KEY POINTS:
Every day this week, the Herald has been running readers' photographs of the Sky Tower to mark the 10th anniversary of its opening. The photos have caught the tower in an array of angles, light and settings that might have surprised even those who often marvel at the tower's ability to spring into view in new and splendid combinations of colour.
The tower has made itself more than the top of the Auckland skyline. Never failing to dress for an occasion and erupt in fireworks at the right moment, it has become a beacon of the city's events, a thermometer of its moods, a focus for celebrations, a point of pride.
It hardly seems 10 years since the tower was completed, though it is not hard to remember the mixed reception it had received from the moment it was mooted. Many looked at the model and feared it would be grossly out of scale with the skyline; others disliked the design. The city council did not want it on the originally intended site, Upper Symonds St, for fear it would overwhelm Mt Eden, and gave it a better spot. Still others detested the very idea of such a bold, confident commercial statement dominating the city, and liked it even less for the fact that its creator was a casino.
Those were the mid-1990s, years of rapid economic recovery from the bitter recession that followed the first flush of drastic reform. The nation was still bruised and divided by the experience and a casino, newly legalised in New Zealand, seemed to symbolise the new ethos. The casino was its cathedral and the tower its outsized steeple.
But almost all damning comment died at its completion. The monster was magnificent. It did not matter that it was out of scale with the skyline, it was the skyline. It drew all views, so much so that the only unsatisfactory vantage point in the city was from the tower itself because it could not be seen.
The giant hypodermic quickly became an image to rank with Rangitoto and the Harbour Bridge in representations of Auckland. It has not outranked them, but it is a fond and familiar symbol and has taken the place of One Tree Hill's late, lamented elegant lone pine in the hearts of Aucklanders returning by road. The tower is visible from highpoints 83km north and south, and from the Waitakeres to Waiheke. It gives the region a central point.
Despite its prominence, and shadows cast by the attack on the twin towers, it has attracted remarkably little skylarking or worse. The one incident that has come to public attention involved a mental patient in a light plane last year who threatened to fly into the tower because his wife had left him. Architect Gordon Moller reassured us the main concrete shaft was design to withstand such an accident, as well as fire, 200km/h winds and earthquakes up to 8 on the Richter scale.
The tower provides plenty of approved fun - glass-fronted elevators, a 40-second ride to the top viewing deck, or 1267 steps for the fit, 192m bungy jumps for the brave, and a revolving restaurant with the highest view in town. It is a magnet for visitors and celebrities, and Aucklanders are glad of it.
After 10 years it is hard to imagine Auckland without it, and there has been no suggestion that Sky City would ever have other plans for the site. But it could happen. What then? We suspect many of those who were loudest in their contempt for the original concept, and may still pretend indifference to it, would be the first to call it an icon and campaign for its public purchase and preservation.
It has become an icon, a generous one to the city whenever something should be celebrated. This weekend, we should return the favour, help mark its first 10 years and offer a toast that it may stand many years.
