History That Doesn't Suck - 180: “A Race to the Sky”: The Rise of New York City’s Chrysler, Manhattan Company, and Empire State Buildings

Episode Date: June 2, 2025

“If this is to be a skyscraper… why not make it scrape the sky.”  This is the story of the race for the tallest building in New York City—in the world.  Erstwhile partners-turned-bitter rivals, architects William Van Alen and Craig Severance are both looking to build the tallest skyscraper in New York City. William is working with automobile titan Walter Chrysler to build his Chrysler Building; Craig is working with George Ohrstrom, a.k.a., the “Boy Wonder” of Wall Street”, to build the Manhattan Company Building at 40 Wall Street. It’s a battle of engineering, wits, zoning, and egos, as each alters their plans with money being no object in the fight to construct the taller (and tallest) skyscraper in the world. But as these two rival teams duke it out, the city’s beloved Waldorf-Astoria Hotel on 5th Avenue is going under. Something new is rising there—something that just might prove a late entry and dark horse winner in this race with… a mooring mast for airships at the top? Yes—the proposed Empire State Building is threatening to blow this race out of the water and change New York City’s skyline forever. ____ Connect with us on HTDSpodcast.com and go deep into episode bibliographies and book recommendations join discussions in our Facebook community get news and discounts from The HTDS Gazette  come see a live show get HTDS merch or become an HTDS premium member for bonus episodes and other perks. HTDS is part of Audacy media network. Interested in advertising on the History That Doesn't Suck? Contact Audacyinc.com To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices

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Snacks, delivered. Fresh fruit, delivered. Grocery delivery on repeat for just $2.50 a month. Learn more at PCexpress.ca. It's just past 11 on a hazy mild morning. Friday, May 1st 1931. We're in a crowd of thousands that's choking off Fifth Avenue between 33rd and 34th Street in New York City, all staring in awe at an unbelievable skyscraper. Let's take it in. The ground floor's black granite contrasts strikingly with its large windows and aluminum

doors, two revolving and one set of doubles, in a beautiful attention-grabbing sort of way. Our eyes are then drawn over a thousand feet upward as they drink in an immense window-checkered cream-colored tower of Indiana limestone. Unable to crane our necks any higher, we bring our gaze back down to the first five floors, that is, to the building's base. It has sleek geometric etchings, and in the center are three multi-story windows flanked by two engaged columns, each of which is topped by a stately concrete eagle. Between these magnificently sculpted birds, you see an engraving in golden capital letters. It reads, Empire State.

Yes, this is the Empire State Building, a work of art deco genius and the new tallest building in the world. Today is its grand opening. A well-dressed man, accompanied by two small children, steps in front of the building's double doors. His former New York governor and defeated Democratic presidential candidate, Al Smith. He grins and waves, hat in hand to the crowd. While Al is hardly the only man behind this project, he's the one running the corporation that's made the Empire State Building a reality.

He's its face. As such, it's now said that this is the house that Al built, and he says that he built it for the next generation of New Workers. Hence, his young grandchildren, Mary and Arthur. They're here to cut the ribbon. At 11.15, Al leans down and tells the little ones, All right, kids, go to it.

They raise the scissors as high as they can. They're trying so hard. They clip at it, but no luck. Oh, don't you worry, Mary and Arthur. Grandpa's here to help. Al scooches in, takes a bit of ribbon in his hands, and snaps it. Police officers open the double doors, letting little Mary and Arthur lead the way into the lobby, while keeping most of the crowd outside.

Don't worry, we're good. I got us tickets. Entering, we find the lobby is relatively small, considering the size of the edifice as a whole. It's dark too. No lights. Until 1130, that is, when President Herbert Hoover presses a golden telegraph key down in Washington, D.C. that fires up the Empire State Building's power. The lobby flashes to life. Dark marble glistens. A mural of the building itself gleams, and right next to it, we see elevators.

Al indicates toward them as he interrupts our gawking. Come on, everybody, follow me, and we'll go around to the elevators that will take us up to the 86th floor, the observatory deck. Well then, up we go. Exiting the elevators, we soon emerge outside on the observatory deck. The views are breathtaking. On the north side, we hear someone exclaim, "'There's Central Park, no bigger than a football gridiron!'

Oh, and look to the right of Central Park, just a bit closer to us, there's the Chrysler Building, the former tallest building in the world, yet it appears so small from here. Heading to the south side of the observatory deck, we can see all the way to downtown where another former tallest building in the world, the Woolworth Building, looks downright minuscule. Even farther in the distance, the famous Brooklyn Bridge's towers peek through the fog like little splinters.

And out in the harbor, we can see Lady Liberty, a genuine colossus in reality, but from here, she looks no bigger than an ant. We pass the whole afternoon here on the 86th floor's observatory deck. With 350 others, we enjoy a buffet lunch. We listen to the Hotel McAlpin Orchestra's rendition of the Star-Spangled Banner, and of course, we hear plenty of speeches. Al Smith reads a congratulatory telegram from President Herbert Hoover and introduces the current governor, Franklin D. Roosevelt, or our Frank, as Al calls him, while assuring reporters that there's no truth to the rumors

of bad blood between them. New York City Mayor Jimmy Walker, or our Jimmy, as Al affectionately calls him, offers his congratulations and praise as well. Architect Richmond H. Shreve describes the incredible engineering that enables this building to stand while contractor Paul Starrett reflects on the city's history, from its colonial cabin beginnings to the metropolis it is today. But as the afternoon comes to its end, I kind of want to go higher, don't you? Come on, I heard the noted and daring newspaper woman, Dixie Tai, is going up. Let's go with her. Riding in an entirely separate elevator from the one we took to the 86th floor, we continue upward, another 200 feet, up a thinner, building-topping tower that wasn't even visible to us when we were standing just outside on the street. We're

going up to the 102nd floor. Oh wow. This view. We're now more than 1200 feet above ground. Why do the buildings look bigger somehow? Something about perspective, I'm sure. This is insane. Now, what's this? Dixie's talking to a gatekeeping construction worker. His mild protestations are giving way to nods though and… Oh no way.

