There's a moment in Manhattan, walking east on 42nd Street in late afternoon, when the sun catches the Chrysler Building's crown and the whole thing turns silver-gold.
The stainless steel spire — five arching terraces of curves, triangular windows, and geometric sunburst patterns — catches the light differently than anything around it. It's been doing this since 1930. Still stunning.
The building was commissioned by automotive magnate Walter P. Chrysler, who wanted something that would announce his corporation to the Manhattan skyline. He hired architect William Van Alen, and the two shared the same goal: the world's tallest building. The problem was that a rival architect, H. Craig Severance — Van Alen's former partner, no less — was simultaneously building 40 Wall Street with the same ambition.
Van Alen's solution was theatrical. He had a 38-metre stainless steel spire assembled in secret inside the building's dome. On October 23, 1929, the sections were hoisted into position and riveted together in just 90 minutes.
The building suddenly shot past 40 Wall Street to claim the record. It was the first man-made structure to stand taller than 1,000 feet. The satisfaction didn't last long — the Empire State Building surpassed it eleven months later. But the spire stayed. And it became, arguably, the more loved of the two.
Walter Chrysler was deeply involved in the design's decorative language. The result is a building where car culture and Art Deco sensibility overlap in ways that feel genuinely playful rather than corporate. At the 31st floor, replicas of 1929 Chrysler radiator caps project from the corners as gargoyles — chrome-bright, eagle-shaped, modeled after actual hood ornaments.
At the 61st floor, American eagles perch on the setbacks, nodding to both the national symbol and the machine age's heroic optimism. The exterior features approximately 50 of these sculptural projections across various floors.
The exterior material at the crown is Nirosta steel — a German rustproof stainless steel that was new at the time and gave the building an extraordinary silvery luminescence. As the light shifts, the crown changes colour and intensity in ways the building's neighbours simply can't match.
Most people never go inside. That's a real shame. The triangular lobby — lined with African red granite, amber onyx, and red marble — contains a ceiling mural called Transport and Human Endeavor, painted by Edward Trumbull. It depicts aeroplanes, bridges, and the Chrysler Building itself, surrounded by workers — a genuinely beautiful tribute to the industrial era that created it.
The elevators, original in design, are faced with intricate wood veneer in exotic patterns. Everything in the lobby feels intentional, detailed, and warm in a way that many later skyscrapers never managed.
In a survey of New York architects, it came first. Among 100 architecture professionals asked to name their favorite New York tower, 90 of them put the Chrysler on their lists. Not bad for a building that lost its height record before it was even a year old.