Charles Eliot (1859–1897), son of Harvard president Charles W. Eliot, joined Olmsted’s firm as a partner in February 1893. Eliot graduated from Harvard in 1882 and, after studying for a year at the Bussey Institution, Harvard’s department of agriculture and horticulture, entered Olmsted’s office as an apprentice. Over the next two years he traveled with Olmsted frequently. Upon completing his apprenticeship in April 1885, Eliot toured the eastern and southern parts of the United States and on November 5 departed for a year of study in Europe. With the invitation to design the campus of Leland Stanford’s new university looming, Olmsted invited Eliot, who had been studying landscapes in the Mediterranean region, to return and join the firm in that venture, but Eliot decided to continue his study tour and declined.

Upon his return Eliot decided to practice independently and opened an office in Boston in December 1886. In succeeding years he established a modest but growing business, concentrating principally on the grounds of suburban houses and smaller public places. He also began writing about landscape architecture, which Olmsted had urged him to do. Perhaps his most [71]important early essay was a call for the preservation of the Waverly Oaks, a majestic stand of trees in a steep moraine at Belmont and Waltham, Massachusetts. After calling for additional neighborhood parks throughout Boston and adjacent suburbs, Eliot then advocated the preservation of places “characteristic of the primitive wilderness of New England,” and suggested that a private corporation be organized and “empowered by the state to hold small and well distributed parcels of land free of taxes, just as the public library holds books and the art museum pictures—for the use and enjoyment of the public.” That suggestion became, with Eliot’s leadership, the Trustees of Public Reservations. Eliot then tackled the daunting problem of jurisdictional boundaries in the highly fragmented metropolitan region. Taking as its model the early success of the Metropolitan Sewerage Commission, he called for the creation of a park commission authorized to assemble and develop parks and reservations on a metropolitan scale. When state legislation established the Metropolitan Park Commission in 1892, Eliot was named its landscape architect. Eliot called for the commission to embrace five types of areas: beaches, the shores and islands of the bay, tidal rivers and estuaries, large expanses of forest, and smaller parks in densely inhabited areas of the metropolitan region. In important ways Eliot, like his mentor, had begun to envision city and suburb as interrelated parts of a metropolitan region.

Charles Eliot

Even as Eliot’s career was taking shape, he was often in Olmsted’s thoughts, not as a competitor but as a colleague. In 1891, when a potential client contacted Olmsted for a small job, the firm, already overcommitted, recommended Eliot. After reviewing Eliot’s preparation for a career in landscape architecture the letter stated, “we have full confidence in his ability,” and included one of his advertising circulars. With Biltmore and the World’s Columbian Exposition consuming most of Olmsted’s and Henry Sargent Codman’s time, and with John increasingly feeling the burden of work at Brookline, Olmsted wondered if the firm should “combine with Eliot.” While no surviving documents indicate that Olmsted and his partners pursued this idea, Codman’s death in January 1893 forced the issue. Olmsted and John Charles Olmsted each visited Eliot and invited him to join the firm as partner, and in February Eliot made the first trip on the firm’s behalf, with Olmsted, to Chicago to oversee improvements at the World’s Columbian Exposition [72]and park work in other Midwestern cities. According to his father, Eliot had decided to join the Olmsted firm prior to February 1, and the partnership, Olmsted, Olmsted & Eliot, was announced March 1, 1893. Seven months later, Olmsted wrote his friend Frederick Kingsbury and informed him that Eliot had joined the firm: “He is clever; has a fine cultivated taste and some special talents,” he wrote, but added, he “does not yet fill Codman’s place.”

Eliot brought important work to the firm. When Olmsted was thinking about the firm’s most important public work in November 1893, he included Eliot’s projects at the Blue Hills, the Middlesex Fells, the Waverly Oaks, the Charles River, and Revere Beach. These, along with the Muddy River Improvement, would “be points to date from in the history of American Landscape Architecture,” Olmsted predicted, “as much as Central Park.” He also brought energy, much needed as Olmsted’s health and mental acuity declined. As a partner Eliot became immersed in the firm’s ongoing projects but also continued his work with the Trustees of Public Reservations and the metropolitan park system. He also brought to the firm the commission to design the Cambridge, Massachusetts, park system. Other projects that are principally or solely the work of Eliot include the Copp’s Hill Terrace, in Boston, and the subdivision adjacent to Palmer Park in Detroit, as well as the Revere Beach Reservation, the first public oceanfront beach in the United States. Revere Beach is the only park in the metropolitan system for which Eliot developed complete plans prior to his untimely death from meningitis in 1897.

Richard Morris Hunt (1827–1895), the first American architect to complete the course of study at the Ecole des Beaux Arts in Paris, was Olmsted’s collaborator on two of the most important projects of their respective [73]careers, Biltmore and the World’s Columbian Exposition. They also worked together on the construction of the Vanderbilt family mausoleum in New Dorp, Staten Island, as well as the Ogden Goelet estate, Ochre Court, and the Joseph R. Busk estate, Indian Spring, both in Newport, Rhode Island.

