Op-Ed by Phyllis Lambert, May 15th 2015

MONTREAL — THE Seagram Building is one of the architectural masterpieces of the 20th century, and arguably the most significant modern building in New York City. At its center is the Four Seasons, perhaps America’s most famous restaurant and an architectural gem itself, having won landmark protection in 1989.

But the building’s owner, RFR Holding, is proposing changes that would destroy the restaurant’s historical value. If the changes are approved at a Landmarks Preservation Commission hearing on Tuesday, they would do more than ruin a hallmark of modern architecture. They would undermine the meaning of landmark preservation in America.

I have long believed that great architecture makes great cities. In the early 1950s I persuaded my father, Samuel Bronfman, the president of the Seagram Company, to hire the architects Ludwig Mies van der Rohe and Philip Johnson to design his company’s New York headquarters. As the project’s director of planning, I made sure there was no interference, and no expense was spared in helping them realize their dream. (Seagram sold the building in 1980.)

The Pool Room at the Four Seasons in 1960. Credit Leonard Stern
The Pool Room at the Four Seasons in 1960. Credit Leonard Stern

When RFR Holding, co-founded by the developer Aby J. Rosen, first submitted its changes to the restaurant space, it failed to notify the Four Seasons’ owners and to offer details about its plans, giving the impression that it was just a matter of overdue repairs and cleaning. Maybe RFR hoped to avoid a fight, having won a bruising battle last year over the right to remove an iconic Picasso stage curtain from the restaurant.

But these intentions didn’t stay secret. They included drastic alterations like replacing the wine cellar with toilets and ruining the exacting proportions of the lobby to make room for a bigger coat room. Faced with public protest, the company pulled back some of these, but is still proposing several disastrous alterations, including opening the top panels of the French walnut wall, killing the proportions of the Pool Room, and replacing the fissured glass partition in the Grill Room with planters (Mr. Johnson’s wise alteration notwithstanding).

These changes may seem like minor details. And maybe they would be, in a different restaurant. But the beauty of the Four Seasons, and its significance as an architectural landmark, is precisely in those details. It is like a symphony: Every instrument has its place. Remove one part, and the ensemble collapses.