She's talked him into letting us go to the very top. One more floor up. Construction isn't quite finished here, so we start on a wooden ladder, then step onto a steel stairwell. This takes us to the 103rd floor. The only thing above us is a mechanical room with a roof that, from the outside, looks like an upside down saucer. Speaking of, ready to go outside again?

Cautiously, we step onto a narrow path that circles the tower. Only a waist-high parapet protects us from falling nearly a quarter mile to our certain deaths. Things look even bigger up here than they did on the 102nd floor. Whatever you do, do not lean over that parapet. Oh, and that wind is harsh. You know I think that's enough. Let's head back inside. Now that I'm not competing with the wind, let me tell you what's really amazing about this 103rd floor. It isn't just the top of a 200 foot tall building topping tower. It's the top of a 200 foot tall

mooring mast. Here 1,450 feet in the sky is where passengers will board and disembark from dirigibles. That is, from blimps and airships. The Empire State Building isn't just the tallest building ever. It's the future of travel. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story. That's right. The top of the Empire State Building is intended to serve as an international port for globe-traversing airships, which are catching on in popularity these days.

But will it really work out? Well, we'll see about that as we take in today's story about the race between 1929 and 1931 to build the tallest building in New York City and the world. A race that starts between the Chrysler Building on Lexington Avenue and the Manhattan Company Building at 40 Wall Street, but is later joined by a Fifth Avenue competitor, the Empire State Building. Now, I realize we already know which one is going to win, but there's so much more to the story. These three buildings, all feats of engineering and icons of New York's skyline, never would

have come into existence if not for new technologies and techniques, as well as the conflicting personalities, grudges, unbridled ambition, and even hubris of the individuals behind them. Men whose competitive natures led them to push engineering to new heights and give us skyscrapers even bigger than their egos. We've got a lot of buildup before the eventual end of this competition, and yes, pun intended. So let's get to it by heading back to early New York City and seeing how the highest point in the skyline goes from being a church steeple to a mooring mast born from a race to the sky. Rewind. From colonial days well into the 19th century, New York's skyline is defined by one towering structure,

Trinity Church. Every time it's rebuilt, this downtown Episcopal house of worship seems to touch heaven itself, but that's particularly true after its 1846 rebuild. The church's more than 280-foot-tall steeple draws visitors who love to go up it and take in its incredible views of the city. But after more than a century of a spire-defined skyline, New York sees the rise of a new type of building, one whose name first described high-standing horses in the triangular sail at the very top of a ship's mast. That building, of course, is the skyscraper.

If the credit for skyscrapers goes to anyone in particular, it's William LeBaron Jenner. While the second industrial revolution's advancements in iron are already starting to take buildings ten stories up in the late 19th century, this former chief of engineers for Union General William Tecumseh Sherman has a new birdcage-inspired skeletal design that takes the structure's load off the walls and places it on intersecting columns and beams. Add to this Sir Henry Bessemer's discovery of how to make iron into an even stronger substance called steel and, well, we have the modern skyscraper, the first of which, arguably, is William LeBaron Jenner's skeletal-framed home insurance building in

Chicago. It's completed in 1885. Well done, Chicago, but New York catches on quickly. Bradford Gilbert brings the skeletal structure to the Big Apple with a narrow 160-foot tall building in 1888, while in 1890 the headquarters of Joseph Poulter's New York World becomes the city's new tallest building, beating out Trinity Church with a reach of 309 feet. And not even a decade later, in 1899, the Park Row building one-ups Joseph's, towering at a mass of 386 feet. In the process, it returns the title of Home of the Tallest Structure in America back to

New York. The year 1902 adds the uniquely triangular Flatiron building to the city's growing number of skyscrapers, while in 1908, the Financial District Senior Building ups the height ante considerably with its staggering 612 feet. Not to be outdone, American entrepreneur and retail magnate Frank Woolworth then makes his namesake 792-foot skyscraper New York's tallest. He does so in 1913. It's after the Woolworth building goes up that New York City leaders start to think that maybe

they need some rules and regulations for these jaw-droppingly tall skyscrapers. Yes, this is early zoning. Let's say fair, America isn't sure how it feels about rules telling property owners what they can and can't do on their own land. And yet, at the same time, the modern world has enabled people to build structures that can now impinge on a neighbor's use of their own property. Perhaps the best example of this actually comes from 1878, when Central Pacific Railroad Exec Charles Crocker spitefully built a 40-foot tall wall around his neighbor's house to choke out all sunlight

as a punishment for the man's unwillingness to sell his land. Yeah, not cool, Charles. So for better or worse, New York City seeks to mitigate one property impacting another, or the public, by becoming a zoning pioneer with its 1916 zoning resolution, quote, regulating and limiting the height and bulk of buildings hereafter erected, and regulating and determining the area of yards, courts, and other open spaces, and regulating and restricting the location of trades and industries, and the location of buildings

designed for specific uses and establishing the boundaries of districts for the said purposes." These zoning regulations, which require buildings to step inward with what's called setbacks so that they don't end sunshine as the city knows it, are more than put to the test amid the boom of the roaring 20s. That particularly becomes the case as William Van Allen and Craig Severance start reaching for each other's throats. Ah, William and Craig.

