For Further Detail
A glimpse into the beating heart of global capitalism: 270 Park Avenue.
On Thursday morning, I got a tour of the new JP Morgan global headquarters at 270 Park Avenue. I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about this building, despite working right next to it, aside from finding its Transformers-esque structure rather ominous and oppressive. The whole thing was a very foreign experience as I don’t think I have ever even worked in a building more than 12 storeys tall, and don’t spend any time in spaces like this. I will not be talking about the engineering of this building, for not only are there trade publications for that, but structures was never really my strong suit. (This is why I specialize in small buildings, instead of tall buildings.) What I will give you is a first-hand account of my experience in this building, as an architect and unauthorized personnel who had no business being there.
The first thing I noticed when walking into 270 Park Ave. from its main entrance is the sheer indisputable power of travertine. Despite this building being defined by the amount of steel used to engineer and construct it, you step inside, and are immediately overcome by these vast sinuous expanses of stone.
After making your way through the security gates, you come upon a giant staircase that takes you to the upper lobby, where all the elevator banks are. I learned that over the course of any given day up to about 1000 visitors will pass through the building (more when conferences are taking place), many of whom are coming straight to or from the airport for meetings, or just returning to work. And what do they have with them? Most likely a wheeled carry-on suitcase. Because the elevator banks are one floor up, you have to lug your suitcase up a flight of 20 or so steps just to get to an elevator. And to think several hundred people are doing this every single day. While waiting to be checked in, I saw three different people carrying venti cold brews in one hand and their Rimowas in another, hobbling up these smooth stone steps. I could not help but laugh. Mind you, this building cost 3 billion dollars to build.
I found the upper lobby oddly calming. Again, tens of thousands of square feet of travertine apparently will have this effect, especially when there are no sharp edges. The pale earthy stone is complemented by a tightly packed grid of light bulbs covering the entire ceiling, 10,000 to be exact. Almost one bulb per capita, as there are 9,500 employees housed in the building, and about 1000 more in operational staff. I asked what happens when a bulb goes out. The guy giving me a tour said, well first you have to wait for someone to notice, but once they do, then you have to wait ‘til after the building’s main operating hours have concluded, so they can bring out one of their scissor lifts, unscrew and replace the bulb.
It made me think of Hilary Sample’s Maintenance Architecture, a book that examines the frequently overlooked maintenance routines required to keep buildings functioning or “alive.” Or the architectural films of Ila Bêka and Louise Lemoine, that deal with this idea through a series of case studies, like the professional climbers enlisted to clean the windows of the Guggenheim Bilbao. We forget that embedded architecture is actually a lot of theatre. I’m grateful whenever I am reminded of this.
Speaking of theatrics, at the top of this main staircase you’re greeted by a giant flagpole, the centerpiece really of these first two floors, whose flag blows suspiciously and relentlessly, in a lobby where there are noticeably no drafts. I learned that this is because within the flag pole on its North-East side there are vents that blow air directly into the flag, keeping it blowing at all times—supposedly in the same direction as the wind, but I don’t know how to verify that. This is what happens when you forget to give a project a budget. A very “just because you can doesn’t mean you should” moment, but again, I do like theatre.
I wasn’t able to experience the coffee service in the lobby, but I did really want to test the caliber of their cortado, as I heard from one source that they really delivered on a quality cappuccino. The main lobby is complex in that while it houses my favorite design flaw, it also features my favorite design detail. Ironically, it’s the exit signs, which I suppose are more of an illusion for the employees, as it was made very clear that the one thing this building does not want you to do is leave. The exit signs, however, are not so much signs as they are legible light fixtures beautifully inlaid within the stone or sometimes bronze. It’s rare that an exit sign feels so thought through, and, well, expensive.
Before heading up to yet another lobby, the “sky lobby” on the 14th floor, we made a quick detour out to the Madison Avenue plaza to see the Maya Lin installation, A Parallel Nature, which I always just thought was a nod to Jurassic park insisted upon by someone with too much power on the project. It never occurred to me that it was in fact a commissioned piece designed by our matron saint of landscape architecture.
If you have taken any classes on the history of New York, you’ve heard about the Manhattan schist, our great city’s bedrock, the same bedrock that this steel megastructure presses up against while carefully avoiding the tracks of the LIRR which fall directly below it. I walk past this hideous installation everyday, but now that it’s spring, there are little plants and flowers pushing through the cracks in the stone. It’s gone from Jurassic Park to The Last of Us, how sweet.
