A (slightly delayed) conversation with Robert Campbell

By Matt Haviland

I met Robert Campbell under less than ideal circumstances, with a cup of Starbucks cappuccino that was less than warm. Microwaves and Blackberries can sometimes save the day.

The blue line train – which goes all the way to Wonderland if you let it – came to a stop in East Boston, where I thought I would be interviewing my journalist. The blustering highway between the T station and “his” street was an indication that I might, maybe, be in the wrong part of town… not to mention the graffiti or the fact that these house numbers stopped before 20, dozens less than his actual address.

After circling the block for twenty minutes, checking my Blackberry repeatedly for Google’s maps, and scaring the hell out of some woman taking out her garbage, I gave up. “Guess I really screwed up this one,” I thought, taking out my Blackberry and sending Campbell an e-mail. As I waited for the blue line train back to flashing civilization, the hardest challenge was not drinking the cappuccino (which I had promised Campbell but, twenty minutes late and in the wrong part of town, it seemed like a promise that was going to be broken).

It wasn’t. I kept the cappuccino by my side, looking at it but not giving in. Campbell’s response buzzed in my pocket on the train: I stood in Downtown Crossing’s T-station a few minutes later, coordinating the trip to my actual destination with a man who sounded a little annoyed (and rightfully so) but still willing to do the interview. I was going to be another half hour late, but he said it was fine and made sure I knew where I was going (he also explained that there are a lot of streets in Boston with that name).

Our interview was supposed to be at five – I pulled up to Campbell’s house around 6:10, having missed a t-stop since we last spoke and tried three different cabs before finding one that would take me where I needed to go. I walked into a much nicer house than any of the ones on his bizarro East Boston street and was greeted with friendliness – probably more than my crappy Google maps skills deserved. Campbell popped the cappuccino, hardly less than two hours old, into his microwave, asking if the cup was going to explode. Given the rest of my journey, it very well might have.

It didn’t, and we sat down to talk journalism.

“I’ve been very, very lucky,” started Campbell. He wouldn’t recommend his career path to anyone, based on the simple fact that it might be impossible to reproduce.  His story is labyrinthine series of coincidences and branching choices, starting with his attendance at Harvard and leading to an architecture firm, private practice architecture, and writing for Parade Magazine, for “a wonderful three years.” His established freelance criticism for The Boston Globe, without which I would have been interviewing someone else entirely, started by a heat-of-the-moment decision to take his family to a Columbia fund raising party. Few people really enjoy these things, but Campbell felt compelled to go. By chance, he talked to a Globe editor there, and that conversation led to his Pulitzer prize winning future with the newspaper.

A renaissance man is the proper term, and Campbell has done a lot, exploring both of his passions – architecture and writing – thoroughly (he has a wall plastered with awards for both). There was a ten year period where he “didn’t write a word,” however, and that’s when Campbell found that he couldn’t (psychologically) live on architecture alone. “I sort of have to write,” he said, echoing just about every true writer through the centuries.

“Why write about architecture?” is the question I forgot to ask, but Campbell brought it up himself. He called other critics “consumer guides” – it’s easy to see why people read reviews of new movies or shows or CD’s, but once a building goes up, a bad review isn’t going to tear it down (and a good one isn’t necessarily going to make people visit more frequently). The answer, then, is “because we live in it.” We live in architecture, so of course we should review it. What’s more important than our habitat?

Campbell finds buildings to review in several ways. Sometimes people send him information, or The Boston Globe suggests places that he really should cover – “I try to be alert to what’s going on.” Having picked a target, he always talks to the architect first. Since they’re just people, some architects express lots of insight into their work, but others just can’t articulate the process. On his tours, I wondered if the management ever tries to hide flaws or make things look better than they are. Campbell simply answered, “How would I know?”

When asked if he’s ever changed his mind about a piece of architecture, Campbell said “Absolutely.” It’s very embarrassing to “say good things about bad buildings and bad things about good buildings,” but it happens, and you feel terrible afterwards. As for negative responses, there are people who wouldn’t talk to Campbell for years after he gave their building a bad review. What he most cares about, and what show up in nearly all of his reviews, are the bigger ideas at hand. These buildings become “door(s) into larger issues,” and you can tell from my earlier blogs how each of them not only stands on its own but represents a concept.

Obviously the Pulitzer is Campbell’s most distinguished, or at least well known, award and accomplishment. “It was a complete surprise,” he said. That The Boston Globe picked him, an architecture critic, to submit ten pieces of writing for award consideration was surprising in itself. They have so many mainstream reviewers (movies, music, etc.), and Campbell has always been a freelance contributor anyway, never an “official” member of the staff.

But he won, and the prize “kind of oiled a lot of pathways.” He didn’t neglect to mention that “there have been a lot of little honors along the way.” Looking at the many plaques and certificates arranged in Campbell’s living room and study, that much was obvious.

His biggest piece of advice was to young people in general: “Travel all you can.”Just pick up a backpack and go. He has many favorite pieces of architecture, but mentioned The Alhambra Palace in Granada, Spain (“that place from the song”) and the Kimbell Gallery in Fort Worth, Texas as two of his foremost picks (and cited Frank Lloyd Wright as a favorite architect). His descriptions of those buildings, which I couldn’t write quickly enough to copy, were as poetic sitting in his living room as they are on the pages of The Boston Globe. For The Alhambra Palace, Campbell said something about “always emerging from some dark corridor into… [what I'm assuming to be a great burst of light].” I cursed not having a tape recorder.

I left Campbell’s house elated to have gotten the interview, even though I had been through the entire city of Boston and arrived over an hour late (having applied several two dollar charges to my Charlie Card and distributed almost an entire twenty dollar bill between cab drivers). Time is certainly money, and I was just happy that Robert could afford to give me extra (and be so understanding about doing so). The lessons in architecture reviewing and journalism were fantastic, but well rivaled by the ones I learned getting there.