Texas Modernism Revealed

To an outsider it might seem that the state’s tenets are reflected in the title of architectural historian Kathryn O’Rourke’s latest book, Home, Heat, Money, God—a collaboration with Houston-based architect and photographer Ben Koush. Yet despite the catchy title, O’Rourke reveals a deeper truth  over the course of 400 pages, highlighting 12 distinct typologies of Texas architecture in the context of their local and regional roots. Koush’s photographs add depth and context to the narrative.

O’Rourke details the importance of Texas’s modern architecture, cementing its vastness and significance in the discussion of modernism in the US, which is most commonly associated with Southern California and Florida. The buildings discussed are grounded in their specific temporal, social, political, and environmental contexts and in their long-lasting influence on regional design culture. Many regional architects make multiple appearances, including the ever-influential Texas modernist master O’Neil Ford, FAIA, and the state’s first Black registered architect John S. Chase, FAIA. Philip Johnson, FAIA, and Paul Rudolph, FAIA, are also routinely referenced for their contributions to the Lone Star State’s architectural landscape.

The book’s first chapter, “Home,” discusses housing of all types, with a particular emphasis on the importance of the single-family residence as the historic nucleus of Texas society that evolved into a place for hosting and entertainment. In the following chapter, “Heat,” which also focuses primarily on residential architecture, brise-soleils, louvers, and other sun-mitigating devices are discussed as near necessities due the state’s hot climate. 

Gears shift to a broader corporate and commercial design discussion in “Money.” This chapter showcases banks and office buildings whose erection is a direct result of the industry most synonymous with 20th-century Texas: oil. Of note are Lubbock’s Great Plains Life Insurance Company skyscraper and First National Pioneer Building, which stand sparsely amongst the arid West Texas landscape. Questionable, however, are comparisons of these two buildings with their far more elegant and superior East Coast predecessors: the Philadelphia Savings Fund Society and United Nations Secretariat Building. In a deviation from the highrise typologies, O’Rourke highlights William Lescaze’s geometrically elegant two-story Magnolia Lounge in Dallas’s Fair Park. While not an office tower or bank, the pavilion—designed for the Texas Centennial Exposition in 1936—was a direct result the oil boom, as it was commissioned and funded by the Magnolia Petroleum Company.

The presence and influence of religion in Texas fittingly warrants its own chapter: “God.” Christianity’s stronghold in the state is well documented; however, the willingness of universities to indulge in experimental architecture for campus chapels is not. While Houston’s equally famous Rothko Chapel and Rice Memorial Chapel  are spoken of at length, O’Rourke’s special admiration for the Little Chapel in the Woods cannot be overlooked. The author describes O’Neil Ford’s chapel, which is located on the campus of Texas Woman’s University in Denton, as “one of Texas’s greatest buildings” due to it being “one of the finest examples anywhere of the entwined effects of the Arts and Crafts movement and industrialization on modern architecture.” 

Another chapter examines the importance of sports and leisure spaces, both of which blossomed in mid-20th-century America. Mentions of the Joan Means Khabele Bathhouse at Barton Springs Pool in Austin and Whataburger’s famous A-frame structures join cinemas, ballrooms, and private clubhouses in the discussion of where Texans spent their leisure time. Sports stadiums—a sacred building typology in our football-crazed state—are detailed, including as the backdrop for President John F. Kennedy’s famous “We choose to go to the Moon” speech, delivered a year before his death in another Texas city, at the Rice University Football Stadium. No discussion of sports in Texas would be complete, however, without inclusion of the Astrodome—the world’s first air-conditioned sports stadium—and O’Rourke and Koush  appropriately dedicate more text and imagery to that building than nearly any other project within the book. 

In the book’s conclusion, in an essay aptly titled “What We Save and Why,” O’Rourke discusses the urgency of preservation and adaptive reuse of buildings in the wake of a deteriorating climate. The final building chronicled in the book is the former Brazos River Authority Headquarters. Home of the first such agency in the country responsible for managing an entire river basin, the building now serves as the office of the Waco Housing Authority and Affiliates. It is fitting that a building created for an organization dedicated to preserving the environment would not be demolished but instead be repurposed to address another equally pressing social concern .

Home, Heat, Money, God is crisp and meaningful, endearing and reflective, sobering and superb. O’Rourke’s writing is grounded in sharp analytical commentary of the built environment and the forces behind its construction, embodying forthright objectivity. In one instance, she takes aim at 20th-century greed using Midland, and West Texas in general, as an example: 

“Skyscrapers shoot up suddenly from the almost incomprehensible flatness of fields of oil and cotton, against expansive skies, and yet in a hauntingly frank relationship with the earth below, whose pillage and destruction they were built to support and by which they are sustained.” 

O’Rourke’s brutal honesty and candor are not only appreciated but warranted and necessary as an analysis of architecture, its connection to the people it serves, and the environment from which it emerges. She also champions the importance of photography for architects and historians alike, noting that “photography bolsters architects’ careers, and architectural historians’ selections and judgements of their subjects can be shaped by photographs.” 

It is no surprise that the major cities have the most representation: Houston dominates with 40 projects while Dallas comes in second with 22. The discussion flows nicely to smaller cities throughout the state, including Van Horn, Fredericksburg, and McAllen. Likewise, handsome images from these more remote regions speak to Koush’s extraordinary photographic efforts—and sense of urgency—to create a larger record of the architectural heritage across the state before future demolitions. 

Commendably, O’Rourke does not shy away from topics of segregation and immigration. She discusses the user experience of Black and Mexican Texans differing from that of their white counterparts and highlights the significance of many architectural marvels built explicitly for minority groups, particularly as social and religious spaces. Likewise, there is appreciated discussion of the influences of Mexican architects Félix Candela and Juan O’Gorman, given the boundless presence that the neighboring country has on the state. Equal emphasis is given to the world-class art museums in Texas, which are often overlooked on a national scale. Surprisingly, though, apart from the discussion of the Astrodome and Rice Football Stadium, there is an unfortunate lack of athletic facility architecture depicted, considering how the state is famously known for its intense sports spectatorship. I also wish that certain buildings mentioned were accompanied by photographs, notably San Angelo City Hall and Austin’s J.J. Pickle Federal Building,  which O’Rourke writes about with much fervor.

At its core, Home, Heat, Money, God is a well-timed catalogue of Texas modernism. As many buildings throughout the state become outdated, fall into disrepair, and are threatened with demolition by local municipalities, O’Rourke and Koush’s contribution  cements the architectural, historical, and contextual importance of modernist designs within the state.

For Texas architects, designers, or historians, this book holds the potential to be deeply personal. For me, it brings back countless memories: many drives past the now-demolished American Bank in Bellmead on I-35, numerous walks past the Rio House Apartments in Austin during my time as a student, and frequent studies of Houston City Hall at both its ground-level promenade and from the window of an adjacent skyscraper during my years in the Gulf Coast. As I read, my personal experiences with many of the buildings discussed inspired a constant nostalgia and appreciation for the state’s strong architectural heritage. Home, Heat, Money, God deepened my connection to these buildings and their histories, and will no doubt spark similar introspection amongst fellow Texas-centric designers.

O’Rourke and Koush created a magnificent book which, thanks to its cataloguing nature, is a rich chronicle and call to save modernism in Texas.