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An architectural dream comes into focus

As an architecture major at the University, Arthur Cotton Moore '58 GS '60 was required to design a building for his senior thesis. Rather than develop a blueprint for a skyscraper or layout a plan for a stadium, Moore conceived his dream house.

Since graduation, Moore has built three homes. First, he built a traditional apartment. Then, he built a triangular home with a triangular courtyard and swimming pool. Finally, he built a colonial field house.

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Each one received considerable praise from critics.

Each one was more to his liking than the one that came before it.

But none of the three has been his dream house.

Moore's most recent creation, the colonial field house, has been splashed on the front pages of the home and style sections of The New York Times and The Washington Post during the past month.

Though the stainless steel home — which overlooks a waterfront — took two years longer than expected to build, the product was well worth the wait.

Scouring the East Coast for a suitable location, Moore and his wife, Patricia, took their time — 10 years in fact — to find the best spot for their home.

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While Moore is proud of his latest house, he is quick to emphasize that he has not given up on his original dream.

"The house is still very difficult to build today," Moore said. "But I'm still getting very close."


Following the family tradition of attending Princeton, Moore arrived on campus with less than modest expectations.

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Like several undergraduates, he endured ROTC training in the morning, attended classes in the afternoon and performed with a theater group in his free time.

The then-recent graduate of the St. Albans School in Washington, D.C., had chosen Princeton not only for its prestigious reputation but also to avoid enrolling in the Naval Academy as his father had desired.

Though Moore took advantage of the opportunities the University had to offer — whether it meant sitting in on economics classes or attending poetry sessions — he said he already had his sights on "what everyone did those days": majoring in either history or English literature and then pursuing a career in foreign service or law. Little did he know that would all change.

At the end of his freshman year, Moore visited a high school friend who was then in architecture school. The friend, who was frustrated with the overwhelming amount of schoolwork, felt that he had made a mistake and did not belong there.

The friend encouraged Moore to take a look at what he considered second-rate drawings — those on the bottom heap of shuffled papers — and to take a stab at imitating them.

Though Moore had experimented with art in high school, he had never perceived it as anything more than an extracurricular interest.

This time, it was different.

"It was love at first sight," Moore said. "It was really love at first sight. This is what it was and is for me. And I never changed after that."

"Living in Washington," he said with a chuckle, "I had seen more than enough lawyers anyway."

After that night, Moore swiftly abandoned his initial academic interests and concentrated solely on architecture.

Moore's realization, however, came with a heavy price. "For architecture at Princeton, there is almost no amount of time that you could spend on [additional extracurricular activities] for a lasting amount of time," he noted.

"You could work on a problem and basically it could take a week to six months. Because there are so many options and so many things to look at, it's really fascinating," he said. "So it takes up your time."


Moore vividly remembers his series of all-nighters at Princeton. "There is a kind of semi-social ritual. You pull an all-nighter, write through the night, skipped what you did — whatever you were doing — and then you would always have time. It was the folklore of architecture," he said.

In fact, he often found himself "on the charette," the French word for cart. For architects, "on the charette" meant being on deadline, working furiously and awaiting swift assessment.

"You go to the jury room, go on the cart, the charette, if you are really under the gun," he said. And this occurred more than once during his academic career.

The hard work paid off. Four years at the undergraduate level flew by.

Instead of enlisting in the Army immediately following graduation, Moore pursued a graduate degree in architecture at the University and eventually graduated in 1960. He then started up a small firm.

Five years later, it became Arthur Cotton Moore & Associates.


Moore is an internationally recognized architect and has completed projects in 36 cities. He has received countless awards and has been mentioned in 2,000 articles in magazines and newspapers from Europe to Japan. And he recently completed a 17-year, $81-million renovation of the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C.

Restructuring its outward appearance, as well as replacing basic wiring and sprinkler systems and updating communication systems, Moore just unveiled the library's striking green-domed Jefferson Building.

Moore pulled off one particularly appropriate 21st-century twist — computers with 19th-century mahogany now serve as the world's largest card catalogue.

He said the project took so long because it constantly needed to be redesigned. Moore made frequent trips to Washington, D.C., to accommodate the demands of an ever-changing Congress.

"Nobody wants to see their predecessors' work," he said.

Though Moore maintains the project was not as "intense" as it might appear, the responsibility of modernizing a home to 119 million preserved items definitely kept him on his toes, and at his best.

"It was a slow and tedious process because the Library of Congress is probably and arguably the most beautiful, embellished building in the western hemisphere, rival to any structure," Moore said. "It's an enormous institution, incredibly elaborately done. It's a treasure. A memorable treasure. So you have to be careful."

Besides remodeling the nation's oldest federal institution and the world's largest library, Moore has worked on the Federal Communications Commission building, Washington Harbor's Canal Square, the city's Old Post Office building, the Ellington School and 14 buildings in lower Georgetown.

And those are just the highlights.


Moore has for decades fueled creative energy and sparked renewed interest in architecture. As more than just an innovator of architectural designs, he has expanded his horizons to paintings, sculpture, articles, furniture and books.

In the end, Moore credits the University for his success.

"I never had second thoughts [about architecture], and I always felt I was lucky," Moore said. "I didn't want to end up on the path to be a lawyer, naval officer or history professor like my brother and sister."

It was at Princeton where Moore not only discovered his love for architecture but also developed passions in other areas. Auditing classes that were not required became one of his favorite pastimes.

"Try to have this general pacing," he said. "This is why you go to a university, as opposed to a college. There is a wide range of things to nibble on, to see what you like."

He jumped from class to class, lecture hall to lecture hall, and he praised his instructors.

"Fantastic" was how he described one professor; "a really renaissance man" was another. He rattled off the names of several professors with amazing ease — architecture, English, history, technology alike — men he had listened to more than 40 years before.

Asked what lies ahead, Moore invoked legendary architect Frank Lloyd Wright, who once responded to a similar question by saying, "The next one."

Perhaps it will be his dream house. Perhaps not. It's all a matter of where he directs his focus.