Brutal, powerful structure of 1969 is now out of style

As much as any building in the world, Boston City Hall is a measure of changing fashions in architecture.

It's hard to believe now, but in a poll of architects and historians in the bicentennial year of 1976, the building was voted one of the 10 greatest works of architecture in American history.

No way would that happen today. And even back then, the building was a lot more popular with architects than it was with the public.

The design for the building was chosen by a panel of expert jurors in an open design competition. Any architect in the United States could enter. The winners were two Columbia University architecture professors, Gerhard Kallmann and Noel Michael McKinnell. Both were inexperienced -- McKinnell was still in his 20s -- and neither had actually built a building before.

City Hall opened in 1969. And 1969 was the era of what is called Brutalism.

Brutalism was an architectural style of massive, powerful, raw concrete buildings. The term comes not from the English word "brutal" but from the French "beton brut," which means raw or unfinished concrete.

The style was derived from the late work of the most famous architect of that era, Le Corbusier. Boston City Hall, in fact, is pretty closely modeled on what is perhaps the French architect's greatest building, the monastery of La Tourette in southern France.

Corbusier's love of raw concrete was inspired by his discovery of World War II pillboxes on the coast of France, concrete buildings thrown up quickly for defense. They seemed very real, very honest, not like something a sophisticated architect had fussed over.

But La Tourette is modest in scale. Blown up to the proportions of City Hall, Brutalism does become brutal. From the beginning, most people found it intimidating.

The powerful outward thrust of the middle floors, as seen from outside, is the architects' way of letting you know that these floors are occupied by the important people, namely the mayor and the city council. But they look not so much important as aggressive, even threatening.

The biggest problem with City Hall, though, is the interiors. Indoor walls made of gray concrete, often without much natural daylight, are depressing. And there are a lot of them.

Those who admire the building sometimes argue that architecture doesn't have to be beautiful to be great. For them, City Hall is an ugly, wonderful, powerful, unforgettable building.

But fashions come and go in architecture, as in any field. City Hall today is definitely out.

One thing everyone agrees on is that the building could easily be improved. Even the original architects, who now run a very successful national practice out of Boston, say they would welcome some changes.

The multistory atrium, which is now open at the top to the sky, and therefore the rain, could be glassed in to become a delightful winter garden. A restaurant at the top of the great entry staircase could be a place for staff and public to meet and schmooze.

Even a bit of ivy on the exterior wouldn't hurt. The architects' original idea of a beer hall in the basement, like those in many German city halls, could be revived.

Mayor Menino would like the site and the plaza sold for redevelopment. The city could make a profit that way. But City Hall, whatever you think of it, is in an ideal location, easy to reach by subway. They mayor's been talking about tearing it down for years. He should be thinking instead of making it the best that it can be.

Globe architecture critic Robert Campbell can be reached at camglobe@aol.com.