They were New York's architectural dynamic duo of the 19-teens. Fit and handsome with a full set of hair, Craig had the salesmanship while tall and lanky William brought true architectural genius and talent. They were the perfect pair until 1924. This is the year that their partnership sours over the firm's new direction and who gets the credit for their successes. And now in the city known for its rivalries, be that Alexander Hamilton vs. Aaron Burr, Joseph Poulter vs. William Randolph Hearst, the New York Mets vs. the New York Yankees, or where to get the best New York style pizza or even bagel. William Van Allen and Craig Severance are about to go head to head in one of the most

explosive competitions the Big Apple has ever seen. Their competition starts, we might say, in 1927 as William Van Allen works with real estate investor William Reynolds on a project at 405 Lexington Avenue. What starts out as a 40-story hotel becomes an office skyscraper. On June 3rd, 1928, Mr. Reynolds meets with the National Association of Building Owners and Managers. They review the plans, ensuring everything is up to code. The next month, the approved design is released to the public. American architect credits William Van Allen with, quote,

departing from certain of the old time principles on which the skyscraper was developed. The design of the Reynolds building is developed to be of interest throughout its entire height, close quote. It's just the praise that the slightly socially awkward architect needed. It's hard to sell his the slightly socially awkward architect needed. It's hard to sell his brilliance without Craig in the picture.

Sounds like this project is going in the right direction. But by September, Will Reynolds is dragging his feet on starting construction, and on October 15, 1928, he sells the lot to automotive pioneer Walter P. Chrysler for $2 million. Ah, William Van Allen wonders. what does this mean for his designs? Is he out of a job? There's only one thing he can do, attempt to set aside his social awkwardness and be his own salesman as he meets the new owner. It's November 5th, 1928. We're at 347 Madison Avenue in New York City, the office of Walter P. Chrysler.

Husky and handsome with a side part in his slick hair, this titan of the car industry looks pensively at the six-foot-tall, lanky, blue-eyed and brown-haired figure just entering his office. Instantly, he's sizing up this awkward Ichabod crane of a man. This is the architect whose plans for the site at 405 Lexington Avenue came with the purchase. William Van Allen. The men engage in small talk. A painful experience for William, but he navigates it and somewhere in the conversation Walter realizes that he's seen across

from a man who, though lacking the gift of a gab, is a fellow disruptor, a rule breaker, an architect who dreams, dares, and does both things. As that realization settles in, the 1928 Time Magazine Man of the Year gets down to business. He'd like to hire William, but not to use his current plans. Walter wants the architect to come up with a whole new building. Walter bellows at his nervous guest, I want a taller building of a finer type of construction, and it's your job to give the best that's in you. The car Titan continues, telling William to study Western cities buildings, to examine the design and materials and then improve upon them to the best of your ability.

Spare no effort or time. As the two men part, they've agreed that William has an unlimited budget from which he can assemble a team that will report only to him. The formerly disgruntled architect has scored the opportunity of a lifetime. The next day, William Van Allen jumps into revamping his plan,

ready to make 405 Lexington Avenue, that is, the Chrysler Building, the tallest, finest built structure in all of New York City. He wants an architectural character that is effective, beautiful, expressive of the purpose of the building, of our method of construction, expressive of the purpose of the building, of our method of construction, and of the spirit of the times. The architect is inspired by a new, colorful, and geometrically ornate style that you and I will know as Art Deco. Things move fast. On November 9th, 1928, excavation of the site begins before there's even a finalized plan for the actual building. On November 12th, William submits the design for the lower part,

or the base of the building. Ten days later, the 22nd, he shares plans for floors 11 through 27 with Walter Chrysler. For the eight weeks after this, William struggles to figure out how he wants the top of the building to look, but in January 1929, he resumes with fervor. On January 26th, the 51st through 67th floor plans are sent over. They're followed on February 1st by plans for floors 28 through 50. And finally, on March 4th, plans for the outside of the building are finalized. Williams' final design includes long vertical stretches of windows, bands of dark brick

around the corners, and most uniquely, a dome on top of the tower decorated with several arches that successfully build on top of each other, taking the building higher and higher. In sum, it's currently envisioned to be a 68-story, 809-foot tall tower with 900,000 square feet of rentable floor space. William partners with contractor Fred Lay. Fred brings ample experience from other NYC construction projects and at the end of February 1929, he hangs a sign on the recently cleared Lexington lot that reads, Chrysler Building being erected on this site, ready for occupation spring of 1930.

In early March, Walter Chrysler releases Williams designs to the public. The New York Times reports, World's tallest edifice to coast $15 million topped by artistic dome. The New York Sun adds, quote, At night the tower will be floodlighted with banks of lights on each side of the four corners of the terrace at the 56th floor and another set on top of the dome to light the pinnacle of the tower. The pinnacle will be in the form of a 30-pointed star set up on end. It will be of case aluminum and mounted on a figure 16 feet high. Close quote. be of case aluminum and mounted on a figure 16 feet high."

That same month, March 1929, William Van Allen's disgruntled former business partner, Craig Severance, goes horseback riding in Central Park with his daughter, Faith. It's a typical outing for the outdoors-loving father-daughter duo, but today, on this ride, he mentions rather nonchalantly, I'm going to build the tallest skyscraper in the world. Big news. Word from anyone else. This is entirely consistent with who her influential, big-dreaming and big-doing father is.

Faith's answer is just as cavalier. Oh, how wonderful. Okay, so how does Craig just happen to undertake the same tallest building task at the same time as his former partner? Well, in September, Michigan native George Orstrom, aka the Boy Wonder of Wall Street, formed a holding company, then proceeded to purchase or lease, most discreetly, six lots surrounding Wall Street and Pine Street. By January of 1929, George had plans to build a skyscraper at 40 Wall Street, and once the

Bank of Manhattan Company agreed to help George's financial situation, hence the future skyscraper's name, the Manhattan Company building, the Michigander turned to a trusted architect, Craig Severance. Thus, on March 12, 1929, just five days after William Van Allen's Chrysler building plans are released to the public, Craig Severance begins planning the Manhattan Company Building. Being more of a salesman than an architectural artist, he does so with the help of a gifted Japanese-American architect, Yasuo Matsui. Their goal is to have the building done in just over a

year, by May 1, 1930. An insane pace, but they have just the contractors, a pair of Midwestern brothers whose resume includes several of New York City's most impressive buildings, Paul and William Sterritt. They and their partner, Andrew Eakin, will make the Manhattan Company building a reality. The city's newspapers are delighted by what's becoming a sensational competition. That April, New Yorkers are reading headlines such as

Banker at 24 to build highest structure here, work is being rushed, and 64-story bank building to rise in Wall Street, as well as Wall Street building to top all in world edifice to have more than 63 stories capped by sparkling financial. Ready May 1, 1930. By the end of April, 1929, William Van Allen and Walter Kreisler have a decision to make. Will they revise their already approved plans for the Kreisler building? Or simply accept that they're playing second fiddle to Craig Severance and George the Boy Wonder Orstrom down on 40 Wall Street with their proposed Manhattan Company building? Well, Walter Kreisler doesn't do second place.

