English Heritage (EH), the body that advises the Government on matters affecting the historic environment, last month considered 22 mid-20th century office buildings for addition to its national list of buildings of historic or architectural importance.
Some may perhaps think it odd that 20th century office buildings should be considered to be of historic value, but EH recognises that they are an important modern building type.
What is of particular interest to Birmingham is that of those 22, three are buildings in this city designed by John Madin, more than by any other single architect other than the multi-national Arup Associates. Yet Birmingham continues to pursue what looks like a concerted attempt to erase any memory of Madin, the city’s best 20th century architect, by demolishing his buildings.
The 1974 Central Library (twice recommended by EH for listing) is about to be destroyed: on January 31 the Friends of the Central Library held a wake in Chamberlain Square, to mourn the imminent destruction of this fine building. Ten years ago, part of this newspaper’s headquarters in the city centre, opened in 1966, were demolished. The Chamber of Commerce remains under threat, and there are plans to demolish the 1971 Masonic Temple on Hagley Road and the 1974 NatWest Bank on Colmore Row.
The NatWest Bank was in EH’s longlist of 22 office buildings for listing, as was Madin’s 1976 Neville House in Harborne Road. But both ended up among the eight that were not listed. The one Madin office building that was included in the 14 to be listed is St James’s House, his building for the Engineering Employers Federation in Frederick Road in Edgbaston.
This was completed in 1957 and it is the oldest of the 14 buildings selected for listing. It is also the most modest – small, two storeys in height, and architecturally polite. No expressionist brutalism here: that came later.
St James’s House was Madin’s first major building, and led to his being commissioned later for extensive work by the Calthorpe Estate, and to the Chamber of Commerce, which in turn led to the Birmingham Post and Mail building commission. Remarkably, it is still occupied by the same body which commissioned it over 60 years ago (with a slight name change), and which has since cared for it well.
From outside, we can clearly read the division of the building into two functional parts. The entrance, reception hall, the boardroom, other meeting rooms, the impressive staircase and the chief executive’s office are contained in a concrete-framed square block on the street corner. The frame is made visible on the ground floor but at first floor level it disappears behind a smooth travertine marble surface.
Of particular interest is the entrance, which is located in a generously proportioned recess on the street corner. A fluted circular concrete column supports the corner of the building above and the recessed space is enclosed by a free-standing screen in green slate, pierced by a pattern of diamond-shaped holes. This shelters the glazed doors with their beautiful custom-designed hardwood door handles. It is all rather Festival of Britain in feeling.
This square block has a mannered elegance which is clearly learnt from influential Italian modern architecture of the period and which expresses that this is the prestigious part of the building. The more routine office tasks are accommodated in a lower and plainer wing that runs down St James’s Road, built in load-bearing brickwork with simple repetitive fenestration. This polite class distinction in architecture now looks old-fashioned but is done charmingly. It’s similar to the distinction that we find between an Arts and Crafts house and its service wing.
When the building was designed, one of its important functions was to accommodate regular negotiations on wages and conditions between the employers and the trade unions. These sessions took place in the boardroom but Madin designed a suite of spaces that facilitated the bargaining process.
Adjacent to the boardroom are private meeting rooms for each of the two sides, with their own lavatories, so that the two delegations could shuttle easily between their private in camera discussions, and their face-to-face negotiations. These bosses-and-workers meetings now belong to yesterday and Madin’s spatial arrangement is evocative of a different culture. It still works however because it can be adapted to today’s needs, just as one can still live today in a Georgian villa with a coach house.
The boardroom is a splendid space, big and square, panelled in ribbed sycamore strips and lit by floor-to-ceiling windows to the south. It feels very Swedish in character. Madin had visited Sweden as a student in 1949 and was very impressed by Swedish architects’ “modernism with a human face”. This became influential upon English architecture and particularly shaped the 1951 Festival of Britain.
Madin was, from the beginning, very fastidious in the detailed design of his buildings. At St James’s House he designed the carpets, door furniture, panelling and curtains. It is to the credit of both him and his clients that so much of the building fabric has survived and still impresses with its quality.
St James’s House is not extreme in its architecture. When Madin designed it in 1954, modernism was unknown in Edgbaston, and he had to demonstrate, almost certainly against opposition, that the modern idiom could happily co-exist with Regency houses. This pioneering act he achieved with discreet invention and attention to detail.
Now that it is listed at Grade II, its future should be secure and future generations should be able to obtain an insight into the foundation on which a successful architectural career was built. How shameful it is that the later products of that career are so unappreciated by those with power and influence in John Madin’s own city.
Joe Holyoak is an architect and urban designer