The dome is the star of this extraordinary building, which was put up in 1904 and is now slowly crumbling. The school behind it, heavily altered, is in use as a personal-care home; the church would be hard to find a use for even in a prosperous neighborhood. It ought to be preserved, but its most likely fate is to continue to crumble until it finally becomes too dangerous to leave standing.
Adopting and heavily modifying an idea from Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, Philip Johnson surrounded the buildings of PPG Place with glass colonnades that create an inviting transition between inside and outside.
This row of houses on Howe Street has a distinctly Dutch or Flemish look. The Flemish style is not unknown in Pittsburgh, but it is rare to see a row of five houses in that style at once. (For another example of multiple Flemish houses, see the Osterling row in Brighton Heights.)
This house, like many in Shadyside, has had part of its basement turned into a garage, with a steep driveway dug out of the front yard.
It is delightful to see that the intricate woodwork on the front porch has been preserved.
The angles and curves that make the gable look so Antverpian are made of iron or steel, as we can tell by one rusted section:
This makes us suspect that perhaps three of the other houses in the row might have had similar decorations, removed when they rusted too much to repair.
This house, however, was clearly meant to show off its stones without additional adornment, except for the usual decorative utility-cable swags.
This article has been rewritten from its original version, which said that Father Pitt knew nothing about the church. After that, information trickled in.
This church was built in 1916 or so; the architect was Chauncey W. Hodgdon.1 The congregation informed the Presbytery that it would close the church in 2022, according to a Pittsburgh Presbytery newsletter [PDF], but the grounds are still mowed and the building is in good shape. Its most prominent feature is its tower with eye-catchingly prickly battlements.
Highland Avenue crosses Centre Avenue in East Liberty at an odd angle, creating an opportunity for two typically Pittsburghish odd-shaped buildings. First, the Wallace Building, shoved into a sharp corner and coming to a point at the intersection. The building was designed by George S. Orth in 1896.1
Old Pa Pitt hopes his readers will forgive a slightly imperfect composite of three photographs.
On the opposite side of Centre Avenue, the Stevenson Building fills in an oblique angle. Its prominent corner entrance makes the most of its location.
The original building was designed by William Ross Proctor and built in 1896. In 1927, the three bays at far left in the picture above were added under the supervision of O. M. Topp, who matched the style of the original so carefully that Father Pitt had not noticed the seam, and therefore was confused about the architects in an earlier version of this article.2
There is always room for more zinnias, which give us some of the most outrageously bright colors in the annual garden.
Old Pa Pitt was on his way out of West Park and already late for an appointment, but when he passed this house on the McKees Rocks side of the neighborhood, he had to stop and take pictures. It is not quite like any other house he has ever seen, and the original trim is well preserved.
Norwood is a traditionally Italian neighborhood in Stowe Township, originally a suburban development of modest detached houses connected to McKees Rocks and the Pittsburgh transit system by its own incline. The Norwood Incline closed in 1923, though a little shelter at the bottom station remains (see pictures of the Norwood Incline Shelter here). By that time, it was easy to get to the neighborhood by automobile or trolley.
The Norwood Honor Roll, above, no longer has its honor roll. Many neighborhoods had painted honor rolls, and it is possible that this one was painted. Or it is possible that a bronze plaque was stolen and sold to a scrap dealer, who, faithfully believing that people are fundamentally honest, never even suspected that the hunk of bronze with names all over it was stolen. Perhaps someone from the neighborhood can tell us the story. The painted dedication is an act of love from someone in the neighborhood.
Many of the buildings in what was the business district of Norwood are faced with Kittanning brick, but clad the rest of the way around with cheap ordinary brick.
Layers of history and cycles of prosperity and decline can be read in these two buildings. It looks as though a small business, owned by the residents of the house to the right, grew and prospered and faded and was finally replaced with apartments. The renovations to the building on the left suggest that there was probably plenty of money in the 1970s.
This tall and narrow building looks like a hotel in the Pittsburgh sense—a bar with a few rooms upstairs.
Note the patterned bricks, which remind us of similar decorations in West Park.
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.
