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MONUMENTAL LANDSCAPES |
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THE PARTHENON OF NASHVILLE
A common practice in the history of North America's settlement since the arrival of European colonists has been the commemoration of the Old World. To the casual observer, it may be most obvious with place names or "toponyms." New Jersey, for example.
In many cases, the "new" versions of the old places have little physical or cultural resemblance to their respective namesakes, but at least the original sentiments of respect and remembrance are pervasively memorialized on road maps, "Welcome to ..." signs at the edges of towns, and on City Hall stationary.
Then there is the case of architectural replication. From the German barns of southeastern Pennsylvania to the Spanish missions of coastal California, immigrants brought with them Old World architectural styles and replicated them across continent. In some cases, they did this because it was all they really knew. In other cases, they did this because they wanted to diffuse an Old World tradition or idea through building design and uses.
Over time and across space, however, European styles quickly evolved and mutated for reasons of environmental practicality or fickle American tastes (4, 5). The diffusion of architecture in the USA take some humorously strange directions, too. The early style of Taco Bell, as crazy it may seem, is a distant relative of the Spanish missions built in California over 200 years ago (6). If you go yet one step further, you can now find certain contemporary Mediterranean-style house designs described by critics as "Taco Bell architecture" (7).
In the American South, the sensibilities of Old World traditions and values have long been celebrated by Greek Revival architecture. Upscale residences -- plantation houses, in particular -- have long used that style's combination of gabled roofs, cornice lines with wide and divided trim, and Doric columns.
But a little over one hundred years ago, the leading citizens of Nashville, Tennessee went just a bit further in their efforts to commemorate the world of ancient Greece.
Originally a river trading post, Nashville had evolved into a relatively prosperous and advanced city by the mid 19th-century. As in other southern locales, upscale houses (such as plantation mansions) were designed with Greek Revival styles. The state capitol, completed in 1859, also adorned this motif. But, in Nashville, Greek Revival was more than just a form of architectural fashion. It was part of its way of thinking -- almost literally. After the Civil War, the city became a leading center of higher education in the Upland South with the founding of Fisk University, Vanderbilt University, Peabody College, and Meharry Medical College. Through these institutions, Nashville became known as "The Athens of the South." (8).
While the dedication to learning and Greek Revival architecture in and around Nashville certainly helped reinforce the conceptual link between it and ancient Athens, local boosters thought they should go a step further. In the last decade of the 19th century, they commissioned the construction of a temporary but full-scale plaster replica of the original Greek Parthenon to help commemorate the Tennessee Centennial Exposition (1896-97).
So enamored by the structure, the city attempted to maintain the plaster-encased structure for years after the exposition ended, but the combination of time and weather took its toll. In an effort to save the Parthenon for the ages, the city government teamed up with local architect Russell Hart and architectural historian William Bell Dinsmoor in 1920 to begin a campaign to rebuild the structure in more-lasting materials. They chose the era's new marvel material -- concrete -- for much of the structure and made great efforts to meticulously match friezes and interior designs to the original. Despite a series of financial crises, the project was completed in 1931. Construction of a full-sized, 42-foot statue of Athena (another component of the original in Greece) began in 1982 and was completed in 1990 (9).
What may be most interesting about this is that while Nashvillians made great efforts at architectural replication to promote its role as a center of learning by building and then rebuilding the Parthenon, the city's identity and cultural leadership changed. While higher education is still a significant component of the city's infrastructure, it has been subsumed by a flashier form of non-material culture. Aristotle, Plato, Socrates -- say hello to Garth, Dolly, and Willie.
Nashville no longer really calls itself "The Athens of the South." It's now "Music City, USA."
But, in some way, this whole process of replication continues. Like the original in Athens, the Parthenon of Nashville is now, too, just a museum piece that commemorates a seemingly-obsolete culture that was overwhelmed and brushed aside by brash newcomers who had a whole different set of priorities. The Parthenon no longer commemorates Athens, it commemorates Nashville. |