The car guru instructs his awkward architect, Van, you've got to just go to get up and do something. It looks as if we're not going to be the highest after all. Think up something. Your valves need grinding. There's knocking you somewhere. Speed up your carburetor. Go to it.

Ah, but Craig is working too. He and his team decide to both raise and excavate the site simultaneously in order to save time. That proposed finished date of May 1, 1930 is slowly creeping up, after all. By the end of May 1929, the foundation and demolition of the Manhattan Company building is almost finished. Meanwhile, William's Chrysler building is on its 14th floor. Yet, despite that progress, William can still make alterations and has an idea up his sleeve to re-top his former partner's design. As William puts it, if this is to be a skyscraper, why not make it scrape the sky?

On June 5th, he sends a new, higher-reaching plan to Walter. A grand spire will protrude out of the top of the design, piercing through the clouds and truly scraping the sky. Throughout the summer of 1929, each building races upward. William guards his new plans as secretly as possible, but by the end of August, his smooth-acting former partner, Craig, finds out. To him, this is unacceptable. He simply must redesign the Manhattan Company building to go higher. And he must keep that redesign a secret from William, of course. But how can that be done with the city's bureaucracy?

Zoning means structural changes need new approvals. Yet, as journalist and author Neil Bascom tells us, on or about September 1st, revised plans were filed for 40 Wall Street, and nothing showed up in the dockets for public consumption, close quote. Uh-huh. No one really knows how they got there, but somehow, Craig managed to sneak his new plans into the building's file.

I guess it's good to have friends in figuratively high places when you're trying to secretly build even higher reaching spaces. Once again, it looks like the Manhattan Company building will beat out the Chrysler building. By September 4th, 1929, the Chrysler building's beams and columns reach the 64th floor. Just one more floor before they can begin the Dome's fire tower and secret spire. William is busy. So busy that he doesn't know that there's another contender. A third entry in the race for the title of New York's tallest building.

A dark horse threatening to best both his Chrysler Building and his nemesis of a former partner's Manhattan company building. Indeed, if it does enter the race, this third potential competitor on Fifth Avenue might change the face of New York City forever. Add a little curiosity into your routine with Ted Talks Daily, the podcast that brings you a new Ted Talk every weekday. In less than 15 minutes a day, you'll go beyond the headlines and learn about the big ideas shaping your future. Coming up, how AI will change the way we communicate,

how to be a better leader, and more. Listen to TED Talks Daily wherever you get your podcasts. In mid-September 1929, Paul and William Starratt venture to the Biltmore Hotel on Madison Avenue in New York City's Midtown for a meeting with men of no small note. They include the bespectacled architect, Richmond H. Shreve, the immaculately mustachioed General Motors Titan, Pierre Dupont, the one year out of office former governor and recently defeated Democratic presidential candidate Al Smith, and finally another GM man, the Democratic National Committee chairman and Al's dear friend, John J. Raskop. This group intends to erect a new skyscraper

on Fifth Avenue, and even though Paul and William are already the contractors on the Manhattan Company Building, they hope to get this gig too. Walking into Al's suite of rooms on the Biltmore's 14th floor, the Starrett brothers find the former governor seated at the head of a table.

Blunt as ever, Al asks them, well, what have you got to say for yourselves? Paul jumps in. The bespectacled contractor carefully explains that he and his brother's firm bring a lot of New York skyscraper experience. With that experience, they'll work faster than others, saving Al and his colleagues so much money that their fee will feel insignificant.

This prompts Al to ask, How much is your fee? Six hundred thousand. That's your asking price? No, that's our real price. Al pushes back, pointing out all the advertising the brothers would get from this project. But unlike other builders,

the Stera brothers stand out by not caring. Paul replies, I've been in this business 40 years, Governor. I don't need that kind of advertising. When asked about equipment, Paul is certain that their competitors have lied and said that they already have what they need. But Paul wants to be truthful and to stand out. He goes the other way, telling them that they have, to quote his later written recollection, not a blankety blank thing, not even a pick and shovel.

The men are aghast. Paul continues, Gentlemen, this building of yours is going to present unusual problems. Ordinary building equipment won't be worth a damn on it. We'll buy new stuff, fit it for the job, and at the end, sell it and credit you with the difference. That's what we do on every big job. It costs less than renting secondhand stuff, and it's more efficient. What about subcontractors? Well, Paul can tell that other contractors are boasting of all the work they'll personally do. So once again, he goes against the grain. We won't do anything that we can sublet to advantage.

Once again, Al and his investor friends look on in shock. The brothers walk out of the hotel, afraid they'd bid too high and pushed their luck. But just as they return to their office, they get the call. They're hired to work on the Empire State Building. That same September, the Empire State Building is officially announced. The Starrett brothers and Andrew Eakin are the contractors, working with architects Richmond H. Shreve, William F. Lamb, and Arthur Loomis Harmon. The site is between 33rd and 34th streets on 5th Avenue, the current home of the city's beloved yet-dying hotel, the Waldorf Astoria.

