Renowned architect Robert A.M. Stern, who passed away on Thanksgiving Day, left behind a transformative legacy that shaped New York City's architectural landscape for over four decades. His final project, the New York Historical Society's Tang Wing for American Democracy, set to open next summer in time for America's 250th birthday, perfectly embodies his philosophy of creating buildings that appear as if they had always belonged to the city.
Stern was widely regarded as one of the most powerful yet underrated architects in the United States over the past 40 years. He educated countless students, served as dean of the Yale School of Architecture, ran a firm employing 300 architects, and designed hundreds of buildings spanning styles from what he called "Plutocrat Classicism" to "Corporate Crystal." His masterpiece, 15 Central Park West, successfully revived the pursuit of traditional luxury in modern residential design.
Despite his architectural achievements, Stern often heard colleagues describe him as "a better historian than architect," delivered in confidential tones. However, this assessment undersells his dual excellence in both fields. His New York buildings were characterized by their functionality and urban sensibility rather than revolutionary design. Instead of imposing his architectural vision on the city, Stern absorbed New York's inherent urban qualities into his designs.
Stern's approach, commonly labeled as "contextualism," went far beyond simply fitting in with surrounding structures. Like a perceptive observer understanding social dynamics, he mastered the delicate art of making buildings look like they naturally belonged. His success stemmed from sharp analysis of the urban environment he sought to complement, backed by extensive research and documentation.
As a historian, Stern literally wrote the definitive books on New York architecture—six comprehensive volumes totaling 7,000 pages, co-authored with David Fishman and Jacob Tilove. The series culminates with the recently published "New York 2020," which chronicles the city's continuous transformation. These volumes cover not only Manhattan's major monuments but also lesser-known changes throughout the boroughs, from the leopard enclosure at Staten Island Zoo to supportive housing in the Bronx and a wooden-roofed Zen center in Flushing.
While Stern expressed strong opinions in conversation, his books maintained scholarly objectivity without promoting his own architectural philosophy. Instead, they reflected his deep erudition, unwavering loyalty to historical accuracy, and respect for collaborative discourse. As both historian and educator, he included perspectives from colleagues and critics who disagreed with his views, demonstrating intellectual generosity.
Stern's extensive research shaped his understanding of New York as a collective endeavor—an accumulated result of individual egos, financial gambles, grandiose visions, technical innovation, real estate opportunism, altruistic impulses, political realities, changing fashions, and demographic coincidences. His work reflected faith in an enduring city built on both granite foundations and cultural energy.
His approach to the New York Historical Society expansion exemplified his philosophy. Unlike previous proposals that would have dramatically altered the building's character, Stern achieved harmony by expanding invisibly while keeping the original roofline intact. Earlier plans included Hardy Holzman Pfeiffer's controversial 1980s proposal for a 23-story postmodern ziggurat condo tower and Richard Meier & Partners' plan featuring a white steel-and-glass addition that local residents strongly opposed.
Stern wasn't categorically opposed to air rights development, as demonstrated by his design for the Claremont. This 40-story tower rises from Union Theological Seminary, translating early 20th-century architectural vocabulary of gray schist and limestone into modern materials—gray-and-black brick trimmed with limestone-colored precast concrete. The result resembles a building dressed in tailored tweed, with facades featuring abundant bays, quoins, parapets, and grouped windows that echo the collegiate Gothic original.
The Claremont stands as Morningside Heights' tallest skyscraper, joining the neighborhood's collection of ecclesiastical stone towers including the 392-foot Riverside Church, Cathedral of St. John the Divine, and the ornately decorated seminary buildings. These structures represent early 20th-century American architects' attempts to disguise revolutionary technology and unprecedented scale within familiar architectural languages.
Stern's work connected to historical precedents when American architects, many trained in Europe, struggled with how to apply traditional styles to modern building technology. The Metropolitan Life Insurance tower on Madison Square featured Italianate palace design with a Venetian campanile housing speedy elevators and office floors. The Standard Oil Building at 26 Broadway used Renaissance stonework and columns to achieve the monumental scale the new century demanded.
Missing architecture's revivalist period, Stern began his career when modernist leaders insisted that contemporary buildings should be modern from structural core to exterior skin. The prevailing philosophy held that since outer walls no longer needed to support buildings structurally, they shouldn't pretend to strength—a simple weatherproof membrane would suffice. Stern rejected this fundamentalist modernist view, believing that window sequences, stone texture, and recognizable decorative elements gave architecture its essential character.
Stern looked back to how his architectural predecessors had reached even further into history, with each generation of neoclassicists building upon previous iterations while finding new expressions of historical styles. This approach didn't make him a mere throwback—he remained deeply engaged with contemporary needs and challenges.
Reflecting on his early career designing apartments for affluent clients, Stern acknowledged the compromises required to meet changing generational needs. He explained to Architectural Record how plans were opened up for his generation's lifestyle, combining staff rooms to create family rooms and merging living and dining spaces—changes he later viewed with mixed feelings. Even architects most loyal to New York's architectural heritage sometimes find themselves forced to alter it to meet present demands.
Stern's buildings, including his other notable projects like 220 Central Park South, demonstrated how traditional architectural language could be adapted for contemporary super-tall construction. While most Billionaire's Row towers evoked crystalline futurism, Stern's design evoked Old New York sensibilities at unprecedented height. His current project, the Henry, a 19-story building under construction at Broadway and West 84th Street, continues this philosophy of making "prewar" style relevant for contemporary living.
