The Fairest of College Stadiums: An Homage to Nostalgia and Hope

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I'm going to break with tradition during this football season and write about a place where I didn't attend a game. I’ve written about Art Deco in the past, but this blog is exclusively about that architectural style. On a recent episode of The Man in the High Castle, one of the characters states the following nugget: “Architecture isn’t just about buildings.” This is probably one of the most important things to understand about architecture. It makes statements. It inspires. Art Deco, short for the French phrase arts decoratifs, was a movement in art and architecture from the 1920s through the 1940s. It was meant to be a break from what had gone on before. It was about efficiency, but also grandeur. It was about domination, but simplicity. The artists of the 1920s wanted modernity, and Art Deco was the answer. They combined geometric shapes into new patterns. And everything begged to be shiny and metallic—this was the belief in progress that evolved after WWI, when new advances in technology had shown what people were capable of creating. Artists and architects incorporated these elements in an effort to demonstrate the technological abilities of humankind. In a way, Art Deco was all about wishing—it celebrated the accomplishments of humans and looked forward to a sleek and elegant future.

For me, Art Deco epitomizes the hopefulness of humanity. Yet it also gives me a sense of nostalgia. Obviously, this style of art and architecture died out long before I was born, so the nostalgia isn’t for a past that I remember fondly. The nostalgia, it turns out, is for the world that I grew up seeing in old films and even Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies cartoons. I recognized something in those images, but as a child, I wasn’t even aware of it. With hindsight, I’ve come to understand that those buildings, those pieces of furniture, were symbolic. They weren’t just buildings, or practical appliances, or pictures to take up space. They were all of those things, of course, but they pointed to a higher view of what people could accomplish. I see now that seeing works of art gave me a sense of the awesomeness of the human mind. “Look what we can accomplish, if we set our minds to it!” they all seemed to say.

In the period after WWI, the world needed to find its collective confidence. Art Deco was an outlet for the frustration that had plagued the world for several years as they watched men and women die for really no purpose at all. The death and destruction took its toll on the world. Art Deco gave people back a sense of hope and purpose. It was aspirational, as well as inspirational. And it has inspired me every time I have come across it in the wild.

This is why Fair Park in Dallas, TX, is such a wonderful place to visit. It is a trip into history, but with an eye towards the future. I think Art Deco is the best architectural style to get into the minds of what people thought the future would be like. Constructed for the Texas Centennial Exposition in 1936, Fair Park is a wonderful example of people celebrating their past and imagining how much more brilliant the future could be. It is the largest collection of Art Deco buildings in the United States. Many such expositions were temporary, or at least the majority of the buildings were intended to be. But in Texas, the organizers and later the government bodies decided and continue to choose to let them stand. With restoration at occasional intervals. On its fiftieth anniversary in 1986, Fair Park was designated a National Historic Landmark, which guaranteed preservation.

Readers of my blog this football season may find it odd that I’ve taken a side trip here that isn’t related to college football. Or at least when I did other traveling, like after the Notre Dame game, the non-football stuff was part of that blog entry, just separated at the bottom in case people didn’t want to read about it. It’s true, that I didn’t attend a football game at Fair Park. It’s also true that I made a stop here on my way back from the Oklahoma-TCU game, and so I could’ve added it to the end of that blog. But Fair Park deserves its own entry, since it has such monumental appeal to me. And it’s related to college football because it’s the home of the Cotton Bowl. Or at least the original home of the Cotton Bowl, still home to Cotton Bowl Stadium.

I attended the Cotton Bowl back in early 2017, but these days that game is held at AT&T Stadium in Arlington. The Cotton Bowl Stadium still exists, and it does host the Red River Showdown held annually between Oklahoma and Texas in October. I have never attended that game, but it’s high on my priority list for next season, especially after visiting this place and not being allowed inside the stadium. The stadium dominates Fair Park, and it’s probably fitting for it to do so. The stadium was built in 1932, before the Texas Centennial Exposition. But Fair Park as a place dates back to at least 1906. As you can tell from the date of the stadium, it is in the Art Deco style, so it fits in perfectly with the rest of the Park.

There are several entrances to the Park, and I was fortunate enough to pick a day when nothing else was happening at the venue. At least, nothing that required paying to park. When I got to the Hall of State later on, I found out that a wedding (most likely) was being set up inside that building. But it was for later in the day. And it allowed me the opportunity to go inside that building, which I was happy to take. The day before, a sorority had held their Christmas display event, and it had attracted quite a few people. As I walked around the Park on this day, I could still see some of the skeletal trees set up; mainly they were wire frames with strings of lights around them. It was quite the contrast to the 1930s architecture.

