Small and Mighty Mecca of Modern Architecture in Columbus, Indiana

Morning sun glints off the Robert Stewart Bridge as we drive on Indiana State Road 46 above the White River at the entrance to Columbus, Indiana. Like a giant fan, four fire-engine-red steel supports connect 40 steel tension cables spread in orderly fashion along the roadway.

I’m so taken with the suspension bridge’s soaring drama and clean-lined form that I gasp in disbelief when I glimpse what lies ahead.

In a startling juxtaposition of old and new and streamlined and ornate, this contemporary bridge from 1999 perfectly frames the three-story Bartholomew County Courthouse from 1874. The Second Empire-style red brick behemoth possesses a mansard roof, Indiana limestone trim, corner pavilions, a Corinthian portico, and a 154-foot-tall clock tower.

“WOW!” I exclaim to my husband, Bill. “Now that’s an eye-popping front door to a city!”

Such a bold, even eccentric, pairing of airy contemporary bridge and weighty historic building makes a fitting gateway to Columbus. I’m starting to get why the Columbus Visitors Center claims the city is “unlikely,” “unexpected,” and “improbable.”

With a population of just 46,000, Columbus, Indiana, is ranked an astonishing sixth in the nation for Architectural Innovation and Design by the American Institute of Architects, right behind Chicago, New York, San Francisco, Boston, and Washington, D.C. Further, Columbus is home to seven buildings designated as National Historic Landmarks by the National Park Service – an extraordinary number given its size. Most of downtown Columbus is on the National Register of Historic Places. As a whole, Columbus has more than 70 buildings designed by internationally renowned architects – I.M. Pei, Eliel and Eero Saarinen (father and son), Richard Meier, César Pelli, and Harry Weese among them.

Well-known figures in public art and green spaces have left their enduring marks on Columbus as well, including artists Dale Chihuly and Robert Indiana, and landscape architect Dan Kiley.

For years, I’ve known of the reputation of Palm Springs, California, as the capital of desert modernism. That Columbus, Indiana, is a midwestern modernist cousin had eluded me.

How, I wonder, did the relatively small community of Columbus, Indiana, seize what apparently was a far-fetched destiny and transform itself into an acclaimed showcase of modern architecture, one that attracts 50,000 annual visitors?

We’re about to find out as we board a bus at the Visitors Center for a 90-minute, drive-by tour past some 40 significant structures and works of art. We’ll bookend the ride with looks at the interiors of two buildings. Interestingly, both are Saarinen-designed churches, the first by the father, the second by the son.

Big names remake small town of Columbus, Indiana

Columbus of today owes its storied existence to the late J. Irwin Miller, chairman and CEO of then-Cummins Engine Company (now Cummins Inc.), a leading maker of diesel engines headquartered in Columbus. Additionally, he served as chairman of Irwin Union Bank.

In the early 1940s, Miller belonged to a congregation that wanted a contemporary church building. He approached Finnish-born, American-based architect Eliel Saarinen about the job. A life-long friendship was born, along with First Christian Church. Completed in 1942 and with a simple geometric design, the church was the first contemporary building in Columbus and one of the first churches of contemporary architecture in the U.S.

Irwin believed in the power of architecture to improve humanity.

“Everyone of us lives and moves all his life within the limitations, sight and influences of architecture…(it) affects our lives, our standards, our tastes when we are grown,” he said.

Thanks to the post-war baby boom, the population of Columbus, Indiana, was expanding. Miller leveraged architecture to position Columbus as forward-thinking to foster growth and lure an elite workforce.

Armed with a singular vision and financial means, Miller encouraged the school corporation to employ modern architects to design new schools as a counterpoint to the standard, yet ho-hum, ones rapidly rising across the U.S. He proposed a partnership: The Cummins Foundation would donate architects’ design fees if schools selected architects from Cummins’ curated list of prominent modernists.

The first grant went to Lillian C. Schmitt Elementary School in 1957. Other schools followed, as did a variety of public buildings. Private businesses, citizens, and civic organizations joined the act, choosing world-class architects for their offices, factories, homes, and churches.

Embracing Mid-Century Modern style before the movement became hip, Columbus, Indiana, began morphing into a living architectural museum.

On the roads

Guide Kerry Richmond first leads our small group onto a breezy, sun-lit plaza outside the Visitors Center. At left is the Cleo Rogers Memorial Library, opened in 1969 as the first civic space downtown. Like First Christian Church across the street, it’s an asymmetric mix of hard lines and rectangles. Softening their edges is the 20-foot-tall, five-ton “Large Arch” bronze by Henry Moore, a sculpture that easily could have defected from the standing stones of Stonehenge in Moore’s native England.

Kerry ushers us past First Christian’s 166-foot-high freestanding bell tower, inside the church, and down the purposely designed off-center aisle of the sanctuary. I feel serene amid soft-handed décor. The pews, baptistry, pulpit, and communion table are crafted from blonde wood. Floor-to-ceiling windows (no stained glass) bathe the room in natural light, and a 27-foot-tall tapestry in pale tones depicts the Sermon on the Mount.

Once aboard the van, Kerry points out landmark buildings, art, and spaces, reciting their features and fun facts in a lively delivery.

Block by block, our heads swivel in response to his directions to look right and now left, as the bus sways, stops, accelerates, and turns with the flow of traffic.

We watch ourselves drive by the AT&T Switching Station, thanks to silver reflective material that architect Paul Kennon wrapped around the building to mirror the surrounding streets and sky. For a fleeting moment down an alley, we spot …Giant Crayola crayons? Supersized organ pipes? Wrong on both counts. These tall stacks in playful blue, red, orange, and yellow are color-coded to designate the air intake and exhaust system.

Dessa Kirk’s sculpture “Eos,” an evocative steel and fiberglass figure of a winged Greek goddess, fronts an ordinary street median. Celestial being or not, she needs protective skin care every three years – a rubdown with boiled linseed oil.

Our route through the 85-acre riverfront Mill Race Park takes us by the 19-mile People Trail, a haven for runners and walkers. An 1840 covered bridge, picnic shelters, lakes, and an amphitheater dot the lush landscape. A stainless steel and glass block restroom exudes a sly sense of humor – the roof forms both a W and an M to identify sides.

Cummins’ corporate office is a whopping three-blocks long. The post office was the first in the country designed by a major architect whose fees were privately funded.  The glass-fronted Commons houses an indoor, year-round playground. Besides the kinetic sculpture called “Chaos I” by Jean Tinguely, the Commons boasts the amazing Lucky Climber. We spy kids safely scrambling up 50 curved platforms held in place by steel columns, roping, and six miles of aircraft cable to reach the top of this 35-foot tall jungle gym.

Originally, passersby at the windowed building of The Republic could watch presses in action printing the daily newspaper. City Hall is a triangular building, with one side meeting in a sharp point. Inmates at the Bartholomew County jail exercise outdoors within an enclosed second-story space resembling a birdcage – an obvious obstacle to passing contraband.

Onward we roll, gazing at modernist medical buildings, tech centers, sports facilities, high-density residences, churches, and schools – all masterworks, all one of a kind.

Our final stop is the six-sided, oil-can-shaped North Christian Church. Its low, sloping lines accentuate the 192-foot-tall spire topped with a gold-leaf cross. Inside, the primary light source is an oculus in the ceiling, and towering organ pipes dominate the sanctuary. Outside stand a grove of saucer magnolias and allées of red sunset maples, their rangy, bare ranches awaiting spring’s bloom.

Surely, it’s a rare place that blends world-class architecture with small-town charm. Columbus, Indiana, has perfected the formula. Miller’s brainchild for The Cummins Foundation continues today, with more than 50 sponsored projects.

Another adjective the Visitors Center uses to describe its modern mecca is “unforgettable.” Captivated by the story of this little city that could, I add “inspiring.”

We participated in the tour courtesy of the Columbus Visitors Center. The experiences and story are my own. The Visitors Center provided several photos, among them: Bridge by Gregory Boege; Republic Newspaper by Steve Risting; and Irwin Conference Center by Don Nissen.