Famous buildings built by people with tragic fates

Imagine: today you could bake pizza or assemble furniture, but none of these tasks can be compared to the scale of the building. Architects and designers create what shapes our world — tall, massive, impressive structures. But here’s the catch: not all the great people who gave the world famous buildings lived great and happy lives. Here are four buildings that you’ve probably heard of, built by people with tragic fates.

4 famous buildings built by people with tragic fates

1. Big Ben

You probably know Big Ben, the famous London clock tower. In fact, its official name is Elizabeth Tower, and “Big Ben” is the name of the huge bell inside. And no one knows exactly why it was named that way. There is a version that it is in honor of the politician Benjamin Hall, but the records of the 19th century are so illegible that these are just guesses. But the man who designed this watch was named August Pugin.

He also designed the interiors of the Palace of Westminster after the old one burned down due to absurd bureaucracy. Previously, records were kept on wooden sticks, and one day someone carelessly threw them into the oven. The result is a fire that destroyed centuries—old interiors. Pugin was a talented architect, but his life was sad.

Most likely, he had syphilis — it was common in those days. One day, on the train, he began to convulse, he was speechless. Instead of helping, the public locked him up in a psychiatric hospital. And then he was transferred to Bedlam, the infamous hospital for the insane, officially known as the Royal Bethlem Hospital. The irony is that from the windows of the Bedlam, Augustus could see St. George’s Cathedral, which he designed himself.

2. Madison Square Garden

Stanford White was one of America’s most influential architects at the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries. He designed the Washington Arch— the famous symbol of Greenwich Village, the second version of Madison Square Garden, and luxurious buildings like the Bank on the Bowery, striking in their pomp. His style is a mix of neoclassical, Renaissance and American chic.

But there was a dark side to his brilliant career. It all started when forty—six-year-old White met sixteen-year-old Evelyn Nesbit, a future fashion star and actress. He invited her to a swing, then moved her family to a luxury apartment, and then left her alone in his bed. Visit. A F R I N I K. C O M. For the full article. What happened between them is still a mystery. Evelyn later said that she woke up naked after an evening with champagne.

White was never brought to trial, but the story spread throughout New York. Later, Evelyn married millionaire Harry Trow, a man with a jealous nature and a penchant for physical abuse. After learning about his wife’s past, he decided to take revenge. On June 25, 1906, during a performance at Madison Square Garden designed by Stanford White, Trow approached the architect and shot him three times in the head right in front of hundreds of spectators. The scariest thing about this situation is that the performance didn’t stop.

The stage manager shouted to the musicians: “Let’s do this chorus!” And the orchestra, although shocked, continued to play. While White was bleeding, the audience applauded — many did not even realize what had happened. Trow was acquitted, writing off his act as “temporary insanity,” Evelyn became the star of scandalous chronicles. And Madison Square Garden has always remained a place where art, passion and death intertwined in one bloody evening.

3. Sagrada Familia

In Barcelona, the capital of Spain, stands the Sagrada Familia Cathedral, majestic and famous for being built for more than a hundred and forty years. Its creator Antoni Gaudi was a genius who changed architecture. He devoted the last forty-three years of his life to the Sagrada Familia, becoming more and more religious and ascetic over the years. He worked like a man possessed, lived on a construction site, wore old worn-out clothes, and often forgot to eat. For the people of Barcelona, he became the ghost of his own cathedral, a strange old man who could easily be mistaken for a beggar.

On June 7, 1926, Gaudi, as always, went to morning Mass. Crossing the street, he did not notice the tram. The impact was terrifying, but it wasn’t instant death. Gaudi was lying on the pavement, bleeding profusely, but passersby did not even stop. His ragged clothes and unkempt appearance made them think that he was just another homeless man, and there were many such in Barcelona at that time. It was only a few hours later that someone identified him as the great architect, but it was too late. The scariest thing in this story is indifference.

That day, no one even thought that this bloodied old man was the Gaudi whose buildings adorn the city. He was buried in the crypt of the Sagrada Familia, where he spent the last years of his life. The cathedral, which became his life’s work, turned out to be his tomb. And the tram that hit the architect was preserved as a museum exhibit. The irony is that he is remembered better than Gaudi himself died. Today, the architect is called a saint, and the Sagrada Familia is still being completed.

4. Sydney Opera House

You’ve probably seen the Sydney Opera House, at least in photographs. His white sails, reflected in the waters of the bay, have become a symbol not only of Sydney, but of the whole of Australia. Every year, eleven million people come here to concerts, and also see it just by passing by. This is one of those buildings that is impossible to miss. But you know what the strangest thing is? The person who invented it has never seen it. In 1957, the young Danish architect Jorn Utzon won an international competition to design a new opera house in Sydney.

Peeled orange slices became his inspiration. Yes, the famous “sails” are actually parts of an imaginary sphere, as if someone had assembled a giant citrus. He worked on the project from his workshop in Denmark for five years, and then moved to Australia to personally oversee the construction, but then the problems began. It turned out that it is more difficult to build such a building than it was thought. The design was revolutionary, the technology was insufficient, and the budget was growing by leaps and bounds.

The Australian government stopped paying Utzon, blaming him for the delays. In 1966, after nine years of struggle, he left. He just left the country, saying, “To hell with it.” Utzon moved to Hawaii and then to Switzerland. He built houses and designed churches, but never returned to Australia. When the Sydney Opera House finally opened in 1973, they sent him an invitation, but he did not come.

The years passed. The building became an architectural icon, but its creator never saw it completed. Utzon became blind in his old age, and even if he wanted to, he would no longer be able to see his masterpiece. So the greatest triumph of his life turned into a personal defeat — he gave the world a masterpiece, but he never heard an opera in it.