Tribune Tower. Chicago Tribune
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All architecture 'communicates', so it makes sense that media outlets have used their buildings as an extension of editorial and philosophical beliefs about civic ideals, corporate responsibility, and publishing power.
A good example of this trend can be seen through the international competition to design a new building for the Chicago Tribune during the 1920s, which, upon its completion, became "at once a monument to the Tribune's ideals and a 'glory' to journalism" (Solomonson, 2003). |
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In the architectural arms race between New York's major newspapers which took place along Park Row around the turn of the twentieth century, buildings were designed to emphasize "stability, strength, fortitude, and permanence" (Wallace, 2012).
More recently, the construction of media edifices such as the New York Times skyscraper in midtown Manhattan have emphasized transparency and adaptability - a clear commentary on the changing role of, and public attitudes towards, American news outlets and the publishing industries during the early decades of the twenty-first century. |
New York Times building. Wikimedia
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In the same way that "mainstream" (read white) media outlets have utilized their buildings as a form of editorial shorthand - as what Aurora Wallace describes as a "hook on which to hang some news about the media itself" - so too have publications geared towards Black audiences - within and beyond the United States - used their buildings to push back against racist media depictions of Black life, promote racial pride, solidarity and community interests, and foster the development of Black public spheres.
Christian Recorder building. Accessible Archives
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The precarity of early Black publications can be seen through the marginal spaces they occupied, with pioneering Black media enterprises such as Freedom's Journal blurring the lines between domestic and professional space.
For many early Black publications, simply taking up space was a cause for celebration. When the Christian Recorder moved into a new home at 631 Pine Street in Philadelphia shortly after the end of the Civil War, the purchase was held up as evidence of its legitimacy as a Black print enterprise. Control over a physical plant, no matter how small, provided visible evidence of a publication's commitment to Black readers. |
More broadly, Black publications and the people who made them came to understand the important connection between physical space and editorial message. By the beginning of the twentieth century, Black media buildings were not simply testaments to the power of the Black press, but had come to function as highly visible extensions of individual and collective ideologies.
For Chicago Defender publisher Robert Abbott, his paper's origins at the kitchen table of his landlady's apartment in 1905 played a critical role in establishing its reputation as a "community" paper and a publication that was rooted in, and beholden to, the Black community. Fifteen years later, its celebrated move to a new location with its own printing press offered confirmation of the paper's status as America's leading Black newspaper.
Black media buildings also offered a conduit for debating Black political participation and racial politics. When the Pittsburgh Courier favored Republican presidential candidate Wendell Willkie for the 1940 election, its publisher Robert L. Vann emblazoned the newspaper's headquarters at Centre Avenue and Francis Street with pictures of the politician to showcase his support.
Black media buildings also offered a conduit for debating Black political participation and racial politics. When the Pittsburgh Courier favored Republican presidential candidate Wendell Willkie for the 1940 election, its publisher Robert L. Vann emblazoned the newspaper's headquarters at Centre Avenue and Francis Street with pictures of the politician to showcase his support.
Johnson Publishing building. National Archives
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By the second half of the twentieth century, Black media buildings had become important cultural and political landmarks which stood as concrete reminders of Black America's ability to "succeed against the odds" (Johnson, 1989)
When publisher John H. Johnson purchased a new headquarters at the end of the 1940s, he was forced to disguise himself as a janitor in order to complete the sale. Two decades later, the publisher championed the unveiling of a custom-built new corporate headquarters in downtown Chicago as proof not only of his company's upward trajectory, but of the gains made by Black people - in the United States and across the diaspora - during the decades following World War II. |