Cold Open - A Congratulatory Call

It’s a wintry day on January 29th, 1957 in Denmark.

Architect Jørn Utzon holds his wife’s hand as they walk through the woods. The couple enjoys the forest calm as they follow the trail away from their home. Even in the heart of winter, Jorn is grateful for any chance to take refuge in the outdoors. So, they’ve left their newborn in the care of their 10-year-old daughter while they get a little peace and quiet.

But the tranquility of the forest is interrupted by the sound of shouting in the distance. The couple instantly recognizes the sound of their daughter’s voice, and they stop dead in their tracks.

Jorn immediately begins to fear the worst.

He and his wife start running back in the direction of their home. Jorn’s thoughts race with nightmare scenarios. He fears he’s made a terrible mistake entrusting the baby with his daughter.

But before the couple can get to the house, their daughter comes into view, riding on a bicycle. She hops off and Jorn dashes toward her.

When they meet, he’s confused to find a wide grin across his daughter’s face. Someone from Sydney is on the phone, she tells him. They want to speak with you. You’ve won the prize.

On January 29th, 1957, Jorn Utzon is announced as the winner of the design competition for the Sydney Opera House. The Opera House will be built on Bennelong Point, a slim piece of land sticking out into Sydney Harbor.

The specifications for the competition were daunting. The Opera House must be spacious enough to host large audiences, yet also fit on a very narrow area of land. And it must be architechurally appealing from every direction.

After competing against 233 entries, Jorn’s won out. But though his design will be unique and beautiful, bringing his vision to life will be an incredible challenge. Over the next sixteen years, the effort will generate intense controversy as the project blows past deadlines and budgets, before finally opening to the world on October 20th, 1973.

Introduction

From Noiser and Airship, I’m Lindsay Graham and this is History Daily.

History is made every day. On this podcast—every day—we tell the true stories of the people and events that shaped our world.

Today is October 20th, 1973: The Sydney Opera House Opens.

Act One: Construction Begins

It’s a dreary Monday morning on March 2nd, 1959 on Bennelong Point in Sydney.

Joseph Cahill, the state premier of New South Wales, looks at his watch and tries to hide his impatience.

It’s been more than two years since Jørn Utzon’s design won the competition to build the Sydney Opera House. But construction has yet to begin, and people are getting restless. Among them is Cahill. In just a few weeks, he’s up for reelection and he’s eager to demonstrate progress on this major public project.

But it’s not just his political career that Cahill’s thinking about. The 68-year-old politician has recently been diagnosed with heart disease, and he’s been pondering how he’ll be remembered after he’s gone. He wants to be known as the man who brought Sydney a historic building. But the clock is ticking, and Cahill has no idea how much time he has left.

So today, even though Jorn’s team hasn’t finished working through all of their engineering challenges, Cahill is breaking ground on the Opera House. It’s important to him that the project is seen as a bipartisan effort. But Robert Askin, the leader from the opposition party hasn’t arrived, and so the ceremony is being delayed. Cahill lets out a heavy sigh and hopes the dark clouds overhead don’t turn into an all-out downpour.

Thankfully, Askin arrives before any rain starts to fall. Cahill beams with pride as messages of congratulations and support from around the world are read aloud. Then he takes his place at the podium to deliver his remarks. As the polished politician looks out at the crowd, Cahill projects confidence and optimism. The upcoming election may cause controversies and challenges, but Cahill promises that the Opera House will be free from drama. Cahill vows that the building will open on Australia Day, January 26th, in 1963. Then Cahill bathes in the applause and flashes a triumphant smile.

After his speech, Cahill’s rival Askin comes to the dais. He too commits to a spirit of cooperation and seconds Cahill’s promise to bring Jorn’s vision to life speedily and without rancor.

Once the speeches have concluded, Cahill and Jorn work together to lay down a special plaque that the Danish architect designed for the occasion, signaling the first step of construction of the Opera House. Cahill is exhilarated. When the Opera House is complete in just a few years, Sydney will have the beautiful landmark it deserves, and his legacy will be cemented.

Cahill leans down and kisses the plaque. Then he rises up and lifts his hand to give a signal. A siren sounds and immediately workers spring into action. After months of anticipation, construction on the Opera House begins.

