George S. Orth was the architect of this school, one of the first large institutional buildings in the Oakland district. It was built in 1894, and it still serves its original institution.
The style is a sort of Flemish Renaissance filtered through Americanized Rundbogenstil. The horizontal stripes in the brickwork are such an instantly distinctive feature that they have been imitated in the school’s modern additions.
This was the first Passionist convent in the United States. The architect was Edmund B. Lang, whose firm would soon be known as Edward B. Lang & Brother, the Brother being Herman J., who would design some fine churches, including St. George’s in Allentown and St. Basil’s in Carrick.
The cornerstone was laid in 1910, and the Pittsburg Press covered the event in its “Religious and Charitable” section for September 2, 1910 (p. 9).
The cornerstone of the first Passionist convent in America will be laid in Carrick next Sunday afternoon at 4 o’clock. This convent, the mother house of the order in this country, is also the first cloistered convent to be built in the local diocese. The ceremony of laying the stone will be conducted by the Rev. Father Stanilaus Grennan, provincial of the order in this country. Bishop J. F. Regis Canevin, of the Pittsburg diocese, and a number of prominent members of the clergy and laity are expected to be present. The convent, which has been designed by Architect Edmund B. Lang, is severely plain in plan. It is being built of brick and stone. The American Passionist Sisterhood consists of the five nuns who came to this country from Italy, arriving in Pittsburg May 5. Since coming here the number has been augmented, two Pittsburg girls and one Baltimore girl being now in the novitiate, preparing themselves to join the order.
The chapel is a good example of the late Rundbogenstil as practiced by the Langs.
This building stands out among the skyscrapers that surround it like a strange relic of a lost civilization—the pre-skyscraper age. It was built in 1890, and the architect was young Frederick Osterling. He would soon master the Richardsonian Romanesque style and become one of our most accomplished practitioners of it, but this is pre-Richardsonian Romanesque. The weighty but graceful eyebrows over the arches, the complex and irregular rhythm of different sizes, and the surprising but flowing curves all remind us of Osterling’s old master Joseph Stillburg, whose Romanesque ideas went back to his native Austria.
This was a “hotel” in the old Pittsburgh sense, which is to say a neighborhood bar with rooms upstairs to qualify it for a “hotel” liquor license, which was much easier to get than a liquor license for a bar. The last time we saw the Rodler Hotel, about ten years ago, it appeared to be abandoned; but now it has new windows and is stabilized and occupied. The collapsing aluminum awnings have also been removed.
The corner entrance was filled in years ago to make a vestibule. Father Pitt prefers corner entrances left open, but he was not the owner of the building.
William J. Shaw was the architect of the most prominent commercial block in Sheraden, built in 1904 or 1905 for Sheraden’s own self-made developer, contractor, and civic luminary John Murphy.1 The details are mostly Renaissance; but the heavily eyebrowed arches and weighty and elaborate cornice make the term “Rundbogenstil” appropriate, giving us another chance to say the word “Rundbogenstil.”
This is a classic Pittsburgh “flatiron” building, with the classic Pittsburgh problem of three dimensions of irregularity in the lot. To the right the ground slopes precipitously down to the Sheraden station—a railroad station when it was built, a busway station now that the West Busway has duplicated the old Panhandle commuter route to the western suburbs.
We considered taking those utility cables out. After a couple of experiments, we realized it would require more hand-painting than we were willing to do.
A pilaster base on the sharp corner with oversized egg-and-dart ornamentation.
A Renaissance false balcony with egg-and-dart, dentils, and balusterasters in relief. Old Pa Pitt had to invent the term “balusteraster” to describe these false balusters, and now that he has invented it he will use it wherever appropriate. We can see that this building keeps a sharp eye on the complicated and confusing every-which-way intersection outside; possibly the most amusing videos are posted to some YouTube channel.
Inscription on the Hillsboro Street side.
A good example of the style old Pa Pitt thinks of as German Victorian, with heavily eyebrowed Rundbogenstil arches and prominent finials. It was probably built in the 1890s; it appears on plat maps in the early twentieth century (check the “1903–1906” box) as owned by L. Vilsack—almost certainly the Leopold Vilsack who was a prominent real-estate developer in the East End and one of the founders of Iron City Brewing, whose mausoleum in St. Mary’s Cemetery is in an exaggerated version of the same style. The windows have been filled in with new ones of the wrong size, and the ground floor has been altered (the storefront originally had a corner entrance), but most of the decorations that give the building its Victorian character have survived.
Correction: When this article was first published, old Pa Pitt had negligently typed “Homestead” instead of “Homewood” in the headline. Thanks to a correspondent for pointing out the error.
One of several “flatiron” buildings produced by the irregular street layout of Crafton. This one is odd angles all around.
The main entrance is on the sharp corner facing the intersection of Noble Avenue, Crafton Avenue, and Dinsmore Avenue (which is what we meant when we said Crafton had an irregular street layout).
A segmental pediment—that is, a pediment whose top is a segment of a circle, rather than the more usual triangle.
The side entrance would have led into the upstairs offices: a bank putting up a building like this would expect to make extra income from office rentals, and bank buildings were usually prestigious addresses.
The side of the building not meant to be seen is finished more cheaply.
For its size, McDonald has an unusually rich architectural heritage. The Cladden Building sits right at the center of the borough and almost defines downtown McDonald with its exuberant outburst of Victorian eclecticism. The acute angle of the building seems to pivot on the big round turret on the corner. Almost certainly the original entrance to the corner storefront was right on that corner, with the structure above held up by an egregiously fat Corinthian pillar.
Built in about 1893, this church was designed by James N. Campbell, who gave it his usual outsized corner tower with enormous open arches for the belfry. It was later known as Carnegie United Methodist Church, which left it a few years ago. But it appears to have been adopted as a community center by the prospering Attawheed Islamic Center next door in the old Presbyterian church, which the new owners obviously treasure and pour a lot of labor into, so we hope the future of the building is secure.
Here’s a house in an eclectic style made up of bits of other eclectic styles, but they all fit together well. The heavy arches picked out in darker brick remind us of the Rundbogenstil, a word we like to say as often as possible; but the irregular picturesque arrangement of parts takes inspiration from the style that, in defiance of history, was called Queen Anne.
The turret has a well-preserved witch’s cap and a rim of foliage scrollwork.
The oriel and the porch pediment are both decorated with grotesque foliage ornaments.
The house next door is a duplicate, but reversed.
Finally, a house that shares the same general shape, but is distinguished by its shingly top with curved surfaces and ornamental swags and foliage picked out in contrasting paint.
Like many Shadyside houses, this one has automobiles burrowing under the porch.
