
The Tortorelli family monument in Calvary Cemetery is a huge rustic stone cross. This afternoon storm clouds were approaching behind it, and Father Pitt had to take pictures. Then he almost, but not quite, outran the rain.
The Tortorelli family monument in Calvary Cemetery is a huge rustic stone cross. This afternoon storm clouds were approaching behind it, and Father Pitt had to take pictures. Then he almost, but not quite, outran the rain.
Pittsburghers who remember the days before we had the largest museum in the world dedicated to a single artist will remember this as the Volkwein’s building, which housed one of the largest music stores in North America. (Volkwein’s moved to the western suburbs, where the tradition of carrying more music than anyone else continues.) But it was built as a warehouse for the Frick & Lindsay Company, a purveyor of “industrial supplies.” If warehouses were commonly as splendid as this, there would be regularly scheduled tours of the warehouse district.
No one knows who designed the original building, but in a Post-Gazette article from 1993 (when the building was under restoration), Walter Kidney suggests the William G. Wilkins Co. (Update: We have confirmed that the William G. Wilkins company were the architects.1 Specifically, the building seems to have been designed by Joseph F. Kuntz, who worked for Wilkins.) The details were originally in terra cotta, but the cornice had been entirely removed and other details were damaged. During the restoration, the cornice and some of the other decorations were reconstructed in glass-reinforced concrete from photographs, records, and imagination.
The Frick of Frick & Lindsay was William Frick, a distant relative of the famous robber baron Henry Clay Frick.
Originally a German Catholic church. The building has long been abandoned by its former Catholic congregation (which merged with St. Peter’s), and now bears a sign for Deliverance Center Original Church of God. It could use some work, but the basic structure looks sound.
Old Pa Pitt took this composite picture back in April and then forgot about it. Here it is now. It’s quite large, so don’t click on the picture if you’re on a metered connection.
We have had some very artistic clouds today. This is the view from Spring Hill.
This building has a curious history, only part of which is revealed by the capsule history on the congregation’s Web site:
“In 1917, SS. Peter and Paul Russian Orthodox Church was established in this building. In the early 1930’s due to economic realities, the faithful of SS. Peter and Paul lost their building, and were forced to move. In January of 1943, the present Church structure and parish home were regained by the faithful of SS. Peter and Paul Russian Orthodox Church and in keeping with tradition, the Church was renamed in honor of the Theotokos.”
This paragraph leaves out the origin of the building, which (according to the two date stones) was put in its present form in 1886; the date 1862 is either the date of the foundation of the former congregation or the date when the church was originally built, with a large expansion in 1886. The architecture is clearly American Protestant. “Economic realities” almost certainly means “running out of money.” But “in keeping with tradition” is not well explained: it suggests a Russian tradition that dictates that, when you buy a building from a Protestant church that’s moving out, and then lose it to an economic depression, and then win it back again in a poker game or something, you ditch the saints you came in with and rename it for St. Mary. An Orthodox reader may be able to explain the tradition better to Father Pitt.
At any rate, the church has been Holy Assumption for more than seventy years now, and it is one of the few really successful congregations on the South Side Flats—where others are losing members, this one seems to be growing and thriving.
“Earth’s greenest skyscraper” is getting closer and closer to completion. Here we see it in its current state.
Another picture of this building, this time a composite made from four separate photographs. There is no reason not to repeat what Father Pitt wrote the last time he mentioned the Schiller Glocke Gesang und Turn Verein:
On the whole, the South Side Flats were East European and the Slopes were German. But a large neighborhood like the Flats has room for diverse microneighborhoods, and we find this “Schiller’s Bell Singing and Athletic Society” on Jane Street. The building is now turned to other uses, but the inscription remains. Pittsburgh and Allegheny used to be full of German singing societies; the Teutonia Männerchor in Dutchtown is the most prominent remnant.
The unusually deserted interior of a 4200-series trolley (number 4239 in this case) as it runs in the subway between Steel Plaza and Wood Street. The 4200 cars are Siemens SD-400 LRVs built in the 1980s and rebuilt a few years ago; they are almost identical inside to the newer 4300 series, built by CAF.
In spite of the difference in color, these two very decorative mushrooms appear to be the same species; they were both growing in the same shaded lawn in Mount Lebanon in the middle of June. They are almost certainly a species of Russula, and perhaps Russula emetica; but Father Pitt is not at all sure that the exact species can be identified from a photograph. Any mushroom expert is invited to correct his identification.
Built in 1921 for the Keystone Grocery and Tea Company, a grocery chain that did not live a long life (Father Pitt has not been able to find any reference to it after 1927), this is now Shannon Hall, student housing for the Art Institute of Pittsburgh. It is a fine example of how a utilitarian building can be made, if not beautiful, at least not ugly, by well-worked-out proportions and a tasteful choice of materials.