Opinion: The GEICO building is leaving and the Friendship Heights landscape is forever changed

Its destruction should serve as a wake-up call

By

July 7, 2026 3:45 p.m.

Share

Some places are defined by specific buildings. For more than 20 years, my neighborhood of Friendship Heights was defined by its large, gleaming and glamorous shopping centers—once the “Grande Dames” of retail therapy for the upper-class suburban ladies of Chevy Chase. Yet, another seminal structure defined this era, standing quietly in the shadows like a steadfast modernist monument to the “old” Chevy Chase: the GEICO Building.

Watching the sudden dismantling and gutting of the storied GEICO building from my condo across the street—itself another mid-century architectural gem—is deeply heart-wrenching. It is difficult to understand why the county chose not to spare this historic site. While it may be too late to save the GEICO building, its destruction should serve as a wake-up call.

When the GEICO complex was completed in 1959, the area was undergoing a massive shift. A post-World War II boom was transforming a quiet bedroom community into a commercialized hub. Major corporations were relocating from downtown cores to decentralized suburbs, a trend known as “pastoral capitalism.” For the worker, the benefits were clear: easy parking, beautiful green spaces to relax and an easier commute.

Once completed, this modernist architectural gem stood surrounded by a 26-acre landscaped campus. It featured old-growth trees, a gazebo and little footbridge, lots of parking, and a wide fountain that looked like something straight out of The Jetsons.

- Advertisement -

The Montgomery County Planning Department formally recognized it as an “outstanding example of an International Style complex composed of carefully articulated buildings set in a natural, landscaped campus.” Designed by architect Vincent Kling, the structure embodies the mid-century dominance of the International Style, which emerged in the 1920s. This distinctive style is characterized by minimalist functionalism and the heavy use of industrial materials such as steel, concrete and glass. As the planning department noted, the GEICO complex’s “long low wings are contrasted by taller opaque blocks sheathed in textured porcelain enamel panels and colored, crystal-textured glass panels.”

The GEICO headquarters is more than just an architectural period piece; it evokes a bygone era of American life. Because the building and campus remained virtually unchanged since the 1960s, gazing at it allowed you to picture the ladies of “old” Chevy Chase. You could imagine them stepping out in pastel pillbox hats and matching dresses to browse the polished, storied shelves of Saks Fifth Avenue, or dining on dainty tea sandwiches at Lord & Taylor next door, wrapping up a shopping trip or a tennis match before the kids returned from school.

For long-time residents, the GEICO building was much more than a corporate campus or an architectural relic. It was a soft green oasis where you could relax with family and friends, watching the cherry and apple trees turn vibrant colors in the autumn and burst into pastel pinks and whites in the spring. This is the place where children, including my daughter, took their first steps and learned to ride their bikes. It is where neighbors walked their dogs on cool afternoons, relaxing in the shade of the gazebo and crossing the little wooden bridge over the stream. It felt like a miniature Central Park tucked inside our community.

It is remarkable how quickly the history of a place can fade from collective memory. For instance, I used to laugh out loud at the seemingly ridiculous name of the street across from the campus: Shoemaker Farm. It was only later, while reading local history, that I discovered the entire area was a massive dairy farm just a century ago. Now, I look at the landscape with entirely new eyes, imagining cows grazing on the grass and wandering down the street toward Willard Creek for a drink on a hot summer day.

Sponsored

Sokolow Architects Leads Coastal Design for DC-Area Homeowners

Introducing The Devlin Estate

Featured Now

Many people also forget that Friendship Heights was one of the nation’s first streetcar communities. I love to picture the old streetcar whizzing along Willard Avenue at the end of the workday, delivering groceries to Chevy Chase housewives on its way toward Glen Echo. Perhaps those were simpler times, or perhaps not. Either way, it is comforting to imagine a life lived at a slightly slower pace, unburdened by digital distractions.

In our fast-paced, smartphone-dominated lives, it is easy to lose our physical sense of place. Architectural relics and their surrounding green spaces anchor us both physically and psychically. They serve as tangible reminders of a broader human continuity. This architecture, coupled with expansive green space, provides an intangible benefit to the human spirit—calming the nervous system, sparking the imagination, and connecting us to the art of the past. Strolling past a historic neighborhood treasure reminds us that we belong to a larger story, and coaxes us to slow down and smell the roses.

At a time when massive franchises and technology dominate American life—turning our communities into a homogenous landscape of mere convenience—we must ask ourselves: what remains of our unique history, art and architecture? Do we really want to erase these places so easily? The GEICO building could have become a stunning condominium, a vibrant performance space, or a public library. Its iconic design alone could have made it a destination for those interested in mid-century Americana. With a little creative thinking, adaptive reuse could have yielded massive dividends for the community, transforming the structure into loft-style apartments, a civic center, or a mixed-use retail and office space.

Hopefully, the loss of the GEICO building will force us to think twice the next time a wrecking ball is aimed at a seminal piece of our shared history and community space.

— Chantal Roubachewsky is a resident of Friendship Heights/Chevy Chase, Maryland, mom to a 10-year-old daughter, and a Program Manager for the Federal Government. She enjoys discovering local cultural spaces, volunteering in the community and hiking nearby nature trails with her daughter.

Digital Partners

Originally published at Bethesdamagazine