Many a New Yorker is heartbroken to know this storied landmark of the city is slated for demolition. But so it goes. While Al Smith is the face of the project in many ways, General Motors man John Raskop is the real power broker behind the Empire State Building. General Motors man John Raskop is the real power broker behind the Empire State Building. Sticking it to both of his tallest building competitors, George Orstrom and fellow carmaker Walter Chrysler, John wants the building finished by May 1st, 1931. That's right, exactly one year after the Manhattan Company building at 40 Wall Street is slated for completion, and he keeps asking his team to go bigger, to go taller. They're planning for about 80 stories.

Meanwhile, William Van Allen is still hard at it on the Chrysler building, just as Craig Severance is still working on the Manhattan Company building. Neither of these rival architects are worrying about losing the race for the tallest skyscraper to this proposed Empire State Building, nor to each other. See, each thinks he has the other tricked. Craig, as we know, managed to file changes with the city discreetly. He is confident that the Manhattan Company building at 40 Wall Street has this in the

bag, especially as he revises one more time to add a lantern story and flagpole. But what he doesn't know, what very few know, is that William has one last trick up his sleeve too. It's October 23rd, 1929. Yesterday's hurricane-like winds have died down, and William Van Allen is with Walter Chrysler on Fifth Avenue, a few blocks distant from their colossal Chrysler building at the corner of Lexington Avenue and 42nd Street. They have to be a few blocks away. That's the only way they'll be able to watch the rise of their mighty spire, or to use Williams' word, the rise of their mighty vertex atop their beloved skyscraper. At this same moment, workmen are hard at it within

the uppermost reaches of the Chrysler building. Inside its multi-arched dome, they're riveting that spire or vertex together. Yes, it's so big they could only get it up here in five separate sections. Altogether, this 27-ton steel tower stands 185 feet tall. And now that it's assembled, it's time to reveal this unlikely sky-piercing needle to the world. Standing on wooden platforms on top of the building's dome, a dizzying 935 feet in the sky, workers manning a mobile crane of sorts, known as a derrick, lower lines to the vertex. Once the lines are connected and secured, cables churn through the derriff wheels, slowly inching

the star-spangled banner top to vertex upward and closer to its final destination. It's both astonishing and terrifying. If anything goes wrong, it could send several tons of steel crashing down on the unsuspecting city below. And boy does William know it. Watching his vertex start to rise on top of the Chrysler building from the street below, this awkward architect is said to experience four sinking spells, continuous vertigo, and three attacks of mal de mer. But everything continues without

an accident as the vertex reaches its full intended height. A foreman waves to the Derec Cruz signalman. He in turn rings a bell to alert the workers to stop. Now it's time for the steelworkers. Moving carefully but quickly amid the clouds, they line up the bottom section of the vertex with the top of the dome. This done, riveters race to officially connect the two pieces. Rivets glow bright orange in a coke stove, and once a placeholder bolt is removed, these red hot bolts are carefully placed into the depression. A buckerup braces a dollybar against the top of the rivet as a gunman pounds it in. And then the process starts all over

again for the next connection. At last, the work is done. The vertex is up. It took 90 minutes, and sticks out enough to add over 100 feet to the previously 935 foot tall skyscraper. The Chrysler building now stands at 1,046 feet. William Van Allen and Walter Chrysler have done it. Rising from a black granite limestone base to a mostly off-white brick tower, decorated with radiator cap inspired gargoyles, fender depicting brickwork, mounted hubcaps and other homages to the automobile, and continuing upward to that arched dome and needle-like vertex.

They have made the Chrysler building not only the tallest skyscraper in the world but the tallest man-made structure in the world by going even taller than the Eiffel Tower. And they've done it on the sly with this vertex, just as Williams said they would. To quote him, We'll lift the thing up and we won't tell them anything about it. And when it's up, we'll just be higher. That's all. Indeed, they made zero fanfare of the day and made no effort to alert the press. Indeed, they made zero fanfare of the day and made no effort to alert the press. Meanwhile, their building's secret stature is further aided by the stock market's crash

the next day, Thursday, October 24, 1929. Yes, you remember this dreary day from episode 170, I'm sure. Now, neither William nor Walter welcome the crash, but plummeting stocks do keep the press corps's attention temporarily away from the city's soaring skyscrapers. And that fiscal distraction is all part of why, as Craig Severance brings his Manhattan Company building at 40 Wall Street to its full height, he doesn't realize that he's already lost the race to his erstwhile partner.

Nor does the Manhattan Company building get to enjoy its topping out moment, free from incident. It's almost 12 noon, November 12th, 1929. A crowd throngs downtown New York City's 40 Wall Street. All are looking up, eagerly watching as crews place a steel cap atop what people think is the world's tallest skyscraper, the Manhattan Company Building. But wonder turns to horror when a hoist cable hauling a gargantuan piece of granite up the side of the all-but-complete skyscraper snaps. An engineer lets out a panicked yell to look out as the half-ton, 10-foot-wide chunk of

granite heads right for the spectators below. Everyone scrambles for cover as the block reaches the ninth floor, then crashes through wooden planks. James Bellis, a 35-year-old steam fitter, tries to dart away, but he's not quite fast enough to emerge scot-free. The block sends a wooden plank flying into his shoulder, fracturing it and throwing him on his back. Reaching the third floor, the granite splits in two as it strikes a steel beam.

One piece shatters as it reaches the first floor. The other turns toward the street, exploding upon impact. Shards fly. One pierces the window of an idling Rolls Royce outside 37 Wall Street, striking a young Helen Pratt. Another slices an 18-year-old office clerk's leg. Both are whisked away to the hospital, and according to a nearby officer, it's miraculous that no others were injured.

