When New York City’s Idlewild Airport (now John F. Kennedy International) first opened in 1948, the city recognized that its planning and scale were already inadequate for the rising volumes of air travel foreseen in the coming decades (Ringli 50). The subsequent expansion plan, finalized in 1955 by architect Wallace K. Harrison, allowed major airlines to construct their own separate terminals along a central loop road.

The reputation of carrier Trans World Airlines (TWA) suffered from the company’s delayed entry into the jet travel market, falling quickly behind amid fierce competition in the postwar travel boom (Ringli 27). Seeking to compensate, TWA transformed their corporate presentation to foster an image of striking innovation and world class prestige (Ringli 28). To this end, the company recognized the value of a distinguished and alluring flagship terminal at Idlewild, commissioning eminent architect Eero Saarinen to design their new home within a year of Harrison’s announced plan (Ringli 191). 

Eero Saarinen and Associates were tasked with accommodating all the practical operations of a modern international air terminal within a package that, “would provide TWA with advertising and publicity attention” (Ringli 79). Across four years of intense research and design, the firm worked to synthesize the technical and commercial-aesthetic ends of the future terminal, producing a final building which captured the “experience and anticipation of flight” throughout all aspects of its dramatic outward appearance and unified interior environment (Prudon 427).

Of the terminal’s two proposed flight wings, only one was constructed by the time of its 1962 opening. The latter north wing was completed in 1967 by Kevin Roche John Dinkeloo and Associates, the successor firm to Eero Saarinen and Associates (Ringli 192). The ground level arrival and departure wings were expanded twice to increase luggage capacity, first with mirrored additions to the rear of both wings in 1970, and later with a dedicated baggage handling building appended to the south wing in 2000 (Song 6).

Trans World Airlines was dissolved following its acquisition by American Airlines in April of 2001, leaving the terminal vacant by October of that year (Ringli 192). As new custodians of the property, the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey commissioned architects Beyer Blinder Belle to prepare a comprehensive “Restoration and Rehabilitation Plan” to guide prospective developers interested in the Authority’s “Request for Proposal” offering on the building (Song 17). This initial 2002 plan favored the terminal’s integration within future airline operations at the site, with the noted potential of preserving the endangered flight wings, in addition to the more securely protected headhouse. When construction of a new Jetblue terminal on TWA’s tarmac frontage was announced in 2004, the feasibility of preserving the flight wings was drastically reduced. Despite a proposed compromise which would have amputated and relocated the two “trumpet” structures at the terminus of the south flight wing, both wings were demolished entirely; sparing only the iconic ferrocement connecting tubes, now joined to the Gensler designed Jetblue terminal, completed in 2008 (Song 12,16).

In 2014 Beyer Blinder Belle returned to the site to undertake a sensitive restoration of the terminal's interiors with funding from the Port Authority. A contract was awarded to MCR Development LLC later that year to convert the TWA terminal into the lobby and centerpiece of a luxury hotel complex (Song 15). MCR retained Beyer Blinder Belle to thoughtfully adapt the terminal interiors for the new hotel program, and hired Lubrano Ciavarra Architects to design two six-story curtain wall hotel blocks wrapping either side of the building with an underground conference center excavated between them. The single story 1970 and 2000 additions, which were never landmarked, were removed as part of the hotel conversion (Song 11).

The TWA Flight Center building currently serves as the lobby, lounge, and dining hall of the MCR operated TWA Hotel; as well as an alternative entrance to Jetblue’s JFK Terminal 5 facility.

Restoration of the TWA terminal lay at the heart of Beyer Blinder Belle’s hotel conversion for the site. Having already secured the building’s structure and envelope during their 2002 assessment project, the firm’s hotel conversion was carried out with sensitive regard towards the terminal’s iconic interiors. While sensible changes have affected original air travel aspects of the program, such as the removal of baggage carousels and the conversion of ticketing desks to concession stands, most of the dining and retail spaces have returned to their former lives. Although the Raymond Loewy interiors of the Paris Cafe and Lisbon Lounge restaurants were not reproduced, the venues were revived with thoughtful period decor featuring an abundance of Saarinen designed furniture. The lounges and circulation spaces were restored to their former glamor, enlivened by reproductions of the original carpeting and upholstery, along with sensitive details including authentic signage and fixtures. A closed off pedestrian plaza was constructed to the east of the building, and new dedicated parking facilities to the west, isolating the terminal from the chaos and unpredictability of the broader airport.