The first building I saw after I parked was the Band Shell, which is a common design for concert venues from this time. It amplified the sound in outdoor arenas and directed it back towards the audience instead of allowing it to float off behind the performers. Unfortunately, this venue is gated all around and locked. So it’s hard to get any good views of the stage area except at oblique angles.

The next thing I came across was the lagoon, which I think is a more modern addition. At least it’s not the original lagoon, which had degraded due to lack of care over the years. There are large plastic swans for children to ride, but I’m guessing that these are only available when an event is going on. They were locked up, and no attendant was around.

Opposite from the lagoon is the Cotton Bowl Stadium. The stadium originally only held 45,000 people, but these days it has a capacity of 92,000 people, which makes it larger than most college stadiums in the country. It’s true that, unlike the other stadiums I have attended games at this season, it was never home to any particular school’s team, but it has seen so many classic games over the years. It truly should be on every college-football fan’s bucket list. Perhaps when I go to a game there next year, I’ll get to tell you all what it looks like on the inside. From the exterior, though, it is imposing. It dwarfs all other buildings in Fair Park. Its large cotton designs are straight out of the Art Deco catalogue. And the iron works around the entrances, mostly gates, are representative of the period, too. I ran across a guard napping on his golf cart at one end of the stadium, and my footsteps awakened him. No one else was around, so it was quiet enough for that to happen. I waved, and he nodded in response before returning to his slumber.

Since I couldn’t get inside the Cotton Bowl—no tours are offered at all, especially not to some random guy that walks up to the stadium on a Sunday afternoon—I continued along the path to the heart of Fair Park. Upon first rounding the corner, I was struck dumb by how saturated in Art Deco this place was. All I could do was look up, then over at the next building, then across the street at another row of statues, and back to the elegant yet colossal tower of Art Deco in front of me. If I were a cartoon character, I’m sure my jaw would’ve been on the ground. As it was, I imagine anyone who saw me would probably think I was having some kind of cerebral hemorrhage or something; or maybe that I was having a moment. I was definitely having a moment.

I was facing the Court of Honor, a wide avenue that separated the Esplanade area (with reflecting pool, fountains, statues, and other exhibit halls) from the Hall of State and the area surrounding the Cotton Bowl. Immediately to my right was the Tower Building, aptly named since there is a large golden tower demanding the attention of anyone who passes by. It’s not a skyscraper, but it is impressive nonetheless. As my eyes followed it from the base to the top, my jaw become more and more agape. I’m glad there weren’t any other pedestrians in the vicinity. I’m sure I looked pretty stupid. In my defense, I was simply overwhelmed. This gorgeous thing rising from the ground to such a height begged to be worshipped. Perhaps that’s too strong a word, but it certainly had that feeling to it. Remember when I said earlier that architecture is more than just buildings? Whoever designed this tower wanted it to have an impact on anyone who saw it. Mission accomplished, architect(s).

Beauty gives us pleasure. Certainly there is a reason we are drawn to beautiful things. They make us feel good. They enthrall us. For me, Art Deco is beautiful. It gives me hope.

Rarity makes something more valuable, and while beauty isn’t uncommon, the most beautiful things, the ones that can move us the most, are exceedingly rare. This is another reason Art Deco speaks to me so clearly. I don’t encounter it all the time. And when I come to a place like Fair Park, where this art and architectural style is so plentiful and concentrated, it’s almost overwhelming. This was the feeling I had as I walked through the Court of Honor. The Hall of State was mentioned above, but this was the only place I encountered people on this day. They didn’t interfere with my starry-eyed pilgrimage. I’m not sure they noticed me at all, until I went inside the building and found other people setting up the room for the wedding. A few did stop and look over at me as I entered the tall room. They had set up some godawful scaffolding and lights in front of a breathtaking Texas star mural, so I couldn’t get much of a picture of that. But it forced me to look at the ceiling (which is always a worthwhile activity when it comes to Art Deco), and it still made me smile. The person in charge of the setup gave me a bit of a quizzical look, and I returned it with a goofy smile and simply replied, “I’m just looking. Thank you.” He was probably confused, but I turned and walked back out before he had time to give it any more thought. The exterior of the Hall of State, with its geometric blue and gray columns, arched around a golden archer, is breathtaking. But as I walked back outside, a view of the Esplanade with the long reflecting pool greeted me.

