
It is difficult to convey a sense of the scale of this enormous clock, but seeing it looming behind the rowhouses of 21st Street gives us some idea.
The Second Empire style is named after the Second French Empire of Napoleon III. Its most obvious characteristic is the mansard roof with dormers, which supposedly arose in France because, in buildings that were taxed by their interior space, attics were not taxed, and the space under the roof counted as an attic no matter how accommodating it was. The building here at the corner of Carson and 18th Streets is a splendid example of the Pittsburgh implementation of the style.
This church at the corner of Sarah and 20th Streets is a good example of a curious phenomenon in old city churches: the sanctuary is on the second floor, with the first floor devoted to meeting halls, classrooms, and offices. This is a common adaptation to very small lots in very crowded neighborhoods like the South Side. Note the difference in brick color along the side wall: the front of the church, with its impressive tower, was a later addition to a more ordinary-looking Presbyterian meeting house.
Information on this building is surprisingly hard to come by. This old article in the City Paper points out how little information there is, and then possibly muddies the waters still more. The City Paper says it was a school, not a temple; other on-line sources insist that it was also a congregation, not just a school; the City Paper (quoting the Post-Gazette) says it was built in the late 1920s; the Pittsburgh Jewish Chronicle says the congregation was founded before 1917 (which is not necessarily when the building was put up). At any rate, it seems not to have been a religious institution very long; the congregation moved to Squirrel Hill. The building now belongs to an advertising agency that, not surprisingly at all, gets nothing but content-free five-star reviews on Google.
It is now apartments, of course; the Polish Falcons have moved to more modest quarters just a few blocks away. A historical marker in front of the building recalls the visit of Paderewski, in his role as one of the founders of modern Poland (though he was probably in town to play at Carnegie Music Hall), to recruit for a Polish army to fight in the First World War and win independence for his long-oppressed country. A falcon still flies from the upper façade.
Addendum: This was built as the First Methodist Episcopal Church of East Birmingham some time before the South Side was taken into Pittsburgh in 1872. It is possible that the architect was Charles F. Bartberger.
More old backstreet stores converted into living spaces on the South Side. As old Pa Pitt mentioned earlier, it is easy to recognize these old backstreet stores. They are usually on corners, and the ground floor shows the distinct traces of its old commercial purpose. Above, two side by side on 23rd Street.
The cheap-looking fluted pilasters, ersatz-colonial multipane windows, roof over the entrance, and pedimented schedule board make it almost certain that this pair of houses combined into one was used as a funeral home.
Not every backstreet storefront has been turned into living space. Once in a while we run across one that is still active as a business, like this salon on Sidney Street.
Looking east from 22nd Street.
It is a peculiarity of Pittsburgh that the city has no alleys. Of course this is not true in any meaningful sense, except one: that no alley is officially called an alley on planning maps. They are usually called “Way,” or sometimes “Street,” and one or two are probably “Avenues.”
However, there was a time when Pittsburgh dared to call an alley an alley, as we can see from the old Larkins Alley sign on the back of St. Casimir’s Church.
The Duquesne Brewery mushroomed into a titanic operation after the Second World War, and then rapidly collapsed in the 1960s and was gone by the 1970s. At its peak it took up three blocks on the South Side, and of course it was famous for the largest clock in the world. This 1899 building, the center of the empire, was abandoned for some time, then taken over by artist squatters, and finally, as the Brew House, became lofts and studios. It is an architectural curiosity, added to over the course of the brewery’s history with some regard for consistent style but no regard at all for symmetry.
This splendid apartment block in Oakland occupies an awkward plot. The intersection is not precisely perpendicular, which means the plot is not precisely rectangular. The architect has attacked this problem by making a staggered façade along Craig Street, skillfully manipulating the ornamentation so that it appears to be more symmetrical than it is. In this picture, the ground floor—given over to retail shops—is being renovated.