The Executive Towers was designed in 1964 by architect Alfred Newman Beadle as a young man of 33. It was the tallest building in Phoenix when built, and one of the classic mid-Century skyscrapers on the Central stem.

It's always been an excellent address, and the kind of urbane, vertical living experience that's unusual in the city. Feels more like Chicago. My friend's dad delivered newspapers here as a kid and associates the Executive Towers with good luxurious $3 tips.

The views, of course, are terrific, and there are those who say that from the north-facing units you can see all the way to the Rim Country.

I dare you to stand up right now and yell out, "I can see all the way to Rim Country!"

Beadle's career sometimes seems like one long restrained ethical square dance (see the other entries for the Three Fountains, the White Gates house, and the Mountain Bell building).

So at Executive Towers it's interesting to see Beadle mediate all that strict squareness with selective curves and some colored tilework. Especially around and above the entry. Like the rounded planters. The rounded, tiled, striped barrel 'pod' to the left of the front doors, which houses the security desk, like a command center. Look at those rounded inner corners of the structural frame along the roof. Subtle. And that wonderful, gratuitous, white, flower-petal canopy by the pool.

The way it meets the street is brilliant.

Another element that takes the boxy edge off is the center cascade staircase. Come to think of it, looks like a zipper.

And there's a bit of art to soften things up too. Here the callilgraphic poolside mural piece (visible in photo below) is by Milt Tuttle, an artist from California.

Just as a piece of Phoenix urban trivia, the enigmatic concrete relief at the former Copenhagen store at 7th Avenue and Indian School is also by Tuttle:

(click for a larger version)

This was another Beadle project. You're only seeing half of the relief. During conversion from the high-end Copenhagen furniture to (what was it) the Cheap-and-Chic resale outlet and the Zia Used Record store, the thing was half walled up. There's an incised portrait of somebody concealed in there, and the nearby T square suggests that it's Mr. Beadle himself. With a pomp.

Al Beadle's style is so distinctive. Where did it come from?

According to his wife (very kind to entertain a few questions from me) his architectural thinking was just always there. Not to say he didn't experiment and learn along the way, but it sprung from an inner source.

Is that corny? I just meant to convey he didn't pick it up at the Harvard GSD. On the contrary, he didn't go to study at the feet of the masters, he wasn't the whiz kid at the Minnesota State College who went west and made good, he wasn't influenced this way and that, he was a strong-minded builder who had better things to do than finish high school. Beadle assembled his own aesthetic from experience at his father's restaurant-supply company drawing out floorplans, and from experience with the Seabees on the Marshall Islands during World War II, building a runway on Kwajalein Atoll.

If Beadle had a hero, it would have been Mies. Al (can I call you Al?) and his wife lived in Chicago for awhile, and she remembers him walking past Mies's office more than once. One burst of courage away from hurling himself through the threshold. Could never do it.

And I'll tell you honestly, I don't have my mind wrapped around all of Al Beadle's entire career -- yet. It's broader and deeper than you might think.

Some day we'll get a good list together. He was busy.

The first major commercial project was the Safari Resort in Scottsdale, about the same time he designed the Triad for $9000 to house his in-laws. The Safari lead to his encounter with the local AIA, and his relationship with Alan Dailey as a front man with the proper official "architect" stamp. The Safari Resort lead him to the Executive Towers, developed by Stan Dreu and James Colachis. There were supposed to be more towers immediately to the west -- the Imperial Towers, where that little space frame bank is now -- and it was that second phase that was supposed to be more lucrative for the designer. But it obviously never happened.

Along with the many commercial projects in Phoenix, and the many masterful houses, there's the Paradise Gardens subdivision. He would stay up late at night working, sleep late in the morning, and according to Nancy "when they had two cents to rub together", he'd buy another car. He was big on Sunday morning drives with the top down. There are major projects in San Diego and Albuquerque and Chicago. There may or may not be an entire undocumented apartment complex in Mesa. Then there's the Cave Creek town center. Then there's all the crazy sculptural work. There always seems to be more Beadle.

Interested in an urbane, vertical living experience? You're in luck -- Scott Jarson has a spot open for you.