And yet, only one hour after the shocking and injurious scene, it's back to the day's task for 40 Wall Street, where, 900 feet above the sidewalk, a 60-foot-tall steel cap is placed above the pyramid-shaped cram. A flag is then perched on top of the steel rig, bringing the skyscraper to an impressive 927 feet. Workers embrace each other, and photographers snap photos as all celebrate what they think is a record-setting achievement. Four days later, on November 16, 1929, the Dow Services Daily Building Report

publishes the truth, the Chrysler Building is taller. Even though William Van Allen actually defeated his former partner, Craig Severance, nearly a month prior, news of the Chrysler Building's secret spire is just hitting. The best Craig can do is claim to have the tallest functioning building in the world for those brief few weeks in May 1930 when 40 Wall Street is finished and the Chrysler building is still getting its finishing touches. William Van Allen and Walter Chrysler have done it. In one unspecified afternoon, the duo go up their building, past the official

top 77th floor, and look out below on the city that they've managed to dwarf. It's a magnificent view. I can only imagine what the two men are thinking. Victory is theirs. If only they knew just how brief that victory would be. On November 19, 1930, former New York Governor Al Smith speaks to journalists about a variety of New York-related things. On everyone's mind, though, is the Empire State Building. Finally, he gets around to telling them, this building will be a monument to the dignity, power, growth, and wealth of the Imperial City of the Empire State.

Envisioned at 85 stories, the Empire State Building should beat out both the Chrysler Building and Forty Wall Street. It'd be hard to change either of them much at this point. Both were completed last May. The Empire State Building's observatory deck will also be significantly higher than that of the Chrysler Building's. Hal is further pleased with his building's location at the corner of 5th Avenue and 34th Street, which is one of the most bustling areas in the city.

It's near B. Altman, Tiffany & Company, Lord & Taylor, Arnold Constable, and Macy's. In short, it's prime real estate for foot traffic. The next month, the former governor makes another announcement. The Empire State Building is now expected to reach 1,300 feet high because it'll have a mooring mast at the top. To quote this announcement, the directors of the Empire State, Incorporated believe that in a comparatively short time, the Zeppelin airships will establish transatlantic, transcontinental, and trans-pacific lines, and possibly a route to South America from the port of New York. As the New York Times

explains, this means that, quote, the structure will be not only the tallest building in the world, but the first to be equipped for a future age of transportation that is now only a dream of pioneers in aviation. The mooring mast will add 200 feet to the original plans, giving the structure an advantage of 270 feet over the Chrysler building and 300 feet over the Eiffel Tower in Paris. Close quote. Now, is this mooring mast really practical? 70 feet over the Chrysler building, and 300 feet over the Eiffel Tower in Paris." Now is this mooring mast really practical?

Or is it just a good excuse for height that hides a gratuitous reach into the thinnest of air better than the Chrysler building's vertex does? Probably the latter, but in an era obsessed with the latest advance in air travel, oh, does it land with the public. And soon enough, the Empire State Building's design reaches the full height that we experienced in this episode's opening. To recap, it will have a five-story base that, with its tower, will go up 85 floors. Per zoning, the lower portion of the tower will have setbacks, slowly narrowing the building such that, the 30th floor the edifice will

only fill out a quarter of its enormous plot, thereby ensuring sunlight still reaches the streets below. And as we know, that last fully functional 85th floor isn't the end of the skyscraper's ascent. The 86th floor will have a magnificent observatory deck, after which the building will narrow yet again as it turns into the mooring mast for those much anticipated dirigibles, that is, those airships. Up here, this most skyscraping of skyscrapers will boast yet another observatory deck on the 102nd floor before reaching its final zenith with the 103rd floor for passengers

to board or disembark from airships. Ultimately, it'll occupy roughly 80,000 square feet and, thanks to its 200-foot-tall mooring mast, reach 1,454 feet into the sky. Indisputably, the Empire State Building will be the tallest skyscraper or man-made structure of any sort in the world. And now, we just have to build it. Just as Paul Starrett informed Al Smith and John Raskob back at their 1929 meeting, much of the building equipment is new and exciting. A railway system with cars being pushed by hand was designed to distribute the materials

across the site. Tracks are planned on every floor and hoists with four dozen similarly designed carts are ready to transport everything the workers need. Sheet iron, metal, wire, sand, lumber, pipe, mortar, and more. In January 1930, demolition of the Waldorf Astoria and foundation work are carried out simultaneously. Generously, they save mementos of the beloved hotel for its many sentimental former patrons, be that a piece of stained glass or the key to a fondly remembered honeymoon suite. Meanwhile, pure holes soon reach 40 feet down and concrete is poured into the footings that will eventually support steel beams. By the end of March, the concrete is poured, the steel frame has begun, and the Empire

State Building can begin its ascent. One month later, in April, 210 steel columns are set in stone. Some of these will rise continuously to the top of the building. On May 26, 1930, the steel frame reaches the 12th floor. Only 26 days later, June 21, the frame is at the 39th floor and the facing is at the 25th. It's mesmerizing to watch the crew work. Cranes hoist beams into place, steelworkers swing up into the air to put all the pieces together. New Yorkers gather on the streets below and watch these acrobatic feats.

The New Yorker remarks, quote, Like little spiders they toiled, spinning a fabric of steel against the sky, crawling, climbing, swinging, swooping, weaving a web that was to stretch farther heavenward than the ancient Tower of Babel, or than all the older towers of the modern Babel. Close quote. Many of these skywalkers, as they're called, are Mohawks of the Iroquois Confederacy. The Mohawks have a long history of ironwork, and many of New York City's most famous buildings are a result of their craftsmanship. The building is rising four and a half stories per week, which is significantly faster than any other building to date. As it continues upward, cafeterias are built on the third,, 9th, 24th, 47th, and 64th floors

to feed the hard-working men. As fall comes to its end, November 21, 1930, the last bits of structural steel are hoisted to the top of the dirigible mooring mast, and an American flag is raised to celebrate the feat. On September 19, 1930, steelworkers finish the 85th floor of the Empire State Building, officially beating both the Chrysler and Manhattan Company buildings. It only takes them 10 months to build up 1,048 feet. The American flag billows in the sky, and the New York Times calls it a, quote,

flag of triumph, close quote. By December 15, Empire State is being etched into the facade, and the scaffolding has come down. The project is moving along nicely. As all of this happens, John Raskop is launching a media campaign, hiring photographer Lewis Hine to document the poet builders and sky boys as they work high up in the heavens. A native of Oshkosh, Wisconsin, Lewis refers to his work as social photography. According to essayist, Freddie Langer, the gaunt and bespectacled photographer is, quote,

a reformer with a camera, convinced that hardship was the result of neither incompetence nor a lack of acidity and that poverty did not necessarily presuppose moral dubiousness. He ascribed prejudice to a lack of acidity, and that poverty did not necessarily presuppose moral dubiousness. He ascribed prejudice to a lack of enlightenment, which he tried to counteract by sensitizing the public to the social injustices of the economic system." Close quote.

