In another city, the John Hancock tower wouldn't be anything special -- just another reflective glass box in the crowd. But because of the way Boston and the rest of New England has grown up architecturally, this "70's modern" building stands out from the rest. Instead of being colonial, it breaks new ground. Instead of being quaint, it soars and imposes itself on the skyline. And Instead of being white like so many buildings in the region, this one defies the local conventional wisdom and goes for black. For these reasons and more the people of Boston have fallen in love with the 790-foot monster looming as the tallest building in New England at the time of its completion. In the mid-1990's, The Boston Globe polled local architects who rated it the city's third best architectural structure. Much like Boston's well-loved baseball team, the building has had a rough past, but still perseveres, coming back stronger to win the hearts of its fans. The trouble began early on. During construction of the foundation the sides of the pit collapsed, nearly sucking Trinity Church into the hole. Then in late January, 1973 construction was still underway when a winter storm rolled into town and a 500-pound window leapt from the tower and smashed itself to bits on the ground below. Another followed. Then another. Within a few weeks, more than 65 of the building's 10,344 panes of glass committed suicide, their crystalline essence piling up in a roped-off area surrounding the building. The people of Bean Town have always been willing to kick a brother when he's down, and started calling the tower the Plywood Palace because of the black-painted pieces of wood covering more than an acre of its façade. Some people thought the building was swaying too much in the wind, and causing the windows to pop out. Some thought the foundation had shifted and it was putting stress of the structural geometry. It turns out the culprit was nothing more than the lead solder running along the window frame. It was too stiff to deal with the kind of vibrations that happen every day in thousands of office buildings around the world. So when John Hancock Tower swayed with the wind, or sighed with the temperature, the windows didn't and eventually cracked and plummeted to Earth. It cost $7,000,000.00 to replace all of those panes of glass. The good news is, you can own a genuine piece of the skyscraper. According to the Globe, the undamaged sheets were sold off for use as tabletops, so start combing those garage sales. For any other skyscraper, the hardship would end there. But the Hancock building continued to suffer indignities. The last, and most ominous, was revealed by Bruno Thurlimann, a Swiss engineer who determined that the building's natural sway period was dangerously close to the period of its torsion. The result was that instead of swaying back-and-forth like a in the wind like a metronome, it bent in the middle, like a cobra. The solution was putting a pair of 300-ton tuned mass dampeners on the 58-th floor. The same engineer also determined that while the $3,000,000.00 mass dampeners would keep the building from twisting itself apart, the force of the wind could still knock it over. So 1,500 tons of steel braces were used to stiffen the tower and the Hancock building's final architectural indignity was surmounted.