A modernist building typical of the postwar apartment boom, including the tall stairwell light made of glass blocks—a Pittsburgh product much employed in the middle twentieth century. To old Pa Pitt’s ears, “Castletone” sounds like the name of a third-string record company, but the apartments are in a very convenient location, just down the street from the Mount Lebanon subway station on the Red Line.
A little apartment building—with four apartments, judging by the number of buzzers—in what old Pa Pitt calls the fairy-tale style, the mark of which is exaggeratedly picturesque features that look like illustrations from a children’s book.
The entrance is so similar to the entrance to the Sholten Arms in Carrick that we have to suspect the same hand drew both. Father Pitt’s guess is that the decorative gable was originally carried all the way to its logical peak, but was truncated when the overhang was rebuilt.
A row of four originally identical apartment buildings with Jacobean detailing.
This entrance seems to preserve its original details better than the others.
On the other hand, the colored tiles beside the door at this entrance are probably original, but have disappeared from the other three entrances.
Somehow the line for the Mount Lebanon Historic District was drawn just to the left side of this building, leaving it unhistorical, though taking in a much more pedestrian postwar apartment building across the street. Fortunately, historic district or no historic district, most of the details have been preserved, although the original windows would have added a layer of artistry that their simpler modern replacements lack.
The art glass in the stairwell has been preserved.
The front door is a work of art in itself. Enlarge the picture and admire the door pull.
A massive new apartment tower for Duquesne University students, and a big improvement in the Uptown cityscape (it replaced a parking lot). The architects were Indovina Associates, who designed the building in a subdued version of the currently popular patchwork-quilt style, with materials that harmonize well with the other buildings along the Uptown corridor.
An attractive and well-maintained building that would have been even more attractive when that overhang had green or red tiles. The style seems to hover somewhere between Renaissance and Arts and Crafts.
After the originally tiled overhang and its showy wooden brackets, the most eye-catching feature is the balconies with their bulging iron railings.
Father Pitt has not been able to find the architect of this fairy-tale palace, but it is in good shape. It was built for Frank Sholten, a local newsdealer who apparently wanted to expand into the landlording business, in 1928, and a Sun-Telly photographer captured the building still under construction.
The building has a near-twin in West Homestead, and some lucky day Father Pitt or one of his correspondents will find the name of the artist behind both of them. Meanwhile, we can appreciate the details, bathed in golden late-afternoon sun.
L. A. Raisig was listed as the architect of this well-preserved apartment building, which was built in 1900.1 And that sets old Pa Pitt’s mind speculating, because in the history of architecture, L. A. Raisig is famous, if you could call it that, for exactly one thing: for a brief period, just after Frederick Scheibler finished his apprenticeship with Alden & Harlow, he and Raisig were partners in the firm of Raisig & Scheibler.
According to Martin Aurand’s biography of Scheibler, “In fact, Raisig was a builder, not an architect, and it is hard to figure what he brought to the short-lived partnership other than an initial sense of security for a young architect.”2
However, Mr. Aurand may have been mistaken about Raisig. He was writing in the days before instant searches of the Philadelphia Real Estate Record and Builders’ Guide were possible, and quite a few listings turn up in which Raisig appears to be acting as architect.
But when did Scheibler join Raisig? Mr. Aurand found exactly two projects by them, one an unbuilt competition entry, and both from 1901. This apartment building was announced in August of 1900. And when Father Pitt looks at the front of it—
—he notices a very distinctive arrangement: two-storey classical columns holding up a broad third-floor balcony, with a smaller second-floor balcony over the entrance. It is not a common arrangement—in fact, old Pa Pitt can think of only one other instance of it at the moment, and it is this building in Park Place:
This apartment building was put up six years later, in 1906, and it was designed by Frederick Scheibler in his early classical phase.
What are we to make of this observation? Nothing definite yet; Father Pitt intends to find out more about L. A. Raisig, who disappears from the Record & Guide after the end of his partnership with Scheibler. But we may consider at least the possibility that the Ruskin Villa is a very early work of Frederick Scheibler in partnership with, or working for, L. A. Raisig. So old Pa Pitt leaves this article for now, but he will update it with better information when he knows more about Mr. Raisig and his partnership with young Frederick Scheibler.
Since it was built as public housing and opened in 1973, and since it bears a strong resemblance to his many other public-housing projects, Father Pitt does not hesitate to assign this building to Tasso Katselas, the king of public works in Pittsburgh.
An apartment fire fortunately was confined.
A typical small apartment building with storefronts that keeps many of its distinctive details, including the tiled overhang with exaggerated brackets. The windows have been replaced (although the art glass surrounding the stairwell windows is still there), and the storefront on the right has been heavily altered. But the quoins picked out in contrasting Kittanning brick still grab our attention as we walk by.
