The Hall of Sculpture was designed as a model of the interior of the Parthenon. It used to be crowded with plaster casts of antique sculptures; most of the casts have been moved to the Hall of Architecture, leaving the Hall of Sculpture mostly empty except when special exhibits are mounted there.
Back when tuberculosis was incurable, the best medical wisdom held that plenty of fresh air was essential for tuberculosis patients. Thus this hospital for tuberculosis was given a parklike setting with plenty of pleasant areas for sitting around in the healthful outdoors. Now that it is a retirement home called Milliones Manor, the beautifully landscaped grounds are just as welcome.
The main building was designed by E. P. Mellon, nephew of Andrew Mellon. Other buildings—Father Pitt has not sorted out which is which—were designed by other local stars, including Benno Janssen and Ingham, Boyd & Pratt.
The lot is a steep and complex slope, but this is an Ingham & Boyd design, and therefore it is symmetrical at all costs. The style is the usual restrained Ingham & Boyd classicism with no columns (they disliked columns) done in white brick, their favorite material for schools, with terra-cotta accents around the entrance.
Much effort has been put into keeping this landmark building in good shape and in use, and we wish success to the enterprising community members who are trying to find tenants for it.
Four houses on Stanton Avenue, which is the line that separates Highland Park from East Liberty. First, two that obviously go together, though they differ in a few details.
Here is a house we might describe as center-hall-Colonial-Baroque.
The Baroque details of the central dormer need a bit of restoration. We hope they can be repaired rather than simply replaced with simpler wood (or aluminum or vinyl).
Finally, a house that is more than twenty years younger than its neighbors; the lot was still vacant in 1923, according to plat maps.
Ever since Lord Elgin bought the Parthenon sculptures and other bric-a-brac on eBay in the early 1800s, there have been debates about whether the Turks had any right to sell them, and whether they really ought to be where they are (in the British Museum), or whether they ought to be back in Athens. The arguments are still going on, and the United Nations has tried to sort out the dispute to no avail.
But here they are in Pittsburgh, and no one has to have a fight about it, because these are plaster casts of the originals. They are almost indistinguishable visually from the original art, and they can be experienced in three dimensions like the originals, and you don’t have to cross the Atlantic to see them.
In the late 1800s, the world’s great museums had the idea that it would be good for people to be able to experience the great sculpture and architecture of the world in three dimensions, just as if it were in their own city. The craft of making plaster casts had been brought to a peak of perfection, and museums eagerly bought up these casts and formed large collections.
Then, as the twentieth century rolled on, the collections became mortal embarrassments. Art was valuable only if it was original, and plaster casts are not original. Only three of the great plaster-cast collections survive, and this is one of them. It is the only one that was never kicked out of its original home.
Museum curators are beginning to wake up to the value of these collections. From a visual point of view, the experience of viewing them is almost exactly the same as the experience of viewing the originals. An art student can sketch them from different angles, can observe how the shadows fall across the drapery, can crane her neck to look at the bits that aren’t visible in photographs.
Father Pitt is sure that someone, somewhere, can find a reason for being angry about these plaster casts. But for most sane people, here are some of the remaining glories of classical art for you to enjoy guilt-free and without a passport.
The Stanley was designed as a silent-movie palace, but opened in 1928, just as talkies were making a revolution in the movie business. The architects were the Hoffman-Henon Company of Philadelphia. It was the biggest theater in Pittsburgh when it opened, and as the Benedum Center for the Performing Arts it is still our biggest theater now.
The skyscraper behind the theater is the Clark Building, which was built at the same time and designed by the same architects as part of the same development package.
More pictures of the Stanley Theater.
St. Richard’s parish was founded in 1894 and immediately put up a temporary frame church. Two years later, a rectory—obviously meant to be permanent—was designed by J. A. Jacobs in a restrained version of the Queen Anne style.
In 1907, the parish started building a school, which would also have temporary facilities on the ground floor for the church until a new church building could be built. It was partly financed by “euchre and dance” nights.
Father Pitt has not yet succeeded in finding the name of the architect, but he has found a lot of newspaper announcements of euchre and dance nights.
The permanent church was not yet built in 1915 when this convent, designed by Albert F. Link, was put up. Although the second-floor windows have been filled in with much smaller windows, and the art glass has been replaced with glass block, the proportions of the building are still very pleasing.
We note a pair of stained-glass windows in one of the filled-in spaces on the second floor. If Father Pitt had to guess, he would guess that they came from one of the central windows that are now filled in with glass block.
It turns out that the permanent church was never built. The dwindling congregation continued to meet for Mass on the ground floor of the school until the parish was suppressed in 1977. The school became St. Benedict the Moor School, and the ground floor was finally converted into the classrooms it had been designed for. Later the school moved to larger facilities at the former Watt Public School, but the parish kept up the old building as an events center.
This interesting modernist church was built in 1963, as we find from the attractive plaque by the entrance:
The balance of modern design and hand-crafted artisanship in the lettering is very appealing.
The architects of the church were Williams & Trebilcock.1 The church was dedicated on April 5, 1964; it replaced a building that had been next to the old Presbyterian Hospital. This building now belongs to Living Word Ministry.