You may know him from his famous lunch atop a skyscraper, but that photo won't be taken until next year in the midst of building Rockefeller Center, not the Empire State Building. All the same, let's get a closer look at this reformer with a camera's vision of the construction of the Empire State Building. It's April 11, 1931. With a camera slung over his shoulder, Lewis Hine climbs ladder after ladder, up and up, into the rising mooring mast.

He's near the 100th floor of the Empire State Building. Reflecting back later, Lewis writes that the quote-unquote air-treaders told him that, quote, It isn't really as dangerous as it looks. It's safer up here than it is down below. Huh, I'm not sure if I agree, but Lewis presses on. Hooked to a safety line tied to a derrick, the photographer balances on one of the skinny steel beams.

His critical and artistic eyes survey the scene, looking for the best angle to capture this historic moment as these fearless workers drive the Empire State Building's final rivets. He sees it, but it's a terrifying position. Oh, but how can he not take the shot? Leaning on the wisdom of the air-treading, sky-walking men up here, Lewis decides that he will push past his trepidation and common sense.

He'll trust his safety line, all in the name of giving us, quote, a glimpse of a workman driving one of the last rivets on the mooring mast. Close quote. Preparing to let his legs dangle almost a quarter of a mile above the city, Lewis swings out from the Empire State Building. He sees the Chrysler Building, still the world's tallest completed building for the moment, far off in the distance.

In the distance below, that is. Wow. But back to the task at hand. Lewis points his camera at two men. In overalls, a thick shirt, gloves, and a backward newsboy's cap. One kneels on a steel plate as he positions his pneumatic rivet gun on it. The other appears to be holding something in place as his hands disappear under the plate. Neither seems bothered by the dangers of the job, and Louis manages to snap a

candid picture without them seeing or even realizing he's there. Many of Lewis's photos are similar to this one. At dizzyingly high heights, he captures the sight of two fedora clad supervisors dangling in a basket above the skyline. A man straddling a steel beam, wearing work gloves yet no harness, tightening bolts at a terrific height. A shirtless man with a bandana on his head, leaning against a corner beam with nothing to secure him while casually smoking a cigarette on his brake. Two men perched atop girders being hoisted into the air with nothing but sky behind them. And a connector climbing a cable to secure a girder with nothing

but planks below him. Many of these photos have the Chrysler building in the background, where it looks dwarfed and insignificant. It's a fantastic perspective for the photos that I'm willing to bet Walter Chrysler doesn't appreciate. Anyhow, if you haven't seen these photos for yourself, I highly encourage checking them out after the episode. They're breathtaking, and even a touch anxiety-producing. After his Empire State Building series culminates in the photo we just heard about, Lewis remarks,

I have always avoided daredevil exploits and do not consider these experiences as going quite that far, but they have given me a new zest and perhaps a different note in my interpretation of industry. The Empire State Building is effectively done, and on April 16, 1931, John Razcob, Al Smith, and their colleagues host a celebratory dinner for various dignitaries and contractors. The menu for this boy's night, and yes, not a single woman is invited, reads in part. Far above the sidewalks of New York soars the Empire State. To the public, it is a mighty symbol,

a supreme expression of man the builder. To those who have participated in its making, it has been a great adventure, an adventure made possible by the vision and scientific knowledge that can turn dreams into stone and steel. The makers of the Empire State are here tonight. The owners, whose faith was an inspiration.

The architects, whose boldness and simplicity of design was the solution of unprecedented problems. The builders, who brought skill, speed, and unselfish cooperation to their task. To each comes the thrill of participation. To each comes the pride and accomplishment. It's a well-enjoyed evening, but of course, as we know from this episode's opening, the public gets its day too. On May 1st, 1931, former Governor Al Smith and his sweet grandchildren stand before a thronging crowd as they officially dedicate and open the Empire State Building as the world's newest, tallest man-made structure. So sorry Walter Chrysler and William Van Allen, I'm afraid your building has lost the title after less

than one year. But before we wrap on this competition for the skies, we have to explore one last aspect of the Empire State Building. The Mooring Mast. Did it ever really work? Let's find out. It's mid-afternoon, September 29, 1931, and a height-defying repairman, or a steeplejack, named Ellis Lewis is as high up on the Empire State Building as one can go. He's standing on top of the mooring mast on the 103rd floor's upside-down saucer-shaped roof. Just below him, on the 103rd floor's narrow, harrow-petted path, is Goodyear's chief rigger, Andrew Kelly. A few big shots and dignitaries like John Raskop, Al Smith, and members of the press

are on the 103rd floor as well. Yet, despite being 1,450 feet high, they're all still looking higher still at the Goodyear Blimp Columbia, floating another 100 feet up. Yes, this most famous of airships is putting the Empire State Building's mooring mast to the test this afternoon. But things aren't off to a great start. For the past hour or so, the Columbia has swayed to and fro above the mooring mast. Twice now, Ellis Lewis has tried to grab its mooring rope, and twice it's fluttered away from him. Is the wind simply too strong up here to pull this off? Well, third time's the charm, right?