Olmsted and Hunt had a long and complicated relationship. They were fellow artist members of the Century Association and had many mutual friends. In 1861 Olmsted described him as “our friend,” but two years later Hunt presented plans for monumental gateways for the southern entrances to Central Park. As Olmsted was then in California, Calvert Vaux led the opposition to the gateways, which he believed were inappropriate given the picturesque scenery of that part of the park. In 1866 Hunt prepared plans for a new building for the New-York Historical Society that the society hoped to build in the park, a proposition Olmsted also opposed.

Olmsted and Hunt clashed again a decade later, when Olmsted, Henry Hobson Richardson, and Leopold Eidlitz were appointed an advisory board to evaluate architect Thomas Fuller’s design for the New York State capitol in Albany. In its April 1876 report the advisory board proposed that the half-complete capitol be finished in a Romanesque style rather than Fuller’s Italian Renaissance design. Hunt, who was then president of the New York chapter of the American Institute of Architects, issued a remonstrance denouncing the mixing of styles in the new plan. In March 1877 Hunt and four other architects testified before a joint legislative committee and condemned the advisory board’s revisions to the capitol. Olmsted also testified before the committee: he asserted that the architects’ public statement about the advisory board’s work was “hasty, inconsiderate {and} that it contained unconsciously & unintentionally, of course, errors of fact and allusions and insinuations for which there did not exist the slightest shadow of justification.”

Richard Morris Hunt, Portrait by John Singer Sargent, 1895

Despite these spirited public disagreements, [74]Olmsted and Hunt experienced a period of intense collaboration, characterized by mutual respect and the ready exchange of ideas, during the final seven years of their professional careers. As Hunt was beginning the design of Biltmore, Olmsted expressed admiration for his preliminary plan but offered two suggestions that proved crucial: the realignment of the house to a north-south orientation so that the views from principal rooms would be west, toward the Blue Ridge Mountains, the vista that initially attracted Vanderbilt to the site; and construction of the stable north of the house, where it would shelter the dwelling and adjacent landscape from harsh winter and early spring winds. Hunt chaired the board of architects of the World’s Columbian Exposition, which unanimously endorsed Olmsted’s site plan at a meeting during the week of January 12, 1891. The architects particularly praised the waterways in the plan as “a very original and beautiful feature of the general design” and added their voice to Olmsted’s in stating that the Wooded Island “should be free from all buildings used for Exposition purposes.” When a proposal to build the Music Hall on the Wooded Island was broached in October 1891, Hunt joined Olmsted in protest.

Their close and fruitful collaboration in these two great projects notwithstanding, Olmsted and Hunt differed in their respective plans for Biltmore Village, a small community of retail shops and modest houses at the north end of the estate. Their differences were both practical and philosophical. Hunt wanted to locate the Estate Office on Hendersonville Road, a public highway that passes through the village, but Olmsted thought that location inappropriate and successfully urged Vanderbilt to place it near the railroad station facing the plaza. More important, Olmsted considered Hunt’s plat for the village too French in character. “I don’t at all like Hunt’s view,” he wrote Charles Eliot; “I don’t like French villages. I do not think that they are suitable to American habits.” Olmsted feared that their disagreements over Biltmore Village would strain their close working relationship: “Hunt is accustomed to have his own way and is more than earnest—is tempestuous—in debate,” he wrote, but once again he persuaded Vanderbilt to adopt his plan for the village, which he described as “the New England ideal rather than the French.”

Another potential strain on their collaboration surfaced with a revival of interest in the Central Park entrances. On May 5, 1895, Olmsted reported to Charles Eliot that Hunt had written him and wanted to discuss “an old proposition of his as to building on the Central Park which has been a very sore subject and as to which I suppose that he must now have an opportunity and backing which he has not heretofore.” Once again Olmsted described Hunt’s “tempestuous, self-willed way of carrying on such discussion” and lamented that he wasn’t looking forward to engaging Hunt on the topic. Although Olmsted did not explain Hunt’s proposal for the park, Frederick Law Olmsted, Jr., who was then at Biltmore, reported that “Father did not answer Hunt’s letter about the Arch at 59th St. & V Ave—Hunt said nothing about it when he has here.” Apparently the project was stillborn.

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The World’s Columbian Exposition and Biltmore marked the culmination of Olmsted and Hunt’s careers, and they were widely recognized for what they had achieved. In June 1893, Hunt became the first American recipient of the Queen’s Gold Medal of the Royal Institute of British Architects.

Hunt died unexpectedly on July 31, 1895, only a month before Olmsted’s failing health and memory forced his retirement.