Leaping Time & Space

The challenge was to symbolize the westward expansion of America. The mathematical solution worked out to

Y=A(COSH X/L C1) and X=L/C[Cosh-^1(1+Y/A)]

The visible result is the loftiest monument since the Eiffel Tower, a structure 75 feet taller than the Washington National Monument. Three years in construction, the gleaming gateway arch of prestressed concrete sheathed in stainless steel (see color) now stands on the bank of the Mississippi River, a proud civic symbol that opens onto the American heartland and sparks the future of the city of St. Louis, through which half a nation trekked in search of destiny.

The arch's bold leap through space was designed by the late Eero Saarinen in 1948. Of the 172 architects (including his father Eliel) who entered the St. Louis competition, he had the most daring proposal. Wrote Saarinen: "An absolutely simple shape--such as the Egyptian pyramids or obelisks--seemed to be the basis of the great memorials that have kept their significance and dignity across time."

Daring Gravity. Saarinen wanted to create, as his widow Aline said at the topping-out ceremony, "a monument for our time out of the materials of our time." He also wanted to express the exuberant spirit of St. Louis, where settlers met before taking the Oregon and Santa Fe trails. "The arch," he believed, "could be a triumphal arch for our age as the triumphal arches of classical antiquity were for theirs." But what form should it take? He rejected the Romans' semicircular arch as "too much like a rainbow," the pointed Gothic arch as "too ecclesiastical," finally decided on the simple catenary curve--the form produced by letting a chain hang naturally from two points.

As time went on, even this seemed too tame. Daring gravity even further and relating more dramatically to nearby construction, Saarinen "weighted" the curve by imagining heavier links toward the ends than at the center, thus heightening the arch. Where his prizewinning plans had called for a height of 590 ft., he added 40 ft. more. Today the arch straddles 630 ft., equal to its overall height (about that of a 62-story building). The final result is as powerful a statement of mid-20th century technology in stressed steel as the Eiffel Tower was of the age of iron.

Chuck Wagons & Colt .45s. Next August Ferris-wheel-type elevators inside will begin to carry visitors up to a 65-ft.-long observation gallery at the arch's apex. From their lofty station, sightseers will be able to scan a city in renaissance (TIME, July 17, 1964). The arch casts its gigantic shadow across a 90-acre park that has replaced a ramshackle waterfront district. Eventually trees will stud the mall to provide relief from St. Louis' steamy summers; an underground museum will house the chuck wagons and the Colt .45s that signaled westward expansion. Only the Old Courthouse--where the Dred Scott slavery trials were held--in an axis with the arch, and the 1831 Roman Catholic cathedral, near the arch's left leg, remain of the old St. Louis.

In place of waterfront slums stretch cleared spaces and new structures--the visible signs of a city in full evolution. St. Louis' $550-million-plus rebuilding program is, with Philadelphia's, the biggest in the nation, has already affected 871 acres and produced such handsome structures as the $89 million Busch Memorial Stadium, designed by Architect Edward Durell Stone for the football and baseball Cardinals.

Bonanza Year. In striding into its third century, St. Louis is demonstrating how powerful a stimulant to a city's pride both art and architecture can be come. Its arch has given the city a symbol recognizable round the world, and already its citizenry has rallied. Last month an out door exhibition of outstanding examples of such famous modern sculpture as Rodin's St. John the Baptist, a Calder stabile, and Bauhaus-Teacher Gerhard Marcks's Three Graces were set out against the background of the Missouri Botanical Garden. Many of the works came from private St. Louis collections. If the city lives up to its Medici potential, many will soon become public, playing their role in plazas and malls.

This week Mayor Alfonso Cervantes, whose name is a reminder that the site of St. Louis once was ruled by Spain, plans to sign an agreement in Madrid for the purchase of the Spanish Pavilion from the New York World's Fair. For $3,300,000 in private funds, St. Louis would acquire the fair's most highly praised structure, with its three restaurants, 748-seat theater, and an art gallery. And given St. Louisans' thrust to make their city great, bonanzas are not likely to stop there.

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