HistoricSiteMarkers
Postwar & Contemporary

The Big Chair of Anacostia

Washington, District of Columbia, District of Columbia

Marker Inscription

THE BIG CHAIR RE-DEDICATION APRIL 25, 2006 THIS COMMUNITY LANDMARK REPRESENTS THE CURTIS COMPANIES LONG-STANDING ALLEGIANCE TO THE NEIGHBORHOOD AND STEADFAST COMMITMENT TO UNITY, PROSPERITY, AND GOOD WILL TO ALL WASHINGTONIANS AND FRIENDS OF ANACOSTIA.

The Story

Towering nearly twenty feet over Martin Luther King Jr. Avenue, the Big Chair has anchored the heart of Anacostia since the late 1950s, when the Curtis Brothers furniture company commissioned it as a giant advertisement and neighborhood curiosity. Once billed as the world's largest chair, it became a beloved meeting spot and an unofficial symbol of the Southeast Washington community. The 2006 re-dedication marked the chair's restoration and its enduring place in local identity long after the furniture store had closed.

Why it matters

The Big Chair demonstrates how a roadside commercial gimmick can mature into a cherished community symbol, embodying the identity and pride of historic Anacostia.

The story behind this marker

AI context

The era

In the years after World War II, American commerce had a flair for the gigantic. Roadside attractions — oversized objects built to catch the eye of passing drivers — sprouted along streets and highways as businesses competed for attention in a newly mobile, car-centered country. A giant chair, a colossal coffeepot, an enormous shoe: these were the billboards of their day, designed to make you slow down, point, and remember the name on the sign.

Anacostia, in the southeastern corner of Washington, D.C., was a working community on the far side of the river from the monuments and museums most visitors picture. In the late 1950s it was a neighborhood of shops and families, and a furniture company run by the Curtis Brothers anchored a busy commercial stretch along what is today Martin Luther King Jr. Avenue.

It was here, against this postwar backdrop of optimism and showmanship, that the Big Chair rose — a piece of advertising bold enough to become a landmark.

People & events

The chair was the idea of the Curtis Brothers, the family behind a local furniture business. What better way to advertise a furniture store than to build a chair so big you couldn't miss it? Towering close to twenty feet over the street, it was promoted as the world's largest chair — a claim that was equal parts marketing and civic bragging rights.

For decades the Big Chair did exactly what it was built to do, and then much more. It drew curious onlookers, gave neighbors a place to meet, and quietly slipped from being a sales gimmick into being a shared point of pride. Generations grew up knowing it simply as "the Big Chair," a landmark you measured your own life against.

The furniture store eventually closed, as old businesses do. But the chair stayed. In 2006 it was restored and re-dedicated — a moment that formally recognized what the neighborhood already knew: this was no longer just the Curtis company's chair, but Anacostia's. The re-dedication celebrated the company's long ties to the community and its hope for unity and good will among all who call the area home.

Its place in the American story

The Big Chair belongs to a beloved national tradition — the roadside colossus, that very American urge to build something absurdly large to make a point. Across the country, oversized objects like this one tell the story of postwar advertising, the rise of car culture, and the showmanship of mid-century Main Street commerce.

But this chair carries an added meaning. Anacostia is one of the historic heart of Black Washington, a community with deep roots and a strong sense of identity. That a commercial advertisement could grow into a cherished neighborhood emblem — and survive long after the business that built it was gone — says something about how communities adopt and reshape the landmarks around them.

In that way, the Big Chair is a small but telling chapter in a larger American story: how the everyday objects of commerce can become carriers of memory, pride, and place.

If you visit

You'll find the Big Chair along Martin Luther King Jr. Avenue in Anacostia, in Southeast Washington — well worth the trip across the river from the city's more famous sights. Look up. It's hard to grasp the scale until you're standing beneath it, craning your neck at a chair built for a giant.

Take a moment to picture the busy storefront that once stood here and the family business that dreamed it up. The store is long gone, but the chair remains the unmistakable center of the neighborhood, the kind of spot locals use to give directions and mark the years.

If you're piecing together a different side of Washington — one beyond the monuments — the Big Chair pairs naturally with a wider wander through historic Anacostia. It's a quick stop, an easy photo, and a reminder that some of the best landmarks started life as nothing more than a clever way to sell a sofa.

Written by AI to add context, grounded in the marker’s inscription and the historical record. The inscription above is the original, unaltered text.

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  • · Curtis Brothers

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African American HistoryIndustry & InventionLandmark

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