Who Were The Key Figures Behind 'Great Fortune: The Epic Of Rockefeller Center'?

I've always been fascinated by the titans who built Rockefeller Center, and 'Great Fortune' does a brilliant job profiling them. John D. Rockefeller Jr. was the visionary—his gamble to develop midtown Manhattan during the Depression was pure audacity. Then there’s Raymond Hood, the architect who turned sketches into skyscrapers with his Art Deco masterpieces. Don’t forget Todd Robertson, the behind-the-scenes real estate wizard who negotiated deals to keep the project alive when banks were collapsing. The book also highlights Diego Rivera’s infamous mural drama, showing how art and power clashed. It’s a story of guts, genius, and grit colliding to create an icon.

As someone who obsesses over urban history, 'Great Fortune' reveals how Rockefeller Center was a symphony of minds. Rockefeller Jr. wasn’t just funding it; he was orchestrating a cultural revolution, insisting the complex include theaters and gardens to uplift the city. The architects—Hood, Corbett, and Harrison—were radicals. They ditched Beaux-Arts for sleek modernity, using setbacks and aluminum to make buildings feel lighter. Their rivalries fueled innovation, like the race to design the RCA Building’s lightning-fast elevators.

Then there’s the unsung hero: Roxy Rothafel. His Radio City Music Hall wasn’t just a venue—it redefined live entertainment with its precision choreography and hydraulic stages. The book digs into how he clashed with Rockefeller over ‘vulgar’ shows but won crowds with spectacle. Meanwhile, labor unions nearly derailed construction until compromises like the ‘speed-up’ system kept workers paid during delays. The detail about salvaging Indiana limestone during strikes shows how desperation bred creativity.

What stuck with me was the human cost. The chapter on the ‘sky boys’—ironworkers balancing on beams 70 stories up—made my palms sweat. Their strikes for safer conditions changed construction forever. The book doesn’t sanitize Rockefeller’s ruthlessness, like evading artists’ contracts to control Rivera’s communist mural. It’s a warts-and-all portrait of ambition.

Reading 'Great Fortune' felt like uncovering hidden layers of NYC’s crown jewel. Rockefeller Jr. is the obvious star, but the book spotlights his secret weapon: Ivy Lee, the PR genius who spun the project as a ‘monument to hope’ during the Depression. Without Lee’s press tours and photo ops, public opinion might’ve tanked it. Then there’s the wildcard—Nelson Rockefeller, whose art obsession led to the Center’s modernist murals (and the Rivera scandal).

The women get overdue credit too. Abby Aldrich Rockefeller pushed for the inclusion of decorative arts, while Martha Baird’s patronage kept the music hall’s orchestra afloat. Even the demolition crews were key—their salvage of the original Waldorf-Astoria’s marble for the promenade floors was pure thrift meets luxury. The book’s best twist? How rival tycoons like Chrysler tried to sabotage the project by poaching tenants, only to end up inspiring Rockefeller’s sleeker designs. Greed fueled greatness.