 ABOUT THE HISTORICAL PHOTOGRAPHS Boston's Symphony Hall, built in 1900, is rated one of the three great music halls in the world from the point of view of acoustics. The other two are in Vienna and Amsterdam. A fourth, the Gewandhaus in Leipzig, Germany, was destroyed in World War II. The architect was Charles McKim, whose famous New York firm, McKim, Mead &amp; White, designed such notable buildings as the Boston Public Library, Harvard Stadium, and the original Pennsylvania Station. McKim's first design for the venue, which got as far as an elaborate wood and plaster model, was a semicircular hall like a Greek theater. But the symphony's founder and chief donor, Henry Lee Higginson, chose the safer path of imitating the compact rectangular shapes of two halls known to be successful acoustically: the Leipzig Gewandhaus and the Music Hall in Boston, where the BSO played for its first 19 seasons. (The Music Hall still exists as the Orpheum, now used largely for rock concerts.) Higginson and McKim also benefited from the advice of a young Harvard physics professor, Wallace Sabine, who was in the process of inventing the science of acoustics. Clients and their architects don't always see eye to eye, especially on the subject of costs. McKim complained that his building was "denuded by &hellip; ruthless economies." By the standards of concert halls, Symphony Hall is indeed austere, reminding us, perhaps, of the legendary Boston ladies of the Victorian era who would leave new gowns from Paris in their closets for a year before wearing them, in order to avoid looking too fashionable. The message of the architecture is that the hall is a place for serious listening. It is emphatically not -- as is, say, the luxuriant Paris Opera -- a setting for ostentation or social preening. -Robert Campbell and Peter Vanderwarker, "CITYSCAPES - Organ Transplant", Boston Globe, 8 May 2005 

although the recent photograph shows a less elegant canopy. But look at the rest of the old comer Westland and Massachusetts meet at an acute angle, and the Boston Storage Warehouse, the building on the right comer in the old photo, responds by angling along with the streets, filling the comer, and holding the edge and shape of both street spaces. At the same time, the warehouse punctuates the comer with an octagonal tower. It isn't an elegant building, but it's a very elegant piece of urban design. In the old photograph, the building poking up over the end of Symphony Hall has a tower, too, and this one also marks a comer, that of Westland with St. Stephen Street - also an acute angle. Together, the two towers with their wizard hats frame the opening into Westland, suggesting a gateway at the entrance to this short, wide street, which is, in fact, a kind of boulevard leading to the Fenway beyond. These architectural forms really work to shape and mark urban space. Looking farther along Westland, next to the Boston Storage Warehouse, we see a remarkable building, part of the warehouse and obviously intended to look like a fortification. Its boldly shadowed rank of bays above and arches below make it a strong, probably too strong, element in the street wall.

Replacing the Warehouse is Church Park Apartments, designed by the Architects Collaborative and finished in 1973. The rigidly right -angled orthodoxy of modernism does not allow this building to bend as it should at the angled comer. The building can align with one .street or the other but not both. Choosing to align with Massachusetts, it leaves silly little triangles of useless, residual space along Westland, chipping away at the shape of the street and the comer. The aggressive, jutting upper floors dominate Symphony Hall, which is a more important building, while failing to punctuate or tum the comer in any way. The round shape of the parking garage in the rear completes the chaos.

What is it, exactly, that has changed the intersection of Westland and Massachusetts avenues from well-shaped urban space into a mishmash? Symphony Hall, on the left in both photographs, hasn't changed much since the late 1920s, although the recent photograph shows a less elegant canopy. But look at the rest of the old comer Westland and Massachusetts meet at an acute angle, and the Boston Storage Warehouse, the building on the right corner in the old photo, responds by angling along with the streets, filling the comer, and holding the edge and shape of both street spaces. At the same time, the Warehouse punctuates the comer with an octagonal tower. It isn't an elegant building, but it's a very elegant piece of urban design. In the old photograph, the building poking up over the end of Symphony Hall has a tower, too, and this one also marks a comer, that of Westland with St. Stephen Street - also an acute angle. Together, the two towers with their wizard hats frame the opening into Westland, suggesting a gateway at the entrance to this short, wide street, which is, in fact, a kind of boulevard leading to the Fenway beyond. These architectural forms really work to shape and mark urban space. Looking farther along Westland, next to the Boston Storage Warehouse, we see a remarkable building, part of the warehouse and obviously intended to look like a fortification. Its boldly shadowed rank of bays above and arches below make it a strong, probably too strong, element in the street wall. Now look at the comer of today. Replacing the warehouse is Church Park Apartments, designed by the Architects Collaborative and finished in 1973. The rigidly right -angled orthodoxy of modernism does not allow this building to bend as it should at the angled comer. The building can align with one .street or the other but not both. Choosing to align with Massachusetts, it leaves silly little triangles of useless, residual space along Westland, chipping away at the shape of the street and the comer. The aggressive, jutting upper floors dominate Symphony Hall, which is a more important building, while failing to punctuate or tum the comer in any way. The round shape of the parking garage in the rear completes the chaos. Even the cars and the trolley in the old picture have a humane appearance, looking like boxy rooms on wheels, unlike the low, sleek capsules of today. Cobblestones carpet the old street, domesticating it, where the bold, painted arrows of today are visual static. In the old photo, the cars parked in front of Symphony Hall make a kind of hedge that softens the street edge. They'd be illegal today. There is nothing at all in the recent picture that is an improvement, visually - though you can't help admiring the brave bicyclist in the foreground.

 Peter Vanderwarker   Peter Vanderwarker, Peter Vanderwarker 

Symphony Hall

Ann Beha from Ann Beha Architects talks about Symphony Hall.

 Symphony Hall opened on October 15, 1900 with an inaugural gala led by music director Wilhelm Gericke. The architects, McKim, Mead & White of New York, engaged Wallace Clement Sabine, a young assistant professor of physics at Harvard, as their acoustical consultant, and Symphony Hall became the first auditorium designed in accordance with scientifically derived acoustical principles. 

Symphony Hall is widely regarded as one of the top finest concert halls in the world. The walls of the stage slope inward to help focus the sound. The side balconies are shallow so as not to trap any of the sound, and the recesses of the coffered ceiling, along with the statue-filled niches along the three sides, help to distribute the sound throughout the hall. The 16 replicas of Greek and Roman statues are related in some way to music, art, or literature. They were placed in the niches as part of an appreciation of the frequently quoted words, "Boston, the Athens of America," written by Bostonian William Tudor in the early 19th century. The Symphony Hall organ, an Aeolian Skinner designed by G. Donald Harrison and installed in 1949, is considered one of the finest concert hall organs in the world.

Symphony Hall

THEN AND NOW