Facts panel
Fourteen-storey steel-framed office skyscraper at the southwest corner of State and Washington Streets, the Loop, Chicago, Illinois. Designed 1890–95, opened March 1895.
- Architects: John Wellborn Root (basement and first floor, 1890); Charles B. Atwood (upper thirteen floors, 1894–95); both for D.H. Burnham & Company
- Structural engineer: Edward C. Shankland
- Client: William Ellery Hale
- Construction begins: 1890 (jackscrews and new foundations)
- Upper floors begun: 1894 (after leases expired)
- Steel framing of top ten floors: Completed in fifteen days, 16 July – 1 August 1895
- Opened: March 1895
- Address: 1 W. Washington Street / 32 N. State Street, Loop, Chicago, IL 60602
- Height: 14 stories
- Structure: Steel skeleton frame; moment-resisting connections throughout the perimeter; one-third the weight of an equivalent stone structure
- Exterior: White glazed terracotta panels with French Gothic-inspired tracery (upper floors); brown Scotch granite with cast-iron Gothic ornament (base, Root's design); plate glass windows covering over 85% of the upper façade
- Key firsts: First skyscraper with large plate glass windows covering the majority of its surface area; first office building clad in white glazed terracotta; among the first skyscrapers to offer electricity and telephone service in all offices
- Designations: National Register of Historic Places (1970); National Historic Landmark (7 January 1976); Chicago Landmark; part of the Loop Retail Historic District
- Notable tenants: Carson, Pirie, Scott & Co. (ground floor, 1890s); doctors and dentists (upper floors); Al Capone's dentist
- Restoration: City of Chicago purchased building 1994 for $1.3 million; exterior restoration 1994–95; interior conversion 1999 ($27.5 million total); National Trust for Historic Preservation Honor Award (2001)
- Current use: Staypineapple, An Iconic Hotel, The Loop (122 rooms); Atwood Café (ground floor, named for the building's designer)
- Current status (March 2026): Active hotel; building fully operational; original architectural features substantially intact
Architects: Root and Atwood
John Wellborn Root (1850–1891) designed the building's brown granite base — solid, weighty, and articulated with cast-iron Gothic ornament — before his death from pneumonia in January 1891 at the age of 41. The base reflects his intention for the ground floor to be occupied by a department store: large openings, generous glazing, a sense of transparency at street level. The brown granite grounds the building with appropriate weight, while the Gothic filigree of the ironwork connects it to the soaring vertical tradition Root was exploring in his final years.
Charles Bowler Atwood (1849–1895) was a Boston-trained architect whom Daniel Burnham recruited to D.H. Burnham & Company after Root's death. Atwood had designed the fine arts building — the only permanent structure — for the World's Columbian Exposition of 1893, and had developed through that work an extraordinary facility with white glazed terracotta, a material he used to give the Exposition's classical buildings their characteristic shimmering brilliance. When he applied the same material to the Reliance's upper thirteen floors, the result was something entirely new: a skyscraper skin that appeared almost dematerialised, a cage of white light and glass in place of the masonry mass that had defined tall buildings until that moment.
Atwood died in December 1895, just months after the Reliance opened — one of the more poignant coincidences in American architectural history, given how fully the building expressed his abilities at their peak.
For Burnham's full career — the partnership with Root, the World's Columbian Exposition, the Monadnock, the Flatiron, and the Plan of Chicago — see our dedicated Daniel Burnham architect guide.
Architectural character: the proto-curtain wall
The Reliance's upper façade is one of the most radical surfaces produced in the 19th century. To stand in front of it on State Street is to look at something that should not have existed for another fifty years.
The steel frame carries all the load. Each storey's terracotta and glass infill is an individual unit, supported by a shelf projecting from the steel structure at each floor level — exactly the principle of the curtain wall that would define the glass skyscrapers of the 1950s and 60s. The walls bear no weight. They keep out the weather. That is all they are asked to do.
Within this structural logic, Atwood specified the largest plate glass then commercially available — six-foot-square lights flanked by operable double-hung windows in projecting bay oriels — producing a façade that is more than 85 percent glass. The terracotta panels between and around the windows are white and glazed, ornamented with French Gothic-inspired tracery: clusters of delicate colonnettes at the corners, intricate round motifs derived from medieval cathedral decoration, a filigree of white against the transparent surface behind. The Gothic ornament is not historicist nostalgia — it is a solution to the problem of how to articulate a surface that has no structural role to perform. Atwood used it to give the cage of glass its vertical emphasis and its decorative identity without in any way compromising the transparency of the whole.
The effect, as the Chicago Architecture Center has described it, is one of extraordinary lightness — a building whose glazed terracotta and copious fenestration give "a strong grid pattern with broad ribbons of glass windows" that transforms the dense masonry streetscape of the Loop into something entirely other. The building is, in a phrase that circulated at the time, self-cleaning: the glazed terracotta was believed to shed Chicago's coal-smoke pollution in the rain. That belief proved optimistic, but the aspiration itself — a building that repels urban grime — is a modernist idea presented in 1895.
The building for doctors and light
The Reliance's original tenants tell their own story. The building was designed specifically to attract medical and dental practitioners — professionals who needed more natural light than any other office workers of the era, for whom the ability to see clearly during examinations was not an amenity but a professional necessity. The building's enormous windows were not primarily an aesthetic gesture: they were a practical response to a specific brief.
The white terracotta reinforced the medical character. It projected an image of hygiene — of cleanliness, whiteness, and modernity — that made it the appropriate address for doctors who needed to reassure nervous patients. The building was not so much a symbol of commercial aspiration as of professional confidence.
Al Capone's dentist was among the building's most famous tenants — a detail that lends the Reliance's gleaming hygienic façade a pleasingly ironic edge.