The TWA Flight Center was designed for a narrow wedge lot at the eastern corner of Idlewild’s original access loop. The dramatic profile seen on approach gives way to a likewise dynamic sequence of spaces within, routing passengers from the streetfront marquee to their boarding gates with fluidity and flair unprecedented in airports of the day. 

At its most basic, the terminal reduces to three key elements: the freestanding main passenger hall, the bookend arrival and departure wings, and the since demolished flight wings. Rising as the visual core of the building, the passenger hall shell consists of four intersecting concrete vaults. Flaring out from a common junction at the building’s center, the vaults each rest on two of the structure’s four concrete buttresses, then narrow again as they approach their cantilevered perimeter profiles. An inflected lip along the vaults’ edges serves to channel rainwater and contributes aesthetically to the building’s upward aspirations, while skylight bands seal the narrow gaps which separate the vaults’ inner contours. In the faceted forms of the four massive roof buttresses, the complex stresses and incredible weight of the vast free span hall are resolved in graceful curving branches, twisting to meet the earth in as seamless and organic a gesture as their juncture with the vaults above. The pair of buttresses on the street face form the boundaries of a grand entrance beneath the westward projecting shell. The larger buttresses to the east abut the panoramic observation lounge window, and diverge with sufficient width to fit the 16' 2'' (ID) passenger tubes between their branches. 

With the appearance of a mesh wrapped around the cavernous space, the structurally independent and custom fabricated glazing system frees the concrete shell and flowing interior topography from the constraints of a standardized window module. The mullions rise on gently swelling steel trusses, anchored to rails which line the irregular contours of the roof and floor. Consistent in character but flexible in application, the system adds another dimension of sculptural expression to the building, as its volumetric expression complements the angles and geometry of the building’s shell.

The single story arrival and departure wings flank the shell structure north and south, curving outward to straddle the gentle turn of Idlewild’s original circulation road. Their streetside facades are sculpted with lightweight ferrocement, fusing the roof, wall, and eave into a continuous sheltered marquee through one sweeping gesture. Sculptural expression continues with the curvilinear ribs which rise from the wall surface to frame the doors lining each wing, as well as with the purely decorative but formally powerful buttress walls at their terminus. The tarmac facing walls of the arrival and departure wings curve to the same direction as those on the street side, resulting in a horn shaped plan between them. The surfaces of the rear walls are left without the exuberant treatment of the front. 

Beneath the shell of the main passenger hall, the abutting arrival and departure wings penetrate the space as freestanding structures. Integrated seamlessly with the flowing interior terrain, however, they are as much a part of the hall as they are distinct buildings in their own right. In the chasm between the two wings, a central axis of circulation channels travelers between the street and tarmac sides of the building via a gently rising grand staircase. The cavernous ticketing and baggage drop lobby of the departures wing empties onto the street side of the main hall from the south, while the baggage claim of the arrivals wing mirrors it to the north. The walls and ceiling of each lobby merge in a continuous swelling surface faced with acoustic tile, and are illuminated by suspended fluorescent ribbons, each following the curve of its respective wing and terminating in a freestanding concrete wave, rising from the grand staircase at either side of its base. Between the wing lobbies, and centered in line with the staircase, is the main information desk, rising gracefully from the floor and blossoming into an elliptical display board at its rear. As with much of the integrated furnishing and sculpture, the desk’s concrete surfaces are dressed with the same 3⁄8'' circular marble tiles used to pave the floor in all uncarpeted areas. 

