The Gateway Arch "is really a monument to the 20th century and to the height of American power," says historian Tracy Campbell.
The Arch nears completion as the two legs stretch to within 6 feet of their intended 630-foot height on Sept. 25, 1965.
Workmen bring the keystone section into place on Oct. 28, 1965. The crane in the background lifted the 10-ton stainless steel section. The Mississippi River is to the right.
A 60-ton steel strut is lifted into place joining the two towers of the Arch on June 17, 1965.
Credit Fred Waters / AP
Workmen close the gap on Oct. 28, 1965, as they insert a 10-ton keystone, completing three years of construction. A hydraulic jack atop the 630-foot arch forced the structure's legs apart for installation.
The next-to-last 8-foot stainless steel section is fitted into the top of the Arch on Oct. 19, 1965.
Credit Charles W. Harrity / AP
The Gateway Arch was completed on Oct. 28, 1965. It is pictured above in 1976.
Credit Fred Waters / AP
The Gateway Arch in St. Louis was conceived in the 1940s and completed in the 1960s. It was designed to symbolize the opening of the West. Here, it is shown under construction on June 17, 1964.
Credit Yale University Press
Tracy Campbell is a history professor at the University of Kentucky and the author of three previous nonfiction books.
The iconic Gateway Arch — overlooking the Mississippi River from the St. Louis side — took almost a generation to build, but the 630-foot monument hasn't transformed the city as hoped in the four decades that have followed.
Conceived in the 1940s and completed in the 1960s, the history of the signature American symbol is described in Tracy Campbell's new book, The Gateway Arch: A Biography. The story has some surprising twists — including, Campbell says, a very early vision of an arch by the Mississippi:
"Don't put your daughter on the stage," Noel Coward famously cautioned his imaginary Mrs. Worthington, and no wonder: Stage acting is one of the toughest professions imaginable. For all the potential triumph, there's hardly any job security — and more than a little potential for heartbreak and disappointment.
Michele Tafoya is the Emmy award-winning reporter for NBC's Sunday Night Football, but she's spent time on basketball courts, softball diamonds, gymnastics mats and now public radio quiz show game grids.
We've invited Tafoya to play a game called "Enter at your own risk!" As one of the first female reporters to be allowed inside the NFL locker room, she has been a pioneer in her field. But there are still places out there where they believe in cooties, so Tafoya will answer three questions about men's-only clubs.
Arthur Fiala, shown here in 1918 and 2005, was a private in the 26th Company of the 20th Engineers Regiment during World War I.
Credit S.E. Brown / Courtesy of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
Richard Rubin has written for The Atlantic and The New York Times Magazine. His other books include Confederacy of Silence and Everyday American History of the 20th Century.
Credit Courtesy of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
George Briant, shown here in an undated photo and in 2004, recalls Nov. 11, 1918, the day the war ended and the guns fell silent: "You looked like you were in a new land; you couldn't believe that everything is quiet".
Ten years ago, writer Richard Rubin set out to talk to every living American veteran of World War I he could find. It wasn't easy, but he tracked down dozens of centenarian vets, ages 101 to 113, collected their stories and put them in a new book called The Last of the Doughboys. He tells NPR's Melissa Block about the veterans he talked to, and the stories they shared.
Celine and Jesse are sporting a few physical wrinkles — and working through some unsettling relational ones — in Before Midnight, but that just makes this third installment of their once-dewy romance gratifyingly dissonant.
It's been 18 years since they talked through the night that first time, Julie Delpy's Celine enchanting and occasionally prickly, Ethan Hawke's Jesse determined to charm; their chatter then, as now, scripted but loose enough to feel improvised as captured in long, long takes by Richard Linklater's cameras.