I walked across the street to check out the two metallic statues, one male and one female. They were at the near end of the Esplanade, one on each side of the long reflecting pool with all the fountains. I chose to go to the side of the female statue. They’re both in superhero pose, with legs behind them and one arm outstretched; they could easily be confused for Nazis, come to think of it. But they’re not. The angles, the curves, the sleekness, and the shine all demonstrate the power that these beings are meant to convey. That’s Art Deco.

On this side of the fountain/long reflecting pool is the Automobile Building. It was closed, but the porticoes for each entryway still gave a home to murals above each doorway. These works of art were also Art Deco—I’m astounded by their simultaneous sharpness and curves. The geometry is really quite unique, and once you get a feel for Art Deco, it’s nearly impossible NOT to recognize it when you see it. Each of these murals featured men and women busy with the work of technology, science, and progress. Again, this was the foundational mentality of Art Deco—looking toward to the future and all that we could achieve.

I took a short detour when I came to the end of this side of the Esplanade. The Women’s Museum was a short distance away, and its proportions were phenomenal. It only housed an actual women’s museum for a short time, but it still carries that name.

Then I was back to the Esplanade to see the porticoes of the building on the opposite side of the Automobile Building. This was Centennial Hall, and it also housed exhibits for the Texas Centennial Exposition. Based on the names of each of the porticoes—Spain, Republic of Texas, Confederate States—I’m going to assume that the exhibits showcased the varied history of the state. But just like the Automobile Building, each portico was blessed with another mural. It was here, looking at these murals, that I began to wonder about the preservation of these beautiful buildings, these works of art. Because it was midafternoon, the sun was shining brightly on this building. The structure was such that some of the outcroppings toward the Esplanade provided temporary shade for the art, but other places had no such luck. They were being pounded by the sunlight. And sunlight causes pigment to fade. So there must be frequent attempts at restoration and preservation of these works of art. (When I got home, I did some research and found out that there indeed is a steady work that goes on to preserve this place.)

And finally I was back at the Court of Honor, and so I examined the male sculpture on this side. It was more anatomically correct than I had expected. Also more Nazi-like. But it was still fantastic.

And so I moved past all this and headed to the left of the Hall of State. Here were the Embarcadero Building and the Food & Fiber Pavilion. Neither of these buildings was in as good of shape as the Esplanade and the Court of Honor section. This was a shame, but I have to wonder if these buildings were ever originally as impressive as the ones I had already seen. The Embarcadero had a mural, similar to the porticoes, but the one on the Food & Fiber Pavilion was badly faded. And there was no entrance to either of these buildings available. They were solidly in the Art Deco style, with the angles and shapes one expects.

Once past these buildings, I was once again confronted with the Cotton Bowl Stadium, or at least the opposite side from what I had already seen. This is where I found the iron gates with Art Deco designs. Also, around the corner from that is where I found the slumbering security guard. There were other buildings in the Art Deco style opposite from the stadium, but they looked even more unloved that the Embarcadero Building. When I’ve looked up Art Deco buildings in cities I plan to go to, I always try to differentiate between the good Art Deco and the bare-bones Art Deco. The latter consists of basic doorways and windows, maybe a bit of a three-dimensional entryway with mini-tower above the rest of the roof. I don’t usually bother with making an extra effort to visit these, unless some of the good Art Deco buildings are close by. These are the ones with murals, bas relief, iron work, metallic edging, some streamlining, etc. These are the ones where the architect wanted to make the viewer admire the form and envision it lasting forever. These buildings are the ones I will go out of my way to see. Unfortunately, the buildings on this side of Fair Park were not very inspiring.

Just past my napping guard was the skeleton of the Texas State Fair, which is held here every year. It had recently closed (as in a month ago), but the large Ferris wheel was still standing, with its “T-E-X-A-S” spelled out along the spokes.

Before I left, I crossed to the other side of the lagoon to see the museums. The first was a dilapidated Dallas Museum of Natural History. It was locked, and the exterior looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned in years. Next to this was the Science Place, which looked to be functional but closed for the day. Its doorways were iron with good relief work.

And then my final stop of the day was the Band Shell. I hadn’t been able to get a good view, but coming at it from this side, I found some breaks in the gate that would afford a good view. They weren’t wide enough for me to get through (or anyone, really), but I could slide my arm in and get a picture for my grateful readers on here. How fantastic would it be to hear a concert here, especially something like Glenn Miller or something that would’ve been popular in the 1930s.

But then it was time for me to go. I had spent enough time in the nostalgia that Fair Park conjures up for its visitors. And it had inspired me. I hope that my words will give you a sense of the awe that Fair Park brings to me. And perhaps my photos will do it justice, too.

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