The painted signs identifying this as the Hotel Hall are still clearly legible. It’s a fairly large version of the typical Pittsburgh hotel: bar on the ground floor, rooms upstairs.
The most interesting feature of the hotel is its corner entrance with iron brackets.
Here is an exceptionally well-preserved country store, complete with oversized signboard.
The only excuse we need for publishing more pictures of Robin Hill is that we have more pictures of Robin Hill. It’s a beautiful Georgian house designed by Henry Gilchrist for Francis and Mary Nimick; it was left to the township by Mary to be a park for the residents. We’ll walk around the house counterclockwise.
More pictures of Robin Hill, and a composite of the garden face.
The northwest side of Broadway Avenue in Dormont is lined with small to medium-sized apartment buildings and duplexes. There’s a variety of styles, but we suspect more than one of them came from the pencil of Charles Geisler, who designed many apartment buildings in Dormont and Mount Lebanon, and who lived not far away in Beechview.
These two are exceptionally convenient to transit: their front doors open right across from the Stevenson stop on the Red Line.
The Maya produced some of the great architectural geniuses of the ancient world. In 1907, the architect Henry Hornbostel made a trip to Yucatan, where he was one of the first people to photograph the ancient Maya structures. In 1938, when he was director of parks for Allegheny County, Hornbostel produced this startling corbeled arch—a distinctive feature of Maya architecture—for the golf clubhouse in South Park.
Reliefs cleverly assembled from bricks show men and women having fun on the golf course. When old Pa Pitt visited, the men playing golf outnumbered women by at least ten to one, but in these reliefs the sexes come in equal numbers. In half the men swing and the women watch, and in the other half vice versa.
The interior decorations continue the abstract-Maya theme.
In his much-quoted talk on “American Style,” the eccentric genius and flimflam artist Titus de Bobula advised his fellow architects, “Go back to our own archeological excavations of Yucatan and Mexico,” where they would find inspiration for a truly American style. He earned some applause, but only a very few American architects followed that advice, producing a small treasury of “Mayan Revival” architecture. This may be the only unambiguous example in Pittsburgh. It took Hornbostel three decades from the time he visited Yucatan to the time he drew this Maya-inspired building, and it was at the end of his career. Perhaps the Maya style was too adventurous for Pittsburgh. But it gave us this one memorable clubhouse, and we can be thankful for that.
These frame houses were built in the 1880s and 1890s. They are detached houses—detached by just enough room for an average person to walk between them. As a group, they form a good document of the things ambitious salesmen could sell to middle-class homeowners in the twentieth century. Not a single one retains its original details: they have all had their siding replaced, and most have smaller windows than the originals. And, of course, several have sprouted aluminum awnings.
Father Pitt thinks this is the most picturesquely sited church in Allegheny County. On a day of rapidly changing lighting, he captured it in multiple moods.
The cemetery is stuffed with Revolutionary War veterans, and several of them will be appearing over at Pittsburgh Cemeteries.
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.
In the old days, many streets in Pittsburgh had trains running right down the street—even Liberty Avenue downtown. Railroad Street in the Strip is one of the few streets left with an active railroad. From this long-lens picture, we can see that the idea of “gauge” in tracklaying allows for a good bit of literal wiggle room.
By state law, streetcars in Pennsylvania were not allowed to use standard-gauge track, because legislators very sensibly worried that some backroom deal between the transit company and the railroad would suddenly have freight trains rolling down residential streets everywhere. Even now, the streetcars in Pittsburgh and Philadelphia run on “Pennsylvania broad gauge.”
James T. Steen designed this building, whose cornerstone was laid in 1892. It was a home for orphans and aged women, at a time when Pittsburgh’s industry was mass-producing widows and orphans. It is still a home for the aged under the name Canterbury Place.
The most striking feature of the building is its flamboyantly Baroque entrance. Old maps show us that it was once in the middle of a nearly symmetrical façade, but the right wing was demolished to make way for the modern high-rise section.
The local historians Joann Cantrell and James Wudarczyk have written a book on Pittsburgh’s Orphans and Orphanages that gathers firsthand memories of many of these institutions and shows us that, in spite of the inevitable institutionalism of the facilities, most of them were not the Dickensian nightmares we imagine when we hear the word “orphanage.”