Once again, the blimp closes in, and this time, Ellis manages to seize the elusive cord. It's about the same time that another rope dangling from the blimp with a bundle of newspapers thuds against the building. Chief Rigger, Andrew Kelly, reaches for it as he calls out, hold my legs, somebody, in case I get pulled. John Raskop quickly does so,

after which the emboldened chief rigger actually leans over the wind swept parapet and seizes the newspapers. With the bundle secured, he pulls a pin knife and cuts them free from the blimp's rope. Meanwhile, our steeplejack is still fighting the winds to dock the blimp. A huge gust pushes the airship, pulls the rope top, and lifts Ellis two feet off the building's inverted saucer-like roof.

The daring Steeplejack lets go, dropping on top of the mooring mast with a clatter. Well, the Goodyear Blimp may have failed to prove that airships can make berth on the Empire State Building, but it did deliver newspapers. And that's all the victory a seasoned politician like Al Smith needs. He quickly descends to the 86th floor's observatory deck and gives a rousing speech to hundreds of onlookers and broadcasters about this first ever air delivery. Good spin, Al, and great delivery stunt. But this is as successful as the mooring mast will ever be with airships, particularly when interest in them dies down in six years after the Hindenburg explodes on May 6th, 1937. But let's be honest, none of the men behind this building really care. The mooring

mast is still serving its real purpose, which is adding 200 feet to the Empire State Building's height and thereby crushing the Chrysler Building, or any likely soon challenges for the title of the tallest building. Yes, in this regard, the Mooring Mast is a screaming success. And so, the race for the skies has ended. The Manhattan Company Building at 40 Wall Street has come in last, while the Chrysler Building's brief moment in the sun was quickly eclipsed by the rise of the Empire State Building. Nonetheless, each is an extraordinary work.

For one thing, the relatively few lives lost in their construction is an incredible feat. Despite rumors and claims of a high death count, like the communist-run New Masses magazine asserting in June 1931 that, quote, 42 men killed constructing the new Empire State Building. Close quote. Only five or possibly six of the roughly 5,600 men who worked on the Empire State Building, from demolition to completion, lost their lives on the job. Meanwhile, four men died building the Manhattan Company Building, and the Chrysler building rose without any deaths. In other words, fewer men died building all three of these skyscrapers combined, than in the construction of any one of the other engineering feats examined in recent episodes,

including the Golden Gate Bridge, so lauded for the safety precautions that its chief engineer, Joe Strauss, voluntarily employed. lauded for the safety precautions that its chief engineer, Joe Strauss, voluntarily employed. Moreover, the assumed death rate for building skyscrapers in this era was one for every floor above the 15th. Statistically then, scores should have died on every single building. All that to say, the low death count is impressive and a testament to the skywalking workers' skill. The speed at which these buildings went up was likewise astounding. These, the tallest buildings in the world, each constructed in under two years. Of course, they didn't have all the regulations that we do in the 21st century, but as we saw, zoning had come into existence.

It speaks to the innovation, sheer workforce creativity, and drive of the planners, architects, contractors, and others involved. These buildings also speak to the pride, if not hubris, of the men behind them. Men like Walter Chrysler, John Raskol, Al Smith, the Starrett brothers, and of course, the warring formerly aligned architects William Van Allen and Craig Severance. Nonetheless, their competitive drive led to innovation. It made New York's skyline visible proof

of just how advanced American engineering had become, as each of these men reached for the skies in the most figurative and literal of ways. And indeed, with these three buildings, the skyline of New York City is forever changed. It's not until December, 1970, when the North Tower of the World Trade Center reaches 1,368 feet that the Empire State Building loses its title as the tallest building in

the world. But that story, the story of the World Trade Center, is a tale for a much, much later day. Nonetheless, we aren't done soaring to new heights in the 1930s. Next time, we're meeting up with the air's most daring aviators, pilots like Charles Lindbergh and Amelia Earhart, as we push even higher into the wild blue yonder. It's time to see American aviation truly come of age. History That Doesn't Suck is created and hosted byitten by Greg Jackson and Riley Neumauer. Production by Airship. Sound Design by Molly Bach. Theme music composed by Greg Jackson. Arrangement and additional

composition by Lindsey Graham of Airship. For a bibliography of all primary and secondary sources consulted in writing this episode, visit HTVspodcast.com. HTVS is supported by fans at HTVspodcast.com slash membership. I gratitude you kind souls providing funding to help us keep going, thank you. And special thanks to our patrons whose monthly gift puts them at producer status. Ahmad Chapman, Andy Thompson, Hart Lane, Bob Stinnett, Brad Davidson, Bronwyn Cohen, Bruce

Hibbert, Carissa Sedlec, Charlie Mages, Chloe Tripp, Christopher Merchant, Christopher Pullman, Dan Gee, David Rifkin, Durante Spencer, Donald Moore, Ellen Stewart, Elizabeth Christiansen, El Chiviado, Bernie Lowmaster, G2303, George J. Sherwood, Henry Brunges, Polly Hamilton, Jake Gilbreth, James Bledsoe, Janie McCreary, Jeff Marks, Jessica Poppett, Joe Dobes, John Booby, John Frugal-Dugal, John Oliveros, John Ridlewicz, John Schaeffer, Jonathan Turrell, Jordan Corbett,

Joshua Steiner, Justin M. Spriggs, Justin May, K, Kim R, Kim Reniger, Kristen Pratt, Kyle Decker, L. Paul Goinger, Lawrence Neubauer, Linda Cunningham, Matt Siegel, Melanie Jahn, Nate Seconder, Nick Cafferow, Noah Hoff, ONW Sedlec, Rhys Humphreys Wadsworth, Rick Brown, Robert Drazovich, Sarah Trewhitt, Sharon Beeson, Sean Baines, Stacey Ritter, Stephen Williams, The Creepy Girl, Thomas Sabbath, Zach Greene, and Zach Jackson. Join me in two weeks. I'd like to tell you a story.