Main Facts When media mogul John H. Johnson opened the headquarters of the Johnson Publishing Company (JPC) at 820 S. Michigan Avenue in Chicago in 1972, he famously dubbed it "the miracle on Michigan Avenue." For nearly four decades, the 11-story structure—clad in striking bands of walnut travertine alternating with ribbons of tinted glass—served as the undisputed heartbeat of Black media in America. It was the home base for pioneering, culturally transformative publications like Ebony and Jet. Crucially, the building was the first downtown Chicago high-rise commissioned by a Black-owned company. Designed by John Warren Moutoussamy, a prominent Black architect and a pupil of Mies van der Rohe, the tower was a deliberate assertion of presence, power, and prestige in a skyline traditionally dominated by white corporate institutions. Inside, the building functioned as a universe unto itself. Its interiors were a masterclass in mid-century maximalism, curated by Eunice Johnson—Ebony’s fashion director and John Johnson’s wife—alongside legendary Palm Springs designers Arthur Elrod and William Raiser. Featuring explosive patterns, rich textures, custom textiles, and modernist furniture on every floor, the corporate offices mirrored the dynamic, multi-faceted expressions of Black life that the publishing empire championed. However, the changing tides of the media landscape and a collapsing advertising market in the late 2000s forced JPC to sell its iconic headquarters in 2010 to cut costs. The building was left vacant, sparking a multi-year scramble by preservationists, historians, artists, and photographers to document and rescue its historic interiors before the property was redeveloped into luxury residential condominiums in 2017. These rescue missions, coupled with photographer Barbara Karant’s hauntingly intimate documentation of the vacant building between 2013 and 2017, form the basis of a new book titled 820 Ebony/Jet: Visions of the Johnson Publishing Company, an American Icon. Chronology of an American Icon To fully understand the cultural weight of 820 S. Michigan Avenue, one must trace its journey from conception to preservation: 1969: John H. Johnson commissions architect John Warren Moutoussamy to design a new corporate headquarters. Johnson insists on a vision built entirely around a Black aesthetic: a Black enterprise designed by a Black architect for a Black audience. 1972: The 11-story tower officially opens. Interior spaces are brought to life under the artistic direction of Eunice Johnson and designers Arthur Elrod and William Raiser, featuring everything from a bronze-paneled lobby with red leather banquettes to the psychedelic, marbled laminate of the famed Ebony test kitchen. 1972–2010: For nearly 40 years, the building’s interior remains remarkably unchanged. JPC maintains an unwavering commitment to its original brand aesthetic, eschewing corporate remodels in favor of preserving its distinct visual identity. 2010: Hit hard by the economic recession and a shifting advertising market, JPC is forced to sell its headquarters to Columbia College Chicago to stay afloat. The building’s departure marks the end of an era for downtown Black corporate presence. 2013–2017: Photographer Barbara Karant gains access to the empty building, spending years systematically photographing every floor for six to eight hours at a time before the structure’s eventual conversion. 2017: The building is officially designated as a Chicago landmark, saving its striking exterior architecture from demolition. Shortly after, Columbia College sells the property to developers, who convert the tower into luxury residential apartments, wiping away the remaining JPC interiors. Present Day: Archival institutions, museums, and new publications—such as Karant’s book—work to cement the legacy of the building, ensuring its unique design and cultural footprint are never forgotten. Supporting Data and Architectural Breakdown The architecture and interior design of 820 S. Michigan Avenue were not merely decorative; they were political and cultural statements. As architectural historian E. James West notes in an essay within Karant’s new book, Johnson’s mandate for the building was unequivocal: "It had to be Black. Black architect. Black enterprise. Black aesthetic." Moutoussamy achieved this on the exterior through a commanding massing strategy that imparted a sense of permanence and gravity along Michigan Avenue. Inside, Eunice Johnson and her design team curated an eclectic, fearless visual vocabulary across the building’s 11 floors: The Ground Floor Lobby: Clad in panels of rich bronze and exotic Mozambique wood, the entrance featured a monumental bronze sculpture by renowned artist Richard Hunt, complemented by inviting red leather