Houston has a banger skyline. Actually, Houston, thanks to sprawl, has a few skylines. The Texas Medical Center, Greenway Plaza, the Energy Corridor, and Uptown all demand consideration from their own concentrations of audacious architecture, but obviously, downtown Houston is the star.

Houston is famously flat, geographically speaking. The coastal prairie, aside from the occasional bayou, isn’t burdened with natural, physical barriers. No mountains, but plenty of canyons—that is, the canyons created by downtown Houston’s network of commercial towers, hotels, and, thanks to tax incentives from city hall, residential high-rises. For more than 100 years, the Central Business District has produced ever-taller structures. Today, on all sides of downtown, the views of Houston’s signature glass and steel skyline are stunning.

At the dawn of the twentieth century, Houston was on the verge of hitting the big time. For decades, city leaders were focused on expanding its muddy, inland port and ensuring rail connections to the scrappy commercial waterway, allowing cotton, rice, refined sugar, and timber to travel through the Bayou City. This infrastructure was in place when two epic events secured Houston’s big-city destiny: the devastating hurricane of 1900 that destroyed Galveston, and the world-altering oil strike down the road in Beaumont in 1901.

Houston was booming, and steel-frame construction would allow architects, engineers, and real estate developers to imagine structures far taller than what had been possible years prior. As a prelude to the modern era, Houston’s first high-rise was the Binz Building. Completed in 1895 at Main Street and Texas Avenue, the six-story wood structure had brick and stone cladding, and a very popular novelty: a public elevator. Even though steel surpassed wood in all office building construction, Binz stood until its demolition in 1951. A modern building sits on the site with the same name as its predecessor.

Houston’s first skyscraper, 1905’s First National Bank Building, is actually longer than it is tall, filling an entire city block’s length along Franklin, from Main to Fannin. At eight stories, this is Houston’s first steel-framed structure. In 1909, the narrow building increased its width, as it now appears. The neoclassical, stone-clad office building lives on as the Franklin Lofts and the tony events space the Corinthian.

The first to actually look like a high-rise was the Scanlan Building, completed in 1909. The 11-story commercial building, designed by Chicago architect and skyscraper godfather Daniel Burnham, stands today among other lower Main Street landmarks like Hotel Icon.

In the first decades of the twentieth century, newer buildings would surpass each other on a regular basis. The Scanlan Building was followed by the Carter Building in 1910 (now a JW Marriott), the Houston Post-Dispatch Building in 1926 (now the Magnolia Hotel), and the Niels Esperson Building in 1927.

A new record holder for tallest arrived in 1929 when Jesse “Mr. Houston” Jones opened his National Bank of Commerce building, known throughout the century as the Gulf Building, at Main Street and Rusk. Gothic details adorn the rooflines, which are emphasized after sunset with dramatic lighting at its higher setbacks. The 36-story tower held the tallest title for 34 years, and is now formally known as the JPMorgan Chase Bank Building (not to be confused with the JPMorgan Chase Tower). If Batman were to fight crime in Houston, he would be compelled to pose on top of the Gulf Building.

Built in 1963, the Humble Oil Building was so massive it took a full city block, a new standard for Houston skyscrapers, and needed another city block for a parking garage and mechanical equipment. This 44-story corporate headquarters for Humble Oil and Refining Company (later Exxon) is a beast, standing aloof several blocks from the higher concentration of office buildings to the north. And the panoramic views from the penthouse Petroleum Club reminded guests of Houston’s equally massive footprint.

When Shell Oil moved its headquarters from New York to One Shell Plaza in 1971, the conservative 50-story tower boasted an innovative, structural concrete exterior, clad in travertine. It distinguishes itself from the all-glass shapes that would dominate in the 1970s and 1980s. Due to its long side facing Buffalo Bayou Park, One Shell Plaza effectively reoriented and permanently set the now-iconic, class-photo-lineup of the Houston skyline that persists in countless images of the city, from official portraits to graffiti. With City Hall below, preventing any future skyscraper to rise in front of One Shell Plaza, Houstonians will always see it in the western-facing skyline.

Texas Commerce Tower opened in 1982 with 75 stories and a whopping 1,002 feet. The five-sided, gray monolithic office building seems to go on forever. Before the 60th Floor Observation Lobby was closed to the public, Houstonians could look down to the skyline and occasionally feel the skyscraper sway slightly. Renamed JPMorgan Chase Tower, following Texas Commerce Bank’s journey through various mergers and acquisitions, it remains not only Houston’s tallest, but also tallest in Texas—for now. Down the road in Austin (yes, Austin), the future state record holder will soon top out 20 feet higher than Chase Tower. Y’all took Barbara Jordan, please don’t take this too.

While never in contention for tallest, the iconic Pennzoil Place, since it opened in 1976, is forever burned into the Houston psyche. Like the Empire State Building is to New York City, Pennzoil Place is nearly a logo for Houston itself. It is impossible to imagine the current skyline with those twin trapezoid shapes lurking behind its taller neighbors. Named for yet another oil company anchor tenant, Pennzoil Place is the most Houston high-rise. The Philip Johnson and John Burgee–designed postmodern landmark was developed by none other than legendary Houston-based Gerald Hines, coming on the heels of his grand One Shell Plaza. The architectural masterpiece is confident and understated in its simplified geometry, while maintaining a playful, slightly inscrutable quality. The twin 36-story, crude oil brown towers are only 10 feet apart, and actually share a sloped glass ceiling lobby at their base.

“But what about Transco Tower?” Yes, the flashy Galleria-area landmark has dominated its peers since 1983, and can be seen from nearly all corners of Houston, but it is definitely not Space City’s tallest. As if the 64-story commercial office building weren’t already impossible to ignore, a slowly spinning searchlight commanded Houstonians’ attention in the night’s sky for decades. When the new owners renamed it Williams Tower, they turned off the comforting, once ubiquitous Houston nightlight. No word if the beacon will return.

With the exception of the Binz Building, all of these bona fide landmarks are still standing—due to the strength of their designs, and to the commitment of architectural historians and Houston’s preservation community.