The sculptor, Isaac Broome, was very well regarded in his day (this monument dates from 1867), and his works may be found in a number of American museums. Old Pa Pitt is not sure what the wand represents, and would be delighted if someone would enlighten him.
Unfortunately this memorial was executed in soft stone that has decayed considerably over the last century and a half. It’s still impressive, though, and the erosion gives one the sense of confronting the distant past face to face.
Avery was a notable abolitionist who founded the Allegheny Institute and Mission Church, later Avery College, whose mission was to provide an education meeting the highest standards for free black students of both sexes. (The rumor had it that it was also a stop on the Underground Railroad, which is quite likely, given Avery’s strong feelings about slavery.) Avery’s monument is decorated with allegorical sculptures whose mutilation over the years makes their meaning hard to interpret. This blindfolded woman has lost her right hand and whatever she was holding in it. Was she Justice?
This young mother, again, has lost part of her right hand, and probably some allegorical attribute with it.
This mutilated relief may depict Avery College in the background; though it survived till about 1970 in Dutchtown, Father Pitt has not found a picture of the building. The headless figure at right has the rotund torso of the Rev. Charles Avery; the other figures seem to be some of the Negro citizens who benefited from his work. Father Pitt is not sure what the ship has to do with the story; Avery was not one of those colonizationists who believed in sending Africans back to Africa. He believed that education would make the Negro an equal citizen in the United States. He did, however, sponsor missions to Africa, and perhaps the ship represents those.
Mr. J. B. Ford was the founder of the glass empire that today is PPG, and his mausoleum spared no expense. These statues flank the entrance.
You have to look hard to find her, but this statue, a gift from Henry Phipps to his conservatory, is still kneeling in the jungle to the left of the main entrance as you walk into the palm house.
The statue of St. Paul (by Joseph Sibbel) over the main entrance to St. Paul’s Cathedral in Oakland. He is reading from, presumably, one of his own letters, and he casually holds the sword that beheaded him.
The Park Building, designed by George B. Post and built in 1896, is a feast of classical detailing, and probably our oldest existing skyscraper, depending on our definition of “skyscraper.” (The Conestoga Building, built in 1892, is our earliest steel-cage building, but it is only seven storeys high.)
No one knows for sure who sculpted the row of telamones that hold up the roof, but it is certainly one of Pittsburgh’s most memorable and yet most neglected sights—neglected because few pedestrians ever look up to see the figures glowering down at them.
The Park Building is at Fifth Avenue and Smithfield Street, a short walk from either Steel Plaza or Wood Street subway station.
The Columbus memorial by Frank Vittor, in Schenley Park at the end of the Junction Hollow Bridge, is heroic and more than a little Art Deco. A historical marker nearby tells us a little about the artist, who was Pittsburgh’s favorite monumental sculptor for decades.
An unusual bronze monument with a wealth of detail. Father Pitt has uploaded this picture at 2-megapixel resolution; click on the picture to enlarge it.
Joseph Hone, the department-store baron, certainly had enough money for a mausoleum, but chose to be remembered by this beautiful monument instead. Because the relief is worth examining, old Pa Pitt has given you this picture in a larger size than usual: click on it to load the picture in your browser, then magnify it to full size.
Frank Vittor gave us these striking classical dolphins for Pittsburgh’s parks, and a number of them remain in place and working. Some kindhearted soul has set out a water dish for the many dogs who come to walk their people in Highland Park.
