Elton Lautner, as the commander of the "Aggressor Squadron" of the U.S. Air Force, has seen many things in his life, but when he stood one morning in 1981 face to face with the first "F-117 A Stealth fighter jet" in the world, he could only muster one sentence: "Folks, I just saw the 21st century." He had never seen an aircraft with such angular shapes, sharp edges, and unusual proportions before. "It looks like it just flew in from Star Wars."
Stealth means invisible, and that is the last thing architect Moss would wish for his buildings. The 20-meter high and 100-meter long building on the edge of a dull industrial zone outside Santa Monica marks a complex of buildings that Moss created and realized together with the brilliant business strategist Frederick Smith. "Welcome to The Mossland" could be written on a sign for the 40,000 square meter large phantasmagoria of architectural oddities.
Test pilot Neuberger is significantly less impressed by this "night hawk." Sure, it can't be detected by radar, but this thing will fly like a brick because it's not really an aircraft at all, but a bent box with bombs inside. Aerodynamically, it's also a disaster, and the only thing keeping it in the air are computers. The shape reminded the pilot of anything but the elegant form of an aircraft that slices through the stratosphere with its lines.
The Stealth building is as black as the Night Hawk, perhaps even more elegant. The long folds of the street facade create a shelter for the open stage that was formed beneath the building. A few columns serve only the most essential function of overcoming the enormous cantilevers and spans. The window shaping resembles a richness last seen in the Jewish community center by
Libeskind. Inside, there is a sense of unusual lighting and proportions. The windows give the impression of a crack that is 12 meters long and 50 cm wide.
Engineers in the strictly secret underground development center found that curved surfaces reflect radar signals much like a soap bubble reflects light. Therefore, the shape of the new airplane was designed with edges like the surface of a cut diamond, to minimize radar signal reflection as much as possible. They succeeded so perfectly that in the end, the pilot's helmet emits the same signal as the entire aircraft.
Construction manager Don Dimster is on edge. Construction work has meanwhile gotten underway, and he is the only one on the site who knows how complicated bends and curved cuts will come together to form the house. Dimster says he likes this house. Precisely because nothing is being built on it. Everything arrives finished. When all the winding beams fit together like blocks in a construction set, it feels like a tribute to his engineering craft or a successful landing.
F-117 pilots know this very well when they climb into the cockpit. If a few computers fail, the aircraft falls to the ground due to its boxiness. "There was nothing that could be done." Bill Park, a test pilot for Lockheed, had only one option when he realized that his flying computer was about to crash. He ejected from his aircraft at an altitude of 3000 meters over the Nevada desert and then never wanted to fly again.
The Stealth house stands. It doesn't fly and is not invisible. It looms in the neighborhood of two to three-story warehouses and workshops. The clever Mr. Smith got what he wanted: another symbol of Southern California's design ingenuity and to draw attention to his projects. Marketing understood how well and conveniently architecture could serve as a selling argument for real estate. The best of both worlds created a significant point on the international architectural radar screen.
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