During World War II, Chicago was a center for war-related industrial production and its population swelled. The trend did not continue immediately following the war. Between 1945 and 1959, 77 percent of all housing starts in the Chicago area were in the suburbs and most of them were single-family homes.

Most high-rise apartments being built in the city were in areas such as Lincoln Park, north of downtown. Urban construction stagnated. The Inland Steel Building, completed in 1957, was the first building constructed in the Loop in almost 30 years.

The federal government was investing more than $3,000 for every person living in the suburbs, and about $85 per person in the city.

It was Bertrand Goldberg’s belief that people wanted to live downtown. A 1959 survey by the Real Estate Research Corporation of inner-city housing needs concluded that demand would increase for apartment space within walking distance of the Loop.

Meanwhile, William McFetridge, president of the Building Service Employees International Union (now known as the Service Employees International Union), was concerned about his union members not being able to get jobs in the suburbs. He wanted to persuade people to live in town, where wages would be higher.

According to Howard Swibel, son of real estate developer Charles Swibel (1927-1990), all William McFetridge knew was that he wanted to invest his union’s pension fund not so much in stocks and bonds, but in something progressive – something that would help people. He mentioned this to Charles Swibel, who suggested the union invest in housing. Specifically, housing for working people.

Originally, the thought was to build housing that was affordable to union members. Says Howard, “It turns out that even though the apartments were not expensive, I wouldn’t say a typical janitor could afford it. But it helped the community.”

Housing was an area in which Charles Swibel had experience. In 1955, at age 29, he became the youngest member of the Chicago Housing Authority board of directors. He had been appointed by newly-elected Richard J. Daley as a favor to Arthur X. Elrod, who was county commissioner and 24th Ward Committeeman.

Investing its large pension fund, the union awarded Goldberg the commission to develop Marina City on a site the architect had first recommended as a location for a new union headquarters. The union had rejected that proposal as too expensive.

The site was purchased by Swibel, a close friend of McFetridge, who optioned the property for $3 million. That meant, for a time, they had the exclusive right to purchase the property for $3 million at a future date. However, the actual amount paid up front for the option could have been closer to $300,000.

Swibel, then president of the mortgage banking firm Marks & Company, would later be chairman of the troubled Chicago Housing Administration, and eventually forced to resign by the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development over claims of mismanagement.

In their book, American Pharaoh: Mayor Richard J. Daley: His Battle for Chicago and the Nation, Elizabeth Joel Taylor and Adam Cohen describe McFetridge and Swibel as “extremely close to Daley” and that the $3 million ($21 million in 2007 dollars) paid for the Marina City site was “well below market value.”

However, this was one of the first “air rights” deals in Chicago, development of the empty space above a property. Explains Howard Swibel, “If you’re operating the railroad, you need the land because you’ve got to put tracks in, you’re not looking at it as a revenue producer. Somebody comes along and says, ‘how about we buy the air space above your tracks,’ it’s like a bonanza. It’s gravy. It’s ‘found money.’”

The same railroad tracks led to 200 South Riverside Plaza, an office building in the West Loop which also was built on air rights.

Architect Bertrand Goldberg (left) presents a model of Marina City to William McFetridge (center) and Charles Swibel (right). Curiously, according to The Art Institute of Chicago, the architectural model of Marina City is missing. Says Lori Boyer, Exhibitions and Collections Manager, “It’s one of the mysteries of the building, as it was sizable and not easily moved or stored.” Geoffrey Goldberg, the architect’s son, says the last time he saw it, in 1980, the balcony railings were starting to fall off.