Ever walked into a room and felt like you were underwater? Or maybe lost in a high-tech forest made of concrete and Pyrex?
That’s basically the vibe of the Johnson building Frank Lloyd Wright designed back in the late 1930s. Honestly, calling it an "office building" feels like calling the Taj Mahal a "house." It’s something else entirely. Located in Racine, Wisconsin, the SC Johnson Administration Building is a trip. It doesn’t have traditional windows. It has 43 miles of glass tubing. It doesn’t have normal pillars. It has "lily pads" that look like they might snap if you lean on them too hard.
But they won't.
The Building That Almost Didn't Happen
In 1936, Frank Lloyd Wright was kind of a has-been. He was 70. People thought his best days were buried in the Prairie style of the early 1900s. Then came Herbert "Hib" Johnson, the head of SC Johnson. He wanted a new headquarters that looked like the future.
📖 Related: Miami to Key West Distance: What Maps Don't Tell You About the Drive
Wright delivered a fortress.
The Johnson building Frank Lloyd Wright pitched was totally introverted. Because the surrounding industrial area in Racine was—let’s be real—pretty ugly at the time, Wright decided to just ignore the outside world. He built a windowless "Great Workroom" that drew all its light from the ceiling.
The building inspectors hated it. They thought the design was a death trap.
The 60-Ton Sandbag Test
The most famous story about this place involves the columns. Wright designed these "dendriform" (tree-like) pillars that are only 9 inches wide at the base but spread out into 18-foot wide "lily pads" at the top.
The state of Wisconsin said, "No way." They insisted the columns would collapse.
Wright, being the absolute showman he was, didn't argue with math. He built a test column in a parking lot. On a cold day in 1937, he had workers pile sand and pig iron on top of it while a crowd watched. The city required it to hold 12 tons. Wright kept going. 18 tons. 24 tons.
He didn't stop until it hit 60 tons. Even then, the column didn't just crumble; they had to practically destroy it to get it to fall. Needless to say, he got his permit.
Working Inside a "Pine Forest Glade"
Walking into the Great Workroom is a weirdly spiritual experience. Wright wanted it to feel like a "pine forest glade."
Instead of walls, you have these towering white mushrooms. Between the tops of the mushrooms, he used Pyrex glass tubes—yes, the same stuff you use for casserole dishes—to let in a soft, diffused light. You can't see out, but you can see the sky shifting colors.
It’s stunning. But it wasn't exactly practical.
- The Leaks: Wright was a genius, but he was a terrible roofer. The Pyrex tubes were notoriously hard to seal. Every time it rained, the secretaries had to break out the umbrellas inside the building. Legend has it Hib Johnson once called Wright during a dinner party to complain that water was dripping onto his head. Wright supposedly told him to "move his chair."
- The Chairs: Wright designed over 40 pieces of furniture for the building. Most of it was brilliant (like the first modular desks), but the chairs were a nightmare. They originally had only three legs. Wright thought this would encourage better posture. In reality, if you leaned the wrong way, you ended up on the floor. He eventually added a fourth leg after enough employees complained.
- The Red: Everything is "Cherokee Red." The bricks, the floors, the furniture accents. It gives the whole place a warm, glowing energy that feels more like a living organism than a corporate box.
The Research Tower: The Vertical Lab
About a decade after the main Johnson building Frank Lloyd Wright project was finished, he added the Research Tower. If the main building is horizontal and grounded, the tower is a vertical exclamation point.
It’s 153 feet tall and stands on a "taproot" foundation that goes 54 feet into the ground. Basically, the floors don't touch the outer walls; they hang off a central core like branches on a tree.
It’s one of the only high-rise buildings Wright ever actually got to build. It’s also incredibly claustrophobic. The stairs are tiny. The elevator is like a birdcage. Because of modern fire codes, people can’t actually work in there anymore, but you can still tour it. Standing in a 1950s lab with original beakers and equipment while looking out through Pyrex tubes is like stepping into a sci-fi movie from seventy years ago.
Why You Should Actually Care
We talk about "open offices" today like they’re a new, disruptive idea. Wright was doing it in 1939. He hated the idea of "boxing people in."
The Johnson building Frank Lloyd Wright created was meant to be a cathedral of work. He believed that if you gave people a beautiful, inspiring place to be, they’d do better work. It wasn't just about efficiency; it was about dignity.
🔗 Read more: Why Harbour Lights Bluegreen Resort is the Myrtle Beach Spot Nobody Really Talks About
Even with the leaky roofs and the tip-over chairs, the building is still the only Wright-designed corporate HQ that is still fully operational. That says something. Most corporate offices from the 30s are parking lots or boring condos now. This one is a National Historic Landmark.
How to See It for Yourself
If you're an architecture nerd or just someone who likes cool spaces, you have to go to Racine. It’s about an hour north of Chicago.
- Book Ahead: Tours sell out weeks in advance. Don't just show up and hope for the best.
- Check the Seasons: Seeing the light change through the Pyrex tubes is the whole point. A bright, overcast day actually makes the interior glow more than a direct sunny day.
- Don't Skip Wingspread: While you're in the area, check out the house Wright built for the Johnson family nearby. It's the "home" version of this architectural philosophy.
Actionable Takeaway
If you can't make it to Wisconsin, look up the Steelcase Racine Collection. They recently started remaking the original furniture Wright designed for the building. It’s a way to get that "lily pad" aesthetic into your own home office—thankfully with four legs on the chairs this time.
The Johnson building Frank Lloyd Wright left behind isn't just a monument to one man's ego. It's proof that a workplace doesn't have to be a fluorescent-lit cage. It can be a forest.