Curving switchback steps to either side of the main staircase summit, lift passengers to the mezzanine spaces atop the arrival and departure wings. An enclosure of sculpted plaster and tiled surfaces sits at the center of each plateau, rising in a coherent thrust from matching profiles on the level below, which open into concession and retail areas off the main concourse. The north of the elevated structures contains bathrooms, an elevator, service staircase, and four enclosed lounges, along with a kitchen serving a bar along its exterior. The south enclosure hosts the kitchen for the terminal’s two main restaurants, the Paris Cafe and Lisbon Lounge, along with another elevator and service stairwell. The two mezzanines are joined with a concrete bridge passing over the main staircase, and connect back to the floor below with an additional pair of mirrored staircases curving inward towards the sunken lounge along the building’s east perimeter. Nestled behind either of the expressive bridge columns are respective phone booth alcoves, each leading into one of the terminal’s two central bathrooms housed beneath by the mezzanine.

Resting four steps below the main concourse, the sunken lounge’s plan occupies the rough profile of a heart stretched width wise, with the tip oriented east towards the tarmac. A refuge where movement lulls amid the foot traffic, the lounge is softer in character than the surrounding spaces. The area is carpeted and furnished with integrated upholstered seating, both features it shares with the similarly calm atmosphere of the mezzanine above. The busy pedestrian currents of the connecting tubes flow on either side of the lounge, but the sunken space is partially sheltered by the descending mezzanine staircases and two sculptural “air fountain” ducts which rise just beyond the lounge steps. Complementary to the elevated character of the air supply towers, the main air returns take the form of sunken elliptical cavities, wrapped by the western mezzanine staircases and each covered with a metal grille that diffuses the ceiling-targeted spotlights additionally housed within. 

The red carpet lined connecting tubes feature curving plastered walls and fluorescent lighting, concealed along either side of a narrow acoustic-tile drop ceiling running the walkway’s length. The departure lounges in the demolished flight wings were furnished with tile faced and cushioned concrete benches, whose tall backrests served a dual role in separating the departure gates from the arterial walkways. 

Conceived as a “total work”, the terminal’s spirit of intense plasticity extends to the rich detailing found throughout. The globe lamp signage, tubular railings, integrated furniture, and custom lighting fixtures speak to a thoroughly deliberate design, conscientious of its occupants and their place within.

An astounding volume of detailed communication was exchanged between designers and laborers in order to translate Saarinen’s Jet Age vision into the handcrafted processes by which it was realized. The finalized form of the building was reached first through a process of physical modeling, with technical drawings later derived from the three dimensional results. Since, “conventional plan and elevation drawings would not have given enough dimensional information,” more than 130 contour map drawings of the shell structure were produced for contractor Grove Shepherd Wilson & Kruge, who then derived hundreds more working drawings to communicate with the carpenters who fabricated the inordinately complex formwork. (Architectural Forum, August. 1960). The board markings on the buttresses were left exposed, displaying the fine craftsmanship of the conventionally trained carpenters behind the work. Before pouring the vaults, early computation was used to determine the height of the supporting scaffolding posts with no more than ¼'' deviation from the drawings. When the monolithic pour was completed, the vaults were coated with a layer of acoustical spray foam on their interior surfaces. 

The flight wing tubes were constructed using a lightweight ferrocement shell sprayed over a steel frame and raised on tapering concrete piers. The low rise lobby wings are supported with reinforced concrete framing, and faced with ferrocement on their western facade.

The TWA Flight Center’s original neighbors were the 1957 SOM designed Idlewild International Arrivals Building to the southwest, and 1969 I.M. Pei designed Sundrome terminal to the northwest. Due east lay the 220 acres of landscaped parks, monumental reflecting pool, chapel, and five parking lots which filled the interior of Idlewild’s original loop road (Architectural Record, September. 1961). 

The JFK airport of 2024 has drastically changed from the Idlewild of the 1950s. Although the access road still follows roughly the same loop as Harrison’s original plan, the TWA building is isolated from relation to the rest of the airport, hidden between JetBlue’s Terminal 5 to the east, a parking garage to the west, and the new TWA Hotel towers to the north and south. A dedicated TWA Hotel parking lot buffers the building from the JFK Access Road to the west, and an enclosed plaza for hotel patrons separates it from the Terminal 5 arrivals loop to the east.