But sadly, Cahill does not live to see his dream come to life. Just seven months later, Cahill passes away after a long life in politics, with the Opera House nowhere close to completion.

About the same time, while construction on the building’s foundation begins, Jorn and his engineering partner, Ove Arup, find themselves in the midst of questions about the building’s final design. And they struggle to come up with answers.

The central challenge is how to build Jorn’s roofs. Jorn’s plan calls for a series of shell-like roofs that call to mind sails. The beautiful curves are what set his design apart and won him the competition. But translating Jorn’s original sketch into a working structure proves difficult.

After months of trial and error using state-of-the-art computer modeling technology, Jorn and Ove are still stumped. It seems nearly impossible to find a structure for the roofs that will be strong enough, but also cheap to build — a key criterion of the New South Wales government.

Then finally, in 1961, the team finds a solution. Instead of making the shape of each shell unrelated to the next, they realize they can treat each roof as a slice out of the same sphere. By giving the roofs a common geometry and reducing their irregularity, they’re able to more easily do the math required for their construction and ensure that the roofs are structurally sound. It also allows the roofs’ parts to be cast from the same mold, drastically lowering costs.

But Jorn and Ove’s solution creates a new problem. Their new roof design requires heavier supports than the ones that have already been built. The construction crew has no choice but to demolish the original supports. It’s noisy, messy work that shakes the public’s confidence in the project, and sets the timeline back once again.

By July 1963, it’s six months after Joseph Cahill promised the Opera House would be complete, and work is far from finished. The construction site is visible from every angle of Sydney Harbor, and all of the city’s residents can see no sign of walls or roofs. Public support for the Opera House — and for Jorn — begins to crumble. But Jorn’s confidence in his design is unshakeable. He pushes forward, untroubled by criticism or deadlines.

Two years later, the building’s roofs will finally be built. But there will be still lots of work to do, and New South Wales voters will grow increasingly impatient. That year, they will elect a new government that will vow to reign in the Opera House’s budget and its troublesome architect.

Act Two: Utzon Quits

It’s February 28th, 1966, seven years after construction began on the Sydney Opera House.

Jørn Utzon steels himself with a deep breath before ascending the stairs into a state government building in Sydney.

When voters ushered in new leadership last year, Jorn was initially hopeful. Under the previous administration, he felt that his expertise was often questioned, making progress on the Opera House unnecessarily slow. He thought perhaps the new leadership of New South Wales would give him freer reign.

But Jorn soon realized he misread the political situation. The new government is determined to take charge of the out-of-control Opera House. They’ve cast the project as wasteful, draining money that could be going to schools and roads. They’ve also questioned Jorn’s leadership.

The new Secretary of Public Works, Davis Hughes, a former air force pilot and school teacher, immediately began micromanaging Jorn’s work. Since taking over, he has insisted Jorn submit detailed drawings for each stage of construction, clashed with him over materials, and withheld money.

Jorn is frustrated with Hughes’s constant interference and he’s tired of nagging the man for payment. So, today Jorn is at Hughes’s office, hoping he can reclaim control over the Opera House.

As he approaches Hughes’s door, Jorn is ready to give him an ultimatum: pay up, or he’ll walk. But the meeting begins on a positive note. Jorn is pleasantly surprised when Hughes agrees to pay him a monthly advance to cover his work. But the congenial tone doesn’t last long. The men spar over which materials to use and how much they cost. 

Then, Jorn brings up an outstanding amount for his previous work. Jorn has been inquiring about the money for weeks. He wants to know exactly when he’ll get paid. But Hughes is evasive. He tells the architect that he’ll look into it by the end of the week. That’s not good enough for Jorn. He’s fed up with the noncommittal answers and tells Hughes he’s resigning. Hughes blanches and reprimands Jorn for speaking to a government official in this way, but the architect is already standing up and walking out of the office.

Jorn is furious. And he hopes the labor minister understands his seriousness. He expects his resignation to be taken as a threat, one that will force Hughes into a more conciliatory posture. But again, Jorn has miscalculated. Instead, Hughes uses Jorn’s resignation to solidify his own control over the Opera House.

