These houses were built in 1910, and nothing like their brisk modernity had been seen in Pittsburgh. Frederick Scheibler was our most adventurous modernist in those days, and these would have been approved by the Bauhaus ten or twenty years later.
The two houses on the upper end of the upper row have been kept in near-original condition, though they are in less than perfect shape.
In the rest of the row, different ownerships have sent the houses careening off in various directions.
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Like many architects of terraces like these, Scheibler repeated this design in multiple locations. Apparently both Scheibler and his clients considered the design a success. We’ll be seeing more of these little houses.
If Wilkinsburg were a trendier neighborhood, it would be profitable to restore this row of fine houses. They are not only distinguished works individually, but as a unit they also form a unique streetscape that was carefully thought out. They were all built at once, all designed by Louis A. Raisig,1 the Wilkinsburg architect who is now most famous for briefly taking on the young Frederick Scheibler as a partner before Raisig suddenly died in 1901. Raisig’s taste was much more traditional than Scheibler’s, but within the conventions of the time he was an artist.
The whole row is capped off by a corner turret at the upper end. That corner house is still in good shape, though the turret has been wrapped in fake siding.
The houses all fit together, but each one is different. We are sorry to say it is not likely that the row will remain intact for many more years; houses will probably start disappearing one by one.
The second floor of this house burned out; it will probably be the first of the row to go.
Philadelphia Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide, July 20, 1898, p. 466. “L. A. Raisig, First National Bank Building, has prepared plans for eight brick dwellings, to be erected for A. T. Stoner, on Centre street, Wilkinsburg. They will each contain ten rooms, will be well finished throughout, cabinet mantels, hot air heating, fine bathroom fixtures, and all modern conveniences The owner is A. T. Stoner.” A Hopkins plat map for 1903 shows the eight houses on the east side of Center between Wallace and North owned by “Stoner.” ↩︎
This beautiful and slightly fantastical house is tucked back in the woods in Squirrel Hill. Not long ago, a small group of Benno Janssen’s fans, among whom old Pa Pitt certainly counts himself, were given a tour of the house by the current residents, whose memorable hospitality made the occasion a delight. The details of the house are beautifully preserved, and with the owners’ permission we present a few of them here, beginning with one of the distinctive copper dormers.
Ascending the main stairway leads to a surprising revelation: all the doorways upstairs are Gothic arches, including the large closet at the head of the stairs.
The metalwork in the house is by Samuel Yellin, a Ukrainian artist in Philadelphia who ornamented many Janssen buildings.
Downstairs in the kitchen is the original range, which has had some spiffing up but needed no thorough reconstruction. It is still the main cooking apparatus for the house.
The rear of the house opens on a beautiful shaded slope that terminates abruptly in a forested cliff, because this is Pittsburgh. The current owners added a new dining room in the rear, carefully matched to the original house in its details.
You may have noticed that windows are few in this house: French doors take the place of most windows. They can be flung open for generous air circulation, and the louvered shutters still shut over the openings.
Like most Janssen designs, the house uses simple lines, exactly the right number of them, and relies on carefully chosen materials—like these irregular roof slates and copper dormers—to add satisfying texture.
South 11th street is a narrow street of little rowhouses, many dating from before the Civil War. Here are a few random views on the southern end of the street.
Some of the houses on the southeast side of Espy Avenue, which has perhaps Dormont’s best collection of domestic architecture, illuminated by the last golden rays of evening sun. We begin with the manse for the Dormont Presbyterian Church.
We have seen this double house before, which old Pa Pitt still thinks is a good example of how to fit higher-density housing into a pleasant residential neighborhood.
Probably no single street in Pittsburgh can claim so many distinguished dwellings as Beechwood Boulevard—mostly because it is a very long street that winds through three prosperous neighborhoods. Picking a block almost at random, old Pa Pitt strolled down the street and photographed every house on the sunny side. The majority of these houses share design quirks that make us think they were probably drawn by the same hand.
A pair of postwar doubles that illustrate the demographic changes over the history of Squirrel Hill. This block of Beechwood Boulevard mostly filled in with grand houses for the upper middle class; after the war, these much more modest dwellings were the ones that made sense. Today, a new house built here would probably equal the older grand houses in square footage, if not in quality of construction.
Five houses on North Franklin Street epitomize the paradox of Manchester: three are gorgeously restored, and two are condemned. This one, one of the condemned, had a little corner store on the ground floor.
We’ll find these incised decorations on all but one the houses. They were very popular in the 1870s and 1880s.
This house and the one next to it are nearly identical, except for differences in decoration. They were probably put up at the same time.
This house has a plaque dating it to 1881.
This house is probably the most recent of the lot; from the style, we would date it to the 1890s.
This house has been up for sale for a couple of years now, so the owner is probably motivated to sell. A quarter-million dollars should be enough to get that blue sticker off the front.
A few houses that show the wide variety of late-Victorian styles on this one street in central Shadyside.
Many of the houses in Shadyside were victims of the epidemic of porch amputations in the 1960s and 1970s. The one above, having lost its porch in the rage against porches of the late twentieth century, grew a new porch just a few years ago.
