My Architect: A Son's Journey Page #2

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Lou was 61 when I was born.

All three families lived within

several miles of each other,

but we never crossed

paths until Lou's funeral.

- Do you remember this guy?

- Hell of a man.

- Sure, I remember him.

- Did he ever ride in your cab?

20, 40 times. Who knows?

He was a cab rider, strictly cab rider.

- Yeah, he didn't drive?

- Never. He used to sit in front.

- He sat in front?

- Oh, yeah.

- Really?

- Yeah. That was your dad,

world-famous architect.

Yeah, that was your father.

- Do you remember him at all?

- A little bit, vaguely.

- Did he ever ride in your cab?

- Vaguely. He loved the women.

Not the young ones,

but he loved the women.

Do you remember what

he looked like or...

His face was pointed.

Yeah, and his hair was...

his hair was, you know,

very thin, like a blond.

- Like a what?

- Like it was blond. Yeah.

Oh, blond, uh-huh.

Do you remember that he

had scars on his face?

Oh, sure.

It would look like he was burned.

Yeah.

This is where your

father had his office,

right there, where it

says tickets, upstairs.

That's 1501. That's

where he was, right here.

The office at 1501 Walnut Street

was the last place I saw my father.

My mother would bring me here sometimes

after hours and on weekends.

Lou would lean out the top floor window

and toss down a key wrapped in

yellow tracing paper, to let us in.

When I went to high school,

I had a teacher in the arts

who was head of the

department, Central High:

William Gray.

And he gave a course in architecture,

the only course... in any

high school, I'm sure...

in Greek, Roman, Renaissance, Egyptian,

and Gothic architecture.

And at that point, two of

my colleagues and myself

realized that only

architecture would be my life.

How accidental our

existences are, really,

and how full of

influence by circumstance.

Here at the University of Pennsylvania,

one of the world's great architects,

Professor Louis Kahn,

teaches and creates.

This is his Richards

Medical Research Building,

called by the Museum of

Modern Art in New York City

probably the single most

consequential building

constructed in the United

States since World War II.

It is principled, vigorous,

fundamental, and exhilarating.

This building is Kahn's

greatest achievement.

People come by all the

time with their cameras

taking pictures of this

awesome architectural wonder,

and we just sit upstairs in

the window and laugh at them,

because it's not a good place to work.

I don't feel comfortable

in my room, in my lab.

The temperature is not constant.

- The temperature is not constant?

- Yeah.

I don't like that birds

fly into the windows

and get killed.

It's not a pretty building.

You know what I mean?

It doesn't have a good-looking

architectural to it. You know what I mean?

It needs face, something

different... Maybe paint the pillars

a different color than the

building or something. You know,

I mean, something to

give it a little pizzazz

instead of, like I said,

look like a bomb shelter.

This was Lou's only major

building in Philadelphia,

and I wanted to like it.

But I had to agree it

was kind of disappointing.

Around this time, an article appeared

in the Philadelphia

Inquirer about my search.

It quoted me as saying that I

wanted to hug my father's buildings,

which was very embarrassing,

but it stirred things up.

I got several letters,

including one from a relative

of Lou's who was a rabbi.

He said that he'd officiated

at Lou Kahn's funeral

and Lou Kahn didn't have a son.

Hello?

- Is this Rabbi Kramer?

- Yes.

Yeah, hi. This is

Nathaniel Kahn calling.

God in heavens, the whole

world opened up, my friend.

What are you talking about?

I mean, gosh, I've been

raising hell with the Inquirer.

I said, "Find that man."

You're raising hell with the Inquirer?

- Why are you doing that?

- To find you, sir.

Oh, well, I'm glad you did find me.

Look, don't forget Lou

Kahn's my first cousin.

Lou Kahn is your first cousin?

And my parents was his godparents.

Wow, I didn't know that.

Well, I knew Lou very well.

With all due respect, I

hear Lou fooled around.

Well,

you know...

Anyway, I'm here, so

that's a good thing.

What would you do with

the film once you...

Oh, it'll be on... it'll

be on TV, you know.

- Wow.

- Yeah, so...

I'd like to come and interview you.

- I'm photogenic.

- Oh, you're photogenic, okay.

Let's see if anybody's home.

Just calling for you.

Oh, that was kind of you.

No camera, please.

- No camera?

- No camera.

No, I understand. I

know you were skeptical,

so I wanted to show you

my birth certificate,

which, um,

you know...

My bris certificate?

I don't have that.

What do they do?

That's okay, I understand.

Not that I'm proud of

being... but I'm trying...

'74, right, and you...

the two of you were there

at his funeral, right?

But people in the family

really didn't know that he was

an internationally known

architect, did they?

Does that mean no money to

show for it, you mean, or what?

Why did they think

that he traveled the world

and he didn't amount to anything?

I grew up not knowing

anything about Lou's family

and the Jewish half of my background.

I'd hoped so much that

Kramer would fill in

that part of the story for

me, but I was disappointed.

In this society, how you made it

is now like the dust has cleared.

Something else was happening, though.

Details about my father

were coming back to me:

his voice, the rough feel of his scars.

That was one of my favorite stories.

I made him tell it to me over and over.

He was three years old back in Estonia.

There were coals glowing in a stove.

He was captivated by the light.

He took the coals out

and put them in his apron.

It caught fire, and the

flames seared his face

and the backs of his hands.

His father thought it

would be better if he died,

but his mother said he would grow up

to be a great man because of it.

I first met your

father... some AIA affairs.

And I sat right next to Lou.

And I praised him, on

the Richards Laboratory.

I thought that was really a

marvelous group of buildings.

And it was then that

he told me, "You know,

"go to Scotland."

- Really?

- Know that?

No.

The Scottish castle

gave him the inspiration.

- For Richards?

- Yes.

And I said, "That group of buildings

are really one of your best."

And he said, "Well, the

best is yet to come."

That was Salk.

So then he told me about

his relationship with Salk.

He said, "I have the best client."

And he said, "Well, I view somehow

that this will be an

important piece of work."

And as it turned out to be.

I consider it to be

a masterpiece of his.

The two of you have varying degrees

of success with clients.

You seem to have succeeded very well.

I am... I am, but I'm a

little bit more able to...

a little more patient, perhaps,

because of my being Chinese.

If my client... let's say a

person did not agree with me,

I'll let it pass,

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