Old maps show this as the Lohr Building, owned by A. C. Lohr. Lohr was a patent-medicine peddler who promoted himself as “the Plant Juice man,” selling a supposedly herbal concoction called Plant Juice that would treat “all forms of stomach, liver and kidney trouble and blood disorders,” according to identical articles planted in the Gazette Times and the Press for July 13, 1914. Pittsburgh is most famous for glass, iron, and steel, but in the golden age of patent medicines it was one of the most important centers of medical hooey in the country, and fortunes were made here in that trade.
The storefront retains its corner entrance, but with the step up from South Avenue blocked by a planter.
A church built for Reformed Presbyterians, a small Pittsburgh-based (now actually Irwin-based) denomination with a long history. The cornerstone was laid in 1892, and the building was dedicated in 1893. It is now kept up beautifully as the El-BethEl Temple. Old Pa Pitt spent some time looking for the architect, but the church was built just after a scandal enveloped its minister, and that was the thing that occupied the newspapers. Reformed Presbyterians believed that the government of the United States was illegitimate because freedom of religion was one of its principles, whereas a legitimate government must be explicitly Christian. The Wilkinsburg minister refused to accept that all people who voted in elections or held any government office must be excommunicated, and the little R. P. teapot had a big typhoon. Because the tempest may be amusing to watch from afar, we reprint an article from the Press, June 13, 1891, p. 4.
It May Be Ultra-Reformed.
The action of the congregation of the Reformed Presbyterian church in the East End in re-electing Rev. O. B. Milligan as their pastor makes it difficult to understand what effect the suspension of the seven dissenting ministers by the Reformed Presbyterian synod will have. Mr. Milligan has been declared by the synod to be no longer a Reformed Presbyterian minister. In the face of that, his Reformed Presbyterian congregation—that has always held a good opinion of him, and does still—has declared that he shall continue to be the pastor. This church is in the peculiar position of being independent of the main body so far ss the choice of a pastor is concerned. It is in the hands of a corporation that owns the property—and in a general way the congregation. They say they want Mr. Milligan for their pastor, and Mr. Milligan will remain.
The synod has a difficult task on its hands. It cannot allow a suspended minister to keep his position in the Reformed Presbyterian church, and yet there seems no way of excluding Mr. Milligan. Obviously the only thing for the synod will be to refuse to recognize this particular congregation. But if the congregation insists upon calling itself Reformed Presbyterian, as it probably will, where will the synod be then? There seems a probability of two branches of the Reformed Presbyterian church, with the awful likelihood of Mr. Milligan calling theirs the Reformed Reformed Presbyterian church.
The Reformed Presbyterian Church of North America has softened its principles a little since then, but it remains dedicated to the idea of Christ as the absolute king in government as well as church matters. Today its nationwide membership is about equivalent to the membership of two fairly large Catholic parishes.
This building replaced a much smaller building from 1845, which was demolished to make way for it. When it was dedicated on July 2, 1893 (by which time the Rev. R. C. Wylie was pastor, and the threatened ultra-reform had been averted), the Post described it as an “innovation in church architecture,” though the description makes it sound like another instance of the popular Akron Plan.1
Yesterday was an eventful day in the history of the Reformed Presbyterian church of Wilkinsburg. The occasion was the dedicatory services of their new house of worship, which has only been recently completed at a cost of over $22,000, including the lot. The new building stands on the corner of South avenue and Center street, and both the inside and outside of the structure are innovations in church architecture. The inside arrangement is very convenient, for both the church and Sabbath school departments are on the same floor and can be thrown into one large apartment by simply raising portieres which separate them.
The church proper is built on the plan of an auditorium and the seats are built in a circular fashion similar to an opera house. The floor slants toward the pulpit and the acoustics are perfect. From the ceiling, which is finished in hard wood, hang two beautiful chandeliers, which contain 127 incandescent lights. When these are all lighted the church is transformed into a fairy palace and the effect is wonderful. A fine brussels carpet covers the floor and the other furnishings are in keeping with the structure.
This is the sort of arrangement Pittsburgh’s distinguished Catholic architect Edward Weber would later describe as “the frightful auditorium plan.” But Weber’s Catholic principles were based on the idea of liturgical worship. When preaching is the main attraction (and Reformed Presbyterians refused all music except the Psalms), a theatrical arrangement makes sense: the church is a lecture hall, not a place for processions and ceremonies.
This church, kept in good shape as the Pittsburgh Urban Christian School, has a complicated architectural history, and old Pa Pitt will not attempt to sort it all out. The cornerstone bears a date of 1915:
We have seen the name O. M. Topp associated with the church, but a 1931 biography of Arthur N. Steinmark lists this church among his accomplishments.1 In 1915 Steinmark was working for MacClure & Spahr, which makes it seem unlikely that he designed the 1915 portion. But the church is a complex of attached buildings, and Steinmark might have been responsible for some of it.
On December 15, 1929, “Calvary had a rededication service at the completion of a $35,000 building expansion and improvement program which added the tower, the Rose Window, the balcony and included the renovation of the Chancel.”
That $35,000 project is probably Steinmark’s work. Father Pitt believes, however, that only the top of the tower was part of the Steinmark project, because an old picture on that same page shows the rest of the tower as Pittsburgh black stone like the rest of the church, but the top as pristine white.
The top of the tower is probably a replacement for a doomed spire. (Update: See the update above. It is possible that a spire was planned and never built, as often happened with church towers.)
This smaller section appears to be the older sanctuary; old maps suggest that it is probably the 1900 church designed by Wilkinsburg’s own L. A. Raisig,2 given a new stone front to match the main building.
Record & Guide, August 8, 1900, p. 511. “At Wilkinsburg, Station D, Pittsburg, a $25,000 brick church will be erected by the Calvary Lutheran Society. L. A. Riasig, Penn and Wood streets, architects. Rev. J. Bradley Markward, pastor.” ↩︎
J. H. Giesy was the architect of this little utility-company palace, built in 1916.1
The relief in the shield is so shallow that it has eroded to near invisibility. It looks to old Pa Pitt like an allegorical figure pouring out water, but he is happy to be corrected by someone with a better eye or more accurate information.
American Contractor, October 16, 1915, p. 58. “Office Bldg.: 2 sty. & bas. 50×100. $20M. Wilkinsburg, Pa. Archt. J. H. Giesey, Mellon Bank bldg., Pittsburgh. Owner Penn Water Co., Oliