Farewell 55
I wish I knew more about architecture. I think buildings speak of our history in a way very little else can. The conveniences we take for granted today – air conditioning, central heating, elevators, somewhere in history these were new and innovative ideas. Our buildings tell this story.
When I went to work in 55 Broadway I knew it would come with its challenges. It is a Grade 1 listed building – there are only so many changes that can be made. Conversely, there are parts we wish they’d kept that had already been ripped out in the name of modernisation.
I made the decision early on that I was never going to wait for the elevator because they were slow and old, and of a time when its promise to be able to carry 12 passengers was when people were obviously a lot smaller than they are today. That meant I got to climb the stairs with its decorative balustrade and enamel maps of the London Underground from ages past; pieces of my city’s history that we just casually past every day.
The bathrooms felt like they took forever to get to and were often cold or closed for cleaning. The kitchen closest to us felt like something from student accommodation. It was so cold in the winter that we took to wearing our scarves and gloves just to demonstrate how cold we were. In the summer we faced the problem of environmental migrants when it was discovered we were in one of the few rooms whose air conditioning still worked. Suddenly the room no one had wanted became the most sought after for a spare desk. Despite all of this, perhaps because of it, I loved this building.
It was not always the easiest of buildings to work in. However, it is one that I loved entering every day because I knew it was important. I knew it was part of London. I am grateful to have had the chance to walk along its corridors again, visit parts I hadn’t taken the time to explore before.
The first skyscraper in London, at only 13 floors high it is dwarfed by even small buildings now. Its architecture is unique. The crucifix shape and recessed floors meaning that it provided the necessary space without casting an oppressive shadow; important in getting planning permission. With the Palace just across the park, one must think of the neighbours. The foundation stones dedicated not by a Mayor or other titled person, but by the stonemason and the housekeeper – this was a building for the people who worked there.
No one will ever talk of the building I am currently in the same way they talk about 55. It is functional, and in that functionality comes a certain amount of disposability. It was not built to tell the story of its occupants the way 55 was. Its history is not carved into the skirting that circles the rooms. There are no doors behind which London was drawn up and redesigned, ready to present to the world a global city instantly recognised by that seemingly innocuous of details – its transport.
I do not know what will happen to 55, how much it will change. However, I have the feeling that whenever I walk past this corner I am going to find myself looking up and smiling. I hope I still see the familiar clock tower, the sculptures that adorn each wing, the scandalous statue (minus its six inches). Whatever it becomes I will have been a part of its history. I, for a few years at least, got to walk along the same corridors as the people were so instrumental in shaping how my city looks today, and how it is looked upon by others. Red buses. The Tube. Mind the Gap. This is London.
I wasn’t sure it was possible, and yet it always happens to me. From the roof of 55, taking in these views from this building that is so much a part of London, and so much a part of me, I fell in love with my city all over again.