Simply by existing, Black press buildings provided a potent reminder of the historic mission of Black periodicals to provide a 'voice for the race.' Yet the buildings inhabited by Black publications also 'spoke' to their success or failure as Black business enterprises. If a publication was important for African American audiences, surely it should have a building that lived up to its reputation? Accordingly, early Black newspapers wasted few opportunities to celebrate moves to larger or more impressive buildings as evidence of their significance for Black readers.
This would become increasingly important as technological and commercial advancements during the last two decades of the nineteenth century sparked a new wave of publications. In an increasingly congested Black periodical marketplace, Black press buildings became an important yardstick for measuring cultural and political significance. This sentiment is on clear display in an early issue of the Colored American, which moved its offices from West Canton Street in Boston to a new location at 5 Park Square in 1900.
This would become increasingly important as technological and commercial advancements during the last two decades of the nineteenth century sparked a new wave of publications. In an increasingly congested Black periodical marketplace, Black press buildings became an important yardstick for measuring cultural and political significance. This sentiment is on clear display in an early issue of the Colored American, which moved its offices from West Canton Street in Boston to a new location at 5 Park Square in 1900.
"At present time the Colored American Magazine occupies the most elaborate and best equipped rooms and offices of any race publication, and with the complete press-room and bindery that it is proposed to establish in the near future, the Company will possess an equipment that will easily place it at the head of all Negro Publishing Enterprises."
Furnishings and other interior features were used to visually craft a narrative of racial progress. Staged photographs of Black newspapermen and women 'at work' helped to reconfigure and repurpose the workplace in ways that reiterated the importance of independent Black publishing concerns.
Black journalists at the Colored American, 1902.
In addition to size and the procurement of suitable equipment, Black publications also used the interior and exterior design of their buildings as a way of commenting on or showing evidence of their efforts to 'uplift the race.' The built environment became a way of projecting the editorial position or political mission of a given publication. This can be seen through the early development of the Richmond Planet, a newspaper founded in Richmond, Virginia in 1882 by a cohort of formerly enslaved African Americans.
Under the leadership of John Mitchell Jr., the paper became an outspoken defender of civil rights and a militant voice for Black advancement. This message was embodied through its striking masthead, which featured a "powerful logo of a flexed, muscular black arm with a lightning bolt radiating out of its clenched fist." Before long, this image was also emblazoned on the exterior of the Planet building - a provocative sight during an era characterized by widespread anti-Black violence and a lynching epidemic.
Under the leadership of John Mitchell Jr., the paper became an outspoken defender of civil rights and a militant voice for Black advancement. This message was embodied through its striking masthead, which featured a "powerful logo of a flexed, muscular black arm with a lightning bolt radiating out of its clenched fist." Before long, this image was also emblazoned on the exterior of the Planet building - a provocative sight during an era characterized by widespread anti-Black violence and a lynching epidemic.
Richmond Planet masthead
People posed on the porch of the Richmond Planet, c.1899. Library of Congress Prints
Large banners or logos painted onto the sides of Black press buildings helped them to assume an oversized role within the geography of Black urban life, one which reflected their own importance in shaping popular understandings of the Black public sphere. Clear demarcation also allowed Black publications to distinguish buildings from their previous function. When the Chicago Defender moved into a former synagogue at the beginning of the 1920s, the building was extensively redeveloped to remove most signs of its former life, while a huge sign was painted on the exterior wall designating the building as the new home of the "world's greatest weekly."
Chicago Defender building at 3435 South Indiana Avenue. Published in Simm's Bluebook (1923)
As the financial clout of Black publishers and business owners grew, some were able to finance the construction of new buildings that would embody the true 'spirit' of the periodicals which inhabited them.
An elegant example of this effort to align spatial and editorial representations of Black identity can be seen through the design and construction of the Chicago Bee building during the 1920s, which was financed by Black business magnate Anthony Overton. Built within the context of the "New Negro" movement and the ascent of architectural modernism, the building was an attractive, art-deco inspired addition to the South Side's skyline.
An elegant example of this effort to align spatial and editorial representations of Black identity can be seen through the design and construction of the Chicago Bee building during the 1920s, which was financed by Black business magnate Anthony Overton. Built within the context of the "New Negro" movement and the ascent of architectural modernism, the building was an attractive, art-deco inspired addition to the South Side's skyline.
Architectural rendering of the Bee building, 1929. Z, Erol Smith / NPS
Described by the Chicago Tribune as a 'modernistic bit for South State Street', the Bee building helped to position Overton's newspaper as a legitimate competitor to the Chicago Defender, which reigned supreme as the city's preeminent Black publication. Perhaps even more importantly, its ornate exterior served to distinguish the Bee's editorial focus and desire audience from that of the Defender.
While the Defender was undoubtedly popular, many of Chicago's Black bourgeoisie saw it as a distinctly lower-class affair - one which relied on sensationalism and the exploitation of reader fears and anxieties to help boost sales and circulation. By contrast, the Bee was a 'respectable' organ - a sedate and sophisticated publication which adhered to "professional journalistic standards and appeal[ed] to middle-class, conservative black Chicagoans" (Williams, 2014). These lofty ambitions were embodied through the intricate terra cotta design which drew the eye of passing motorists and pedestrians.
While the Defender was undoubtedly popular, many of Chicago's Black bourgeoisie saw it as a distinctly lower-class affair - one which relied on sensationalism and the exploitation of reader fears and anxieties to help boost sales and circulation. By contrast, the Bee was a 'respectable' organ - a sedate and sophisticated publication which adhered to "professional journalistic standards and appeal[ed] to middle-class, conservative black Chicagoans" (Williams, 2014). These lofty ambitions were embodied through the intricate terra cotta design which drew the eye of passing motorists and pedestrians.
Close-up on exterior of the Bee building. Jyoti Srivastava, 2010
Arguably the most ambitious merging of publishing ambition and building aesthetics came with the construction of the Johnson Publishing corporate headquarters at 820 South Michigan Avenue, which was completed during the early 1970s. The building's striking exterior design was the work of Black architect John W. Moutoussamy, who had studied under Mies van der Rohe as part of the Illinois Institute of Technology's famed architectural program. While Moutoussamy was well versed in the International style which dominated the work of many postwar modernist architects, publisher John H. Johnson was adamant that he didn't want another 'glass shirt building'. Instead, he wanted a distinctive structure that would stand out among the many impressive landmarks which dotted the city's South Loop neighborhood. Expanding on the advertising efforts of earlier Black press buildings, 820 South Michigan Avenue was topped by an enormous Ebony/Jet sign which was visible along much of the Lake Michigan shorefront between downtown and Museum Campus.
John H. White / Documerica, 1973
However, the real style was found on the inside of 820 South Michigan Avenue, where an interior design team headed by Arthur Elrod and William Raiser had curated an extraordinary vision of Black cultural mores. The company described the sites aesthetic as a blending of "ancient African art and futuristic furniture design", helping to connected appeals to Black cultural nationalism and diasporic design with a Black modernist chic that was rooted in the 1970s. Architectural critic Lee Bey has described the building's interiors as 'an exuberant, high-style and fearless mix of a color, texture, art, contemporary furnishings and pattern...an afrocentric modernism that was well-turned, avant garde and quite hip - a perfect match for publisher John H. Johnson's groundbreaking magazines."
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"Ebony Magazine's New Home." Ebony, September 1972
In keeping with their emphasis on visual style and conspicuous consumption, the new wave of Black consumer magazines catering towards an upwardly mobile Black professional class, headed by publications such as Essence and Black Enterprise, took inspiration from the Johnson Publishing headquarters to create their own monuments to Black cultural and economic advancement. When Black Enterprise relocated from Madison Avenue to Fifth Avenue, publisher Earl Graves set out to create "an office of the future."
"Turning the top two floors of an industrial building into a sophisticated, functional, corporate headquarters required a great deal of investigation by the design team. They discovered that the rich history and fine tradition of the black press provided inspiration...it was this sense of meshing a bit of the past with the future that became the essential theme for the interior design and choice of furnishings."
Interesting design choices which gestured towards Graves' enthusiasm for 'old-world' style included a spiral staircase which connected the 10th and 11th floors. The corporate office and boardroom spaces were described as embracing a "traditionally 18th century English" style intended to create a sense of sophistication, culture and stability. Other idiosyncracies included ornate chandeliers, grandfather clocks, and a lavish executive dining suite.
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"A Corporate Showcase." Black Enterprise, October 1984