The newer Saint Joseph School was built just after the Second World War; this one, however, predates St. Joseph’s Church. Old maps show a frame building here in 1882, and a brick one of the same dimensions in 1890; either this building replaced an older one at some point in the 1880s, or the frame building was shrouded in brick. The restrained classicism is unusual for the era; old Pa Pitt does not know how much the building has changed from its original state.
Concrete block was never a very popular material for houses in Pittsburgh, but we find a fair number of concrete-block houses scattered here and there. Few of them reach these imposing dimensions. This house was built for members of the same Kountz family that also owned the Second Empire mansion next door. Today it is divided into apartments, but except for the fire escape and the third-floor window, few significant changes have been made to the exterior.
A matching concrete-block garage with rooms above, perhaps a chauffeur’s apartment, was built later.
Old Pa Pitt will admit to finding these rusticated concrete blocks unattractive, perhaps even aesthetically disturbing. Individually, each block is cast to resemble rough-hewn stone, which is all very well; but when you have a whole wall of the things, the fact that they are all identical instantly destroys the illusion, and instead rubs our noses in the fakery. Smooth-faced concrete blocks, on the other hand, can be very attractive.
Homewood is showing considerable signs of revitalization, but there are still long stretches of what used to be the commercial district that are nearly deserted. Here is a block of Frankstown Avenue that seems typical of the area: about a third of the buildings demolished, a third abandoned, and a third still inhabited and straggling along. We begin with an apartment building with two storefronts that has been kept standing by low-budget renovations.
The private club “WEMCO” seems to be thriving, and the small apartment building that goes with it is not only well maintained but also kept scrupulously tidy.
Two abandoned buildings that will probably be taken down sooner or later. Because they have been abandoned, they preserve details that might otherwise have been replaced by cheap renovations.
Here is an interesting answer to the question of how to make attractive dwellings over a storefront. The grand arched entrance to the apartments sets them apart from the business downstairs and makes them feel like a real home, not a temporary way station.
This duplex with inset balconies looked a lot better before the lower balcony or porch was filled in, but we can see what it was aiming for.
There was a time when even the humble gas station was expected to make an attempt at being an ornament to its neighborhood, and the little buildings were designed by real architects. This little service station right at the end of the Larimer Avenue bridge probably dates from the 1920s, and it has had very few alterations. On the one hand, it makes no attempt to disguise what it is; on the other hand, the polygonal office and shop in front creates an impression of welcoming domesticity that makes the business seem like a friendly neighbor.
For two decades Pittsburgh streetcars have worn their checkerboard coats, a design old Pa Pitt must confess he never really liked very much. A whole generation has grown from infancy to adulthood since the last time that livery was changed. Here comes a two-car train into Potomac station in Dormont, and the first car is still wearing its old Port Authority suit. But the second—
—is dressed in the new Pittsburgh Regional Transit livery, which Father Pitt thinks is an improvement.
He cannot stop himself from thinking of it as the Odd Fellows livery, since the three links have been the Odd Fellows’ emblem since the sixth day of creation. But we could do worse than to have Odd Fellows rolling down our streetcar tracks.
The three links on the Odd Fellows lodge in Hazelwood…
…and on the Odd Fellows Hall in the West End.
On a recent visit to Indiana (Pennsylvania), a city on the periphery of the Greater Pittsburgh metropolitan area, old Pa Pitt was both disappointed and delighted to find the old Indiana County Courthouse shrouded in scaffolding—disappointed because it meant he could not get a clear picture of the building, but delighted because it meant that the building is getting the loving care it deserves. It was finished in 1870; the architect was James W. Drum, who designed several other prominent buildings in Indiana. The gilded cupola is the distinctive feature of the Indiana skyline, and the clock keeps the correct time.
Right now you could buy an interesting piece of Pittsburgh Italian history. This was built as the First Italian Presbyterian Church; later it was known as Trinity Presbyterian, and then the building was taken over by the Agape Christian Fellowship. But now the building is for sale. It seems to be in good shape externally, including a spire that does not look very bedraggled at all.
The architect of the church, built in 1902–1903, was D. E. Sheridan, who was based in East Liberty.1 In addition to the usual run of middle-class houses and small commercial buildings, he had a number of clients in the South and Southwest, according to a short biography of him published in 1907, which is backed up by listings in trade journals. The half-round protrusion probably tells us that the church was built on the Akron Plan.
But Italian Presbyterians? Aren’t Italians all Roman Catholics? Let the retired pastor of the church explain it:
The opinion held by most Americans is that the Italians are staunch Roman Catholics. The fact that Rome is the seat of the Roman Pontiff and that most of the Popes have been Italian, makes this widely held opinion sound very logical.
But the historical and religious background of the Italian Immigrants lead us to an entirely different conclusion. To understand their religious attitude, we must remember that the struggle for the unification of Italy alienated from the Roman Church practically all the Italian Patriots. The Italians knew that the Vatican had opposed the noble dreams of Mazzini and Garibaldi, and that it had gone so far as to excommunicate them. They remembered that on September 20, 1870, when the Italian troops entered the Eternal City and proclaimed it to be the capital of the United Kingdom of Italy, the Pope issued a scathing protest against the Italian Government and locked himself in the Vatican. This anti-Italian stand of the Vatican, coupled with the corruption of the clergy, alienated most of the intelligent, patriotic Italians from the Roman Catholic Church. They retained a sentimental attachment to the church, but had no respect for the Clergy. This understandable politico-religious attitude became known as “anticlericalismo.”
Many of the Italian immigrants who settled in East Liberty were avowed anti-clerical. This attitude did not necessarily lead them to seek the purity of the Gospel of Salvation in Jesus Christ, but it kept them free from the oppressive domination of the priests.2
Thus, when Presbyterian missionaries came to the neighborhood, they found a number of Italians ready to hear their message of a Christianity with no popes. The majority of Italians in Pittsburgh remained Catholic, however, and this was never a very large congregation.
It would hardly seem like Pittsburgh if we didn’t include a good batch of utility cables in at least one picture.
Allegheny West never quite became a slum, but it was down on its luck for a while. Over the past few decades it has very gradually turned into an expensive and trendy neighborhood, and the Western Avenue business district is lively and full of interesting one-off restaurants and shops. In a short stroll, we see some of the variety of commercial and domestic buildings that line one side of the street.
Thomas Hannah designed this unusual church, which was built in about 1917.1 We find many churches in Pittsburgh where the sanctuary is upstairs, with Sunday-school rooms and social halls on the ground floor; this appears to be one of the very few where there are rooms above the sanctuary. It is still Presbyterian, but in 1961 came into the hands of the Bethesda United Presbyterian congregation.
When you look at this church, it looks back.
Originally a Catholic hospital, later known as just Pittsburgh Hospital. Now it is the Champion City Nursing and Rehabilitation Center. The main building was put up in about 1902; the architects were Schickel & Ditmars of New York,1 who were most famous for Catholic churches, including the immense Basilica of the Sacred Heart in Newark, but also designed a number of hospitals.
The addition on the Frankstown Avenue end has not weathered well.
Postwar additions might have been designed by Press C. Dowler, who we know designed the School of Nursing behind the hospital in 1946 (which we’ll see soon).
