requirements and functions in order to embrace a deeper desire, something that the soul yearns for. I believe Oklahoma City has a hungry spirit, and I could easily see (as awful as it may sound) the First National building being demolished one day.
We are enthralled by other cities. Indeed, some may argue that this is one of Oklahoma City’s flaws: a constant want to go somewhere else. But we must remember that those other cities—New York, Chicago, Paris—didn’t emerge overnight, and all that magnificent architecture we admire didn’t exist because the people said “meh” and did nothing. True, those cities have lost treasures as well, but I believe they fight for each and every one. There is a feeling that people are concerned about these structures, as if they are also citizens. People do not close the doors to the buildings, and the structures do not close the doors to the people.
If Oklahoma City is a PC, Tulsa is a Mac, I’ve heard it said many times. In some ways, it seems to be true. Tulsa has a significantly more appealing skyline, with many lovely older structures still standing. And there’s no disputing that Tulsa seems to have a far deeper vein of creative appreciation than Oklahoma City. For much too long, they’ve enjoyed a riverside area and lovely parks. I believe everything comes down to the individuals and what they value. The ancient can and should coexist with the new. I ate at a restaurant in Barcelona that was most likely a restaurant a thousand years ago. It was carved out of recesses in an antique Roman wall’s foundation. History, art, and beauty are important to these cities. It’s vital to their spirits, as well as the soul of their city.
When I think of famous city icons (the Alamo, the Empire State Building, the Eiffel Tower), I frequently wonder what Oklahoma City’s icon is. That is a question for which I have yet to find a good response. Perhaps that’s because we’ve already razed it. Perhaps it is the first national structure. If that is the case, it will not become a revered landmark by closing off the public or succumbing to the notion that soulless glass and steel constructions are somehow superior and that all the old stuff must be removed to make room for the future.