The TWA Flight Center marks an essential chapter in the history of shell based construction and the evolution of airport design. Reimagining a building class already at the forefront of technology and aesthetics, Saarinen’s terminal pushed contemporary developments in structure and space to new experimental extents, leaving a thorough and deliberate statement on the technical possibilities of expression and movement in modern architecture.  

Committed to renewing the vitality and relevance of his discipline, but weary of arbitrary or impatient routes to innovation, Saarinen’s attentive concern for new technologies and inclination towards fresh programmatic challenges were key to grounding his creative output in the realities of his time (Temko 33, Serraino 12). In the case of TWA, Saarinen’s interest in thin shell technology proved an ideal complement to the program’s call for an alluring architectural package to house the activities of the air terminal. 

Typical trends in early shell design expressed an ethic of analytical determinism, reflecting decades of practice confined largely to the domain of civil engineering and industrial or military contexts (MacMillan 178). As the medium spread to new civic and commercial applications following the Second World War, architects sought to assimilate its versatile properties into the emerging vocabulary of modernism (MacMillan 260). Warped planes, with both compressive and tensile properties, lent themself to Saarinen’s professional search, offering an avenue of liberation from orthogonal rigor and an escape from the conventional hierarchies of structure. He was skeptical, however, that the widespread sudden enthusiasm owed as much to matters of performance and economy as was so often attributed, commenting in 1957, “I think, the reason these are being built now and why we are interested is really aesthetic and not economic; and we should face that” (Ringli 84).

Approaching shell design as, “more a problem related to sculpture than mathematics,” Saarinen’s first venture into the medium came with MIT’s Kresge Auditorium of 1950-55. (Ringli 83, Serraino 37).  The building’s form, a perfect eighth of a sphere, marked a rupture with the performance based science of leading architect-engineers like Pier Luigi Nervi and Felix Candela, enclosing the space with a shell informed foremost by pure geometry, rather than optimized metrics (Temko 29). While it marked an advance towards new frontiers of expression, Saarinen was particularly critical of the project in retrospect. He came to regret the scaleless quality of the rational shape, and conceded that his appeal to elementary geometry, while graceful, “did not have the soaring quality or sense of lightness that one wanted” (Temko 29, 42).

With the TWA commission, Saarinen addressed these earlier shortcomings with masterful and unexpected intensity. The shell not only responded to human scale in its integral relation to the sculpted currents of circulation, but extended the drama of movement to approaching cars, raising a triumphal emblem for the air carrier at the end of Idlewild’s long southeast avenue. Saarinen was intent on creating a dynamic custom shell from early on in the commission, believing it could help elevate the new age of travel with an appropriate air of theatricality and commercial spectacle. Working with physical models to accommodate the complexity and nuance of the formal search, Saarinen’s office meticulously shaped an initial double-vault saddle form, through numerous iterations, into the iconic profile standing today (Architectural Forum, January. 1958). Hardly a true “thin” shell structure at all, varying from seven to forty inches in thickness, the soaring canopy was unlike anything to come before it (Architectural Forum, August. 1960). Not quite subjective on the order of Notre-Dame du Haut, and not quite analytical in the vein of Nervi, it represents above all a thorough deliberation and effective synthesis between human experience and material nature. 

Although concrete shells were typically effective at enclosing clear spans and flexible spaces -ideal conditions to accommodate the growth and change of an international airport- the sculpted interior at TWA did not lend itself to versatility, and the singular specificity of the shell prevented the addition of repeating modules, as shown possible at Yamasaki’s Lambert Field. Saarinen’s monument to movement and change was itself a fixed and static conception, lagging ever further behind in performance despite the architectural team’s substantial efforts to study, mechanize, and streamline its logistics and communications technology. Saarinen had internalized this lesson by the time work began on his second airport at Dulles VA, where he ensured the new facility would prove receptive to indefinite expansion of a consistent character (Temko 115). TWA then, is left at a place of fascinating contradiction, bridging a lucid and complete treatise on the future of space and structure, with a programmatic attitude more akin to a Beaux-Arts railway station than the true direction of the typology it sought to innovate.