Finally, we left the main lobby, and up to the sky lobby we went. My ears did the weird thing in the elevator, which I would hate to have to experience multiple times a day, and I imagine only gets worse the more floors you have to cover.
Arriving on the 14th floor is very similar to arriving at the new Delta Terminal at LaGuardia. There are branded coffee shops that exist nowhere except within this building, in the same way that you have never seen a Cibo Express outside an airport terminal. The ‘fancy’ one is called The Corner. I debated, again, getting a cortado. I didn’t. Though the finishes feel more expensive, I was confused not to be hearing boarding calls in the background, and having “where’s my passport” anxiety. Past The Corner, and around another, we arrived at the lobby part of the sky lobby. We had entered the Delta One lounge. The seating was accommodating, but not too accommodating, natural light poured in through the triple height windows revealing what was actually multiple shades of taupe covering the Crate and Barrel-looking furniture. It was even complete with an actual Starbucks just around another corner.
Past the Starbucks was the gift shop. Half Hudson News, half 5-star resort gift shop. It had a handful of over the counter drugs displayed like candy on white oak consoles. Razors filled glass vases and candy jars like they were Redvines. Fantastic, really. With your Advil you could also purchase a Sophie Lou Jacobsen champagne coupe. Boy, was someone thinking they had an idea with this one. There was also a fully stocked Swedish candy bar. So, you could in theory get your candy, a beautiful dish to eat them out of (at your desk), and Tums for the aftermath. It’s like a one stop shop, but for whom?
One flight down from this was the food court which, while having slightly more expensive buildouts than your standard Wolfgang Puck to-go, didn’t give me much to write home about. That is, until we arrived at Morgan’s, the building’s private English-style pub that has only about 55 seats and requires weeks in advance reservations, booked exclusively through the JP Morgan employee app. And yes, I would like to go, if anyone can make that happen. Though I don’t think that’s my audience. I didn’t get to look at the menu because they weren’t open yet, but I did get a glimpse of Bar Stool Sports playing on one of the three TV’s above the bar, as well as the martini tables that are fastened to the armrests of the club chairs by the window. (I liked those.) I wondered if women liked coming to Morgan’s. It was giving maybe no. Though I have no idea.
Our tour wrapped up with a visit to the 56th floor, the highest inhabitable floor in the building. 56 gives you the wrong impression though. 30 Rock, over which we towered, is 70 floors, so we must have technically been somewhere closer to 80 or 85, as we felt almost parallel to the top of 432 Park.
There was an interesting material shift when you got up here. Suddenly everything was walnut. The whole space was enveloped in a grid of walnut wood paneling, even the underside of a sweeping unsupported staircase was paneled, with tables and counters to match. None of that Bavarian white oak where the plebs and traders lived downstairs. It was much more serious up here.
This floor was for executive meetings and client entertaining, and we were very much not allowed on it, but he said it was worth trying to get a glimpse of the view. He was right. I had certainly never seen all of upper Manhattan, Central Park, New Jersey, the Bronx, and Westchester from this vantage point. Yet, all I could think about was how I learned about air rights from a movie called Burlesque (yes, the one with Cher and Christina Aguillera), and how I hoped they had some, because I would be pissed if after 3 billion dollars someone came and sat right in front of me. The craziest part of this was that you could even see a glimpse of the Tappan Zee Bridge, about 50 miles away up the Hudson. I hate to be someone who can be impressed by a view, but I was. I was impressed by the view.
Then we made our way back down. My ears did not enjoy that ride, but my hands did enjoy the knurled bronze railing in the elevator. Very satisfying to the touch. Nice traction too, if for some reason you had to hold on for dear life. We transferred elevators at the sky lobby again, to get back down to the main lobby. The next elevator had a less satisfying leather wrapped railing. Nice try, I thought. I made my way past the travertine-clad espresso bar, once again swiping my hand across the smooth surface of the counter, as the barista called out a cortado for Sam. Seemed like fate. I didn’t take it. Instead I strolled back down the grand stair, watching two more people lug their suitcases up, sans coffee. I laughed again, this time not at them, but at the thought of me working in this building.
Note: I didn’t know I was going to write about this when I took my tour, so I regret not taking more photos. That is also why they’re bad.