The Capital: The Falling Front

The west front of the U.S. Capitol is in danger of tumbling down. Begun in 1793, the sandstone edifice has 21 cracks running down its full 105-ft. height, and more than 1,000 smaller cracks zigzagging crazily in every direction. The front portico is held up only by wrought-iron straps, and in three major areas is kept from buckling by impromptu wooden supports. So many records and books—including 300 copies each of the 17,000 bills introduced in the House this year—are stored in the Capitol attic above the west front that the old walls are under a downward pressure of an estimated 1,000 lbs. per sq. ft., which is four times as much weight as modern, specially strengthened storage buildings are designed to carry. A few weeks back, a 40-lb. chunk of stone plummeted from the facade to the ground below; now Congressmen and visitors have to walk through a protective wooden tunnel, hardly in keeping with the dignity of the building, to get to the main entrance.

Mussolini Modern. Obviously, something needs to be done in a hurry; yet Congress has not got around to appropriating funds to remedy the situation. The reason is a dispute over Capitol Architect J. George Stewart's plan to replace the west front with a massive $34 million extension. Stewart claims that the old walls cannot safely be repaired or replaced in their present position, and that the arches supporting the building might collapse if the temporary shoring is removed. Moreover, he adds, his plan would add 41 acres of badly needed floor space within easy reach of the House and Senate cham bers, enough room for 110 new offices (many with a spectacular view of the Mall), two cafeterias, two dining rooms and an auditorium for tourists.

Though agreeing that something must be done, Stewart's critics—an odd grouping of architects, journalists and Congressmen—contend that an extension would destroy the west front's unique architectural beauty. They want the crumbling façade restored, point out that damaged walls have been successfully repaired in such far older buildings as London's St. Paul's Cathedral and the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul. They also resent the fact that Stewart is an engineer rather than an architect and ridicule the "Mussolini Modern" aspect of the huge—and hugely expensive—Rayburn House Office Building, erected under his aegis.

Staunch Friends. An unfriendly House subcommittee recently subjected Stewart to the toughest congressional grilling of his career, and the Senate, acting on the unanimous recommendation of its 27-member Appropriations Committee, tacked an amendment on an appropriations bill forbidding him to proceed with the west-front extension until he gets an independent appraisal of the feasibility of repairing the old walls.