The age of jet travel in the United States arrived amid growing middle class prosperity and a world set on the path of globalization. As international flights evolved from an elite luxury into an accessible commodity, competing airlines embraced the spirit of comprehensive branding which characterized much of America's burgeoning consumer lifestyle in the 1950s (Ringli 23). When Trans World Airlines recruited Eero Saarinen to design a showpiece facility to join the marketplace of terminals at Idlewild, a unique collision of social forces was set to manifest in the final building. 

The terminal was, in one sense, a coercive appeal to popular taste and assertion of commercial iconography, ultimately serving ticket sales and the bottom line as its end. Yet all the same, Saarinen was a dedicated humanist who took seriously the social responsibilities of design; and found at TWA, the chance to outline a new language of dignity and grandeur for the common traveler of the new age (Serraino 10). These forces were largely without contradiction to Saarinen, to whom neither public taste nor commercial activity were to be dismissed, each being an outgrowth of the broader zeitgeist which he sought to engage in his work (Ringli 87, Serraino 11). The question remained divisive for others however: was it the place of private enterprise to devise the high civic setting of a nation’s gateway onto the world? Typifying the divide over market domination at Idlewild are scholar Dudley Hunt Jr.’s 1961 assessment of the airport as, “a vast storehouse of information on the philosophy and practice of architecture in our time,” versus critic Allen Temko’s 1962 reference to a, “vulgar architectural circus,” of “commercialized structural exhibitionism” (Hunt, Temko 48). Even Temko however, despite maligning the conditions in which, “every building clamors for attention,” praised TWA itself for the, “undoubted sincerity” of Saarinen’s high aspirations (Temko 47-48). The wider questions of civic versus commercial agency, or centralized versus decentralized design, are distorted by Saarinen’s enigmatic and compelling connection to the human pathos at TWA; an attribute which made the building a successful corporate icon despite its technical inadequacy, and keeps it an enduring epochal emblem as its contemporaries have faded from cultural memory.

The TWA Flight Center is paradoxical in its status among relevant developments in architecture, being at once paradigmatic, yet exceedingly singular as a model for design. The tandem exploration of dynamism and plasticity has been a common thread among some of the 20th century’s most influential and profound design movements. TWA, in its masterful handling of these attributes, is no stranger to comparison with Italian Futurism, German Expressionism, and Streamline Moderne. Its intense specificity of form and rigorous formulation, however, leave TWA in a class without exact parallel. The numerous particularities of its complex, but thoroughly unified, architectural mode relate integrally to the building’s program, but above all derive from the incomparable life and design influence of Eero Saarinen. 

The commercial success of modernism in the postwar US came with new dilemmas of direction and a contentious professional climate. A pioneer among the second generation of American modernists, Saarinen strove to keep the maturing movement attuned and responsive to the changing conditions of society (Serraino 7). Addressing the dilemma of sterility he perceived in the country’s postwar architecture, he declared the characteristic sobriety of the International Style to have been a “purgative,” whose time had elapsed, but persisted as a static dogma among his contemporaries (Temko 34). Taking care to elevate his search beyond decorative attitudes, scrutinized as populist or arbitrary by the critical establishment, Saarinen leaned heavily on personal codes developed from the firm moral background of his father, and a rich variety of education and professional experiences leading up to his own solo work (Temko 14, 33).

Saarinen characterized his systematic approach as “responsible architecture,” giving due consideration to site, structure and program, deriving solutions which unify and resolve these fundamental concerns (Temko 10). As with the Gothic spirit he so greatly admired, his buildings strove at heart to be, “all one thing” (Temko 35). Beyond pragmatic concerns, he recognized that architecture was responsible as well for serving the spiritual needs of humanity, and looked for emergent cues to that more ineffable mission in all aspects of his life and work: “The Spirit of our time speaks to us… Its influence comes through intuition and it has to be felt with intuition” (Serraino 11). 

