
A row of houses designed by Frederick Osterling, who lived just down the street. The Flemish style is striking. Some years ago they were restored and turned into condominium apartments as the Osterling Flats.



More pictures on a cloudy day.

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A row of houses designed by Frederick Osterling, who lived just down the street. The Flemish style is striking. Some years ago they were restored and turned into condominium apartments as the Osterling Flats.



More pictures on a cloudy day.


Edgemont Street is a one-block street in the southeastern extremity of Mount Washington, according to city planning maps, where Mount Washington, Allentown, and Beltzhoover all come together. It was part of the Grandview Plan of lots, built on the land that had belonged to various members of the Bailey family until the early 1900s. This was a particularly high-class street in the plan, and some of our prominent architects designed houses here, although we have so far positively identified only one. We begin with a close examination of a house that is typical of the first wave of houses on the street, which share certain distinctive features and were probably all designed with the same pencil.


The oval leaded glass in the reception hall would create an impression of prosperity and taste.

These dormers with arched window in the center recur on several of these houses; this one preserves its original shingles. Note also the curled finial at the peak of the roof behind the dormer.

Patterned brickwork marks where the chimney is inside the wall—a kind of decoration we might call a false chimney, or perhaps an expressed chimney.

This house has been divided into apartments and suffered multiple alterations, but the bay flanked by columns is unique and probably original.




One of our architects had fun with this flamboyantly Flemish roofline. The rest of the design is very good early-1900s arts-and-crafts, with most of the original details preserved for now, though they will not survive the next house-flipper.


A Craftsman bungalow, again with many original details preserved, though the original windows (probably 3-over-1) have been replaced.


Probably described by its builder as a Dutch colonial, with a gambrel roof that creates a spacious, almost full-sized third floor. The mismatched bays bother old Pa Pitt. They are not asymmetrical enough for the asymmetry to be a design feature; they look like a failed attempt at symmetry. But it’s still an attractive house and an efficient use of a small lot.

This triple house was designed by Henry Gilchrist, who was responsible for some famous mansions (Robin Hill is a notable example). It may originally have been built as a single residence.1

A later house than most of the others on the street, probably dating from the late 1920s or early 1930s. Siding has replaced what was probably half-timbered stucco, and windows have been replaced, but some of the original details, including an individual interpretation of the popular arch-with-rays, are well preserved, and the house is well taken care of.


The shingles in the gable of this house were replaced long ago with hexagonal asbestos-cement tiles. The word “asbestos” can cause panic, but the best advice from safety experts, even the ones who make their money in asbestos remediation, is to leave stable tiles like these in place, and they will harm no one.


Finally, at the other end of the street, another of those foursquare houses with an arched window in the dormer. This one preserves its original dormer window.

Urban legend says that these structures are chapels where the privileged can repent of their sins, but in fact they house the elevator mechanics and other rooftop necessities.

Perhaps the best way to describe the architect Frederick Sauer is to say that he was a high-functioning mad genius. He produced some very respectable church designs—St. Stephen Proto-Martyr, St. Stanislaus Kostka, and St. Mary of the Mount, to name three. Meanwhile, he went home every evening and started pulling rocks out of his back woods and piling them up into whimsical buildings with his own hands.
When he designed a private residence, Sauer sometimes pushed the limits of current styles. Here is a big stony house built from his design in 1893. It hits some of the fashionable Romanesque notes, but that immense crowstepped Flemish gable makes a big impression on the neighbors. (The high-pitched roof and big gables also give the house a roomy third floor.)




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.

Flemish Renaissance is not the most common style in Pittsburgh; this is certainly one of our most splendid examples of it. It is one of the surviving millionaires’ mansions on Highland Avenue. Father Pitt’s identification of it as the Elliott–Fownes house is based on two sources. The application for the neighborhood’s historic-district designation in the National Register of Historic Places mentions it as the home of “machine politician Robert Elliott”; a 1912 book has Henry C. Fownes, founder of the Oakmont Country Club, at this address.