When news breaks of Jorn’s resignation, a public debate emerges. There's a large outpouring of support for the Danish architect. Members of the architectural and musical world beg the government to reinstate him. They insist that only Jorn can deliver on his original vision and finally provide Sydney with a world-class landmark. But there are others who view Jorn’s resignation as a welcome development. They blame Jorn for the Opera House’s ballooning costs, and they see no reason why the landmark has to be built by a foreigner when Australia has plenty of talent of its own.

In the days after his resignation, Jorn holds a series of meetings with Hughes. He implores to be put back in charge of the Opera House. But in each meeting the government stands firm. If Jorn returns, it will be as one member of a committee, and Hughes will continue to exert oversight.

Jorn can’t accept these terms. And on March 18th, he submits all of his remaining planning documents and models to the New South Wales government. His engineer, Ove Arup writes Jorn a heartfelt letter, pleading for him to come back. Although Jorn and Ove’s relationship has frayed over the course of many heated design debates, Ove feels the Opera House cannot succeed without the Danish architect.

In response, Jorn asks Ove to resign in solidarity, but Ove does not. Jorn takes this as a final betrayal from a former colleague. And at the end of April, Jorn and his family leave Australia, never to return.

To take his place, Hughes picks a young Australian architect named Peter Hall. As a young man, Peter admired Jorn’s work. He even briefly considered working for him. But instead Peter stayed in Australia and designed a number of public buildings.

And when Peter takes over, the exterior of the Opera House is practically finished. Peter’s main task will be to resolve a number of challenges within the Opera House’s interior design. And ultimately he and his team will complete the Opera House, but it will take them another seven years and millions more dollars to finish the work that Jorn began almost a decade earlier. And when the Opera House does finally open, its original designer will be conspicuously absent.

Act Three: The Opera House Opens

It’s October 20th, 1973 on Bennelong Point in Sydney Harbor, seven years after Jorn Utzon resigned as architect of the Sydney Opera House.

Queen Elizabeth II steps up to a microphone to address the exuberant crowd in front of her. It’s a blustery day, but the mood is celebratory.

After fourteen years of construction and controversy, the Sydney Opera House is finally complete. The harbor is filled with hundreds of boats who have sailed up to surround the building on the day of its opening.

Earlier in the ceremony, an aboriginal actor spoke to guests from the top of the highest rooftop. He channeled the voice of his ancestor Bennelong, one of the first aboriginal Australians to connect with British settlers, and the eponym of the Opera House’s site. With his address complete, it’s now Queen Elizabeth’s turn to speak to the assembled masses.

The British monarch holds tightly onto her printed remarks, so the pages aren’t blown away in the wind. She speaks about the history of the arts in Australia and praises the Opera House as a remarkable addition to Sydney’s architectural and communal life. She celebrates the many people who labored for more than a decade to bring the landmark into being. But she does not name the man who first dreamt of the Opera House.

Jorn Utzon’s name is notably absent from the Queen’s speech. His name is also missing from the plaque the Queen unveils that day. It’s a final snub by the government of New South Wales who drafted the Queen’s words.

Today, the Opera House stands as a cautionary tale for those who want to build their dreams. It opened ten years late, and cost almost 15 times its original budget. But the Opera House is also Australia’s most visited tourist attraction. It is a UNESCO World Heritage site and inseparable in the public mind from the city of Sydney. And despite his absence on the day of its opening, Jorn’s Utzon name will be forever connected to the Sydney Opera House.

In 2003, Jorn will win the Pritzker Prize, architecture’s highest honor. The prize committee will write, “There is no doubt that the Sydney Opera House is his masterpiece. It is one of the great iconic buildings of the 20th century, an image of great beauty that has become known throughout the world – a symbol for not only a city but a whole country and continent.” So despite all the controversies and challenges, Jorn’s design will endure as a triumph, a labor well worth the years of struggle that preceded its opening on October 20th, 1973.

Outro

Next on History Daily. October 23rd, 2002. Chechen rebels storm a Moscow theater, taking hundreds hostage and demanding an end to the war in Chechnya.

From Noiser and Airship, this is History Daily, hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsay Graham.

Audio editing by Muhammad Shahzaib.

Sound design by Mollie Baack.

Music by Lindsay Graham.

This episode is written and researched by Ruben Abrahams Brosbe.

Executive Producers are Alexandra Currie-Buckner for Airship, and Pascal Hughes for Noiser.