Designed by Washington (D. C.) architect Philip Morison Jullien, the Fairfax was one of the grandest apartment houses in Pittsburgh when it opened in 1927. It certainly isn’t our biggest apartment building now, but it still makes a strong impression as you walk past on Fifth Avenue.
We saw Neville House in color earlier. These three monochrome pictures were taken with a Kodak Retinette made in the middle 1950s. Above, the exit from the porte cochere under the building. Below, the main entrance, including the porte cochere and the patio in front of it.
Thanks to Bodega Film Lab for developing the film and making it worth taking the Retinette out for a walk.
Rooftops of houses on the South Side Slopes, with Oakland and its usual cranes in the background.
Built in 1961–1962, this branch bank conveys the impression of being low and flat. It seems much shorter than it is; our brains don’t process how huge those concrete beams are, but note the height of the people in front. The deliberate lowness is an interesting choice, because the firm that designed it was Skidmore, Owings & Merrill, whose other famous works include the Sears Tower, which was the tallest building in the world for two decades; One World Trade Center, the current tallest building in the Western Hemisphere; and the Burj Khalifa, which so far has not been surpassed.
James D. Van Trump described the building in The Stones of Pittsburgh: “Two great concrete beams cantilevered from slender piers support a concrete roof of great span. A bold and stark essay in pure construction.” The roof extends dramatically from the building to shelter a small parking lot in the rear.
Outsiders visiting Pittsburgh are often surprised to find that, when buildings are in the way, we just drive right through them. This is Henry Street, which goes through the Software Engineering Institute.
Tasso Katselas designed this apartment building, which opened in 1959. James D. Van Trump described it a few years later: “Glass, brick and concrete cage raised into space on arched stilts in the manner of Le Corbusier and at the time it was built the most ‘advanced’ apartment house in Pittsburgh.”
The drama of the building is in those arched stilts. They make approaching the building from the street an event. In typical Katselas fashion, they also solve a practical problem: they make room for a useful porte cochere while allowing the rest of the building to take up as much of its lot as possible.
The Carnegie Lecture Hall is designed to put a large number of people close enough to hear a single lecturer. It was filled to capacity today with people who came to hear poetry, which makes the literate think good thoughts about Pittsburgh. The International Poetry Forum is back after fifteen years of silence, and the first poet to speak was its founder, Samuel Hazo, who at 96 years old seems to be aging backwards.
The interior of the hall as it was filling up.
One of the chief attractions of the main Carnegie Library is the Reference Department, a huge room with a vaulted ceiling where you can walk in and ask a librarian for help on any topic, and then have librarians scurrying back into the stacks looking for obscure volumes to aid you in your research. Think of it this way: at no cost to you, simply by walking into this room, you can have the experience of being a supervillain with an army of minions.
The coffered ceiling was originally full of skylights—a maintenance headache rendered less necessary by bright modern lighting.
Mural decorations—lost for years behind paint, found accidentally in 1995, and carefully restored—pay tribute to famous printers of the Renaissance. A report by Marilyn Holt (PDF) describes the murals in detail. Above, the mark of Aldus Manutius, perhaps the greatest of them all.
Reginaldus Chalderius (or Regnault Chaudière, as he would have been called at home), French printer at the sign of L’homme sauvage.
Balthasar Moretus, Antwerp printer of the middle 1600s.
Thielman Kerver, Parisian printer at the sign of the Unicorn.
Noli altum sapere—“Do not be proud”—say the Estiennes, Parisian printers.
Jean de la Caille reminds us that prudence beats force—Vincit prudentia vires.
Simon Vostre, early French printer.
Many of the details in the decorations are picked out in gold leaf.
Just walking upstairs in the main Carnegie Library is an aesthetic adventure.
The second-floor corridor. At the ends of the corridor are two cherub medallions, identical except for the motto.
Omne labore—“Everything with effort.”
Vivere est cogitare—“To live is to think,” as Cicero said.
There is often a greeter standing in the lobby of the main Carnegie Library in Oakland to say “Welcome to the Library” to every patron who walks through the door. But even when the greeter isn’t greeting, the building itself conveys the same message.
Ornate light fixtures hang in the vestibule and lobby.