banquettes. The Ninth Floor Executive Reception: This space welcomed high-profile guests with a sculptural bronze-toned resin screen, a bespoke coffee table crafted from Mexican onyx, and an earthy, checkerboard-patterned carpet. The Seventh Floor Executive Suite: Eunice Johnson’s personal office was a study in monochromatic elegance, wrapped entirely in cream tones and appointed with Space Age executive chairs, avant-garde Italian lamps, and authentic African antiquities. The Ebony Test Kitchen: Perhaps the most famous room in the building, the test kitchen was a riot of color, enveloped in psychedelic, marbled laminate that became a legendary touchstone of mid-century interior design. Whimsical Details: Throughout the building, design risks abounded. Karant has frequently highlighted a surreal room featuring leopard-print carpeting that seamlessly extended up the walls to completely camouflage a fire extinguisher and its utility closet. Official Responses and Rescue Missions When the building was vacated and sold, its lack of interior landmark protections meant that its physical contents were vulnerable to destruction. What followed was a massive, coordinated rescue operation spearheaded by cultural institutions, artists, and preservationists. The historic Ebony and Jet photo archives—containing millions of images documenting decades of Black history, civil rights milestones, fashion, and culture—were acquired by the Getty Research Center and the Smithsonian National Museum of African American History and Culture (NMAAHC) through funding provided by major philanthropic organizations, including the Ford Foundation and the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation. Efforts to save the physical architecture were equally dramatic. The Illinois Landmarks Commission successfully intervened to extract the iconic Ebony test kitchen intact. In 2023, the NMAAHC formally acquired the kitchen for its permanent collection, ensuring that future generations can witness its bold aesthetic firsthand. Concurrently, artist Theaster Gates—with the blessing of Linda Johnson Rice, John Johnson’s daughter—executed a massive salvage operation. Gates retrieved more than 15,000 objects from the abandoned tower, rescuing movable art, furniture, rare books, ephemera, and even physical fragments of the building’s interior finishes. "So much was built into the architecture that you had to take large pieces of wall with you just to remove some things," Gates recalled of the grueling extraction process. "You had to choose the cut to save the body." Barbara Karant’s photographic documentation acts as a vital companion to these physical rescues. Rather than treating the empty rooms as depressing ruins, Karant’s frames capture a "post-occupancy report"—a poignant look at sun-bleached wallcoverings, delaminated veneers, and scuffed furniture that bore witness to decades of groundbreaking work. "I never really felt like it was abandoned because there was so much of the spirit of the company in the building," Karant reflects. Implications for Design, History, and Culture The story of the Johnson Publishing Company headquarters transcends real estate and interior design; it is a vital chapter in the broader narrative of Black economic independence and spatial justice in America. At a time when corporate America overwhelmingly favored sterile, homogenous office environments that reflected white European modernist sensibilities, John H. Johnson carved out a physical space that celebrated Black wealth, sophistication, and self-determination. The building proved that a corporation could anchor its brand identity deeply within its physical workspace without bowing to conventional corporate norms. Today, as downtown urban centers grapple with post-pandemic vacancies, adaptive reuse, and the rapid conversion of commercial offices into residential housing, the fate of 820 S. Michigan Avenue serves as both a cautionary tale and a source of inspiration. While the luxury condos that now occupy the address retain none of the original JPC interiors, the fierce preservation efforts of figures like Karant, Gates, and institutional archivists ensure that the building’s legacy will endure. Ultimately, 820 Ebony/Jet: Visions of the Johnson Publishing Company, an American Icon and the scattered fragments preserved in museums across the country stand as testaments to a radical corporate vision. They remind us that design can be an act of liberation—and that the spaces we build can outlive their physical walls to inspire future generations of creators, thinkers, and entrepreneurs. Post navigation The Paris Motor Show: A High-Stakes Collision Between Heritage and the New Global Order Gridiron Grandeur: Inside the $35 Million Return of Jerry Rice’s Atherton Estate