Having first trained to become a sculptor before entering architecture, TWA marks the climax of a professional career whose initially inhibited sculptural tendencies grew more confident and bold as he refined his understanding of space, material, and form (Temko 15). The unique enclosing shell provided a binding element which enlivened and unified the unfolding sequence of travel, as passengers moved from car to foot to plane. Approaching the terminal’s interior design, Saarinen sought to create a “total environment” where, “all of the curvatures, all of the spaces, and all of the elements would have one consistent character” (Architectural Record, July. 1962). Espousing a similar continuity of spirit between the exterior and interior, he asserted that the building’s outward appearance must be “exaggerated and overstated and repeated in every part of its interior'' (Ringli 84). The warping surfaces of concrete, tile, and plaster modulate with the varying inertia and position of the mobile viewer, heightening the act of transition which defines the core experience of any airport. 

Despite some initial complaints regarding the expressive extent of Saarinen’s flowing formal symphony, popular reception of the building, as well as the architect’s tragic death, had many hardline critics conceding to its value within years of the opening (Banham 122, Progressive Architecture, July. 1962). Although it is unclear whether the often cited “bird in flight” metaphor for the shell was ever intended, a genuine pictorial parallel to the building’s swooping formal vocabulary existed in the performance engineering of jet aircraft, and the graphic imagination by which consumer society received it, through television, magazines, advertisements, automotive design, and even science fiction (Ringli 86). Having detached from the picturesque tendencies of the romantic past in the first half of the 20th Century, architecture was married once more to the culture and spirit of its age with the picturesque vision of the romantic future realized at TWA.

The TWA Flight Center is distinguished not only by its architectural merit, but endures in memory and popular culture as a landmark of optimistic currents in broader mid-century society. Widely circulated as a sensational development in its own day, the distinctive profile and eye-catching spaces of its original design remained in circulation as a graphic icon in print, film, and television; even as the terminal itself became altered and less recognizable over the course of its functionally troubled lifespan (Ringli 126). 

Preservation of the terminal proved an essential chapter in the early history of Docomomo US as well. The organization contributed substantial resources and drew significant media attention for its involvement in a cooperative network of preservation advocacy groups, which succeeded in sheltering the building from imminent threats of development, and guided it to become one of the most innovative and successful examples of adaptive reuse in the United States. The current TWA Hotel embraces the building’s history as a key part of its identity, taking extra measures across its operation to reproduce an atmosphere which mirrors and celebrates the popular culture and design sensibility of the mid-century US.

The unprecedented ensemble of melodic forms, flowing spaces, and rich detailing at TWA served to dramatize and elevate the experience of passenger circulation in the building’s first life. While travel logistics are of lesser concern to its current function, the drama and prestige of the soaring spaces remain an invaluable asset. Despite technical shortcomings in its service as an air terminal, the building excelled beyond desired measures of publicity, cementing itself as a beloved New York landmark and providing a spatial experience which remains as engaging and futuristic today as it was in 1962.

2024

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i “Gensler to Design JetBlue Terminal for JFK,” Gensler Architects, Aug. 5, 2004, 31 Jan. 2007
&lt.http://www.gensler.com/news/2004/jetblue.html>.

ii “Trans World Airlines Flight Center (now TWA Terminal A) at New York International Airport” Landmarks Preservation Commission July 19, 1994.

iii Margaret Foster, “The Terminal Takes Off,” Preservation Online. 31 August 2005, 31 January 2007
<www.nationaltrust.org/magazine/archives/arc_news_2005/083105.htm>.

iv “JetBlue Airways Celebrates Significant Construction Milestone at JFK’s Terminal Five,” JetBlue Airways Corporation Oct. 17, 2006, 31 January 2007 <http://www.primezone.com/newsroom/news.html?d=106993>.

v “DOCOMOMO Helps Safeguard Saarinen's TWA Terminal,” AIA Architect August 2001, 31 January 3007 <http://www.aia.org/aiarchitect/thisweek/tw0727/0727tw1twaadd.htm>.

vi Stephanie Stubbs, “Saarinen’s TWA Terminal and the Moment of Truth,” AIA Architect September 2001, 31 January 2007 <http://www.aia.org/aiarchitect/thisweek/tw0727/0727tw2projecttwa.htm>. | http://s-media.nyc.gov/agencies/lpc/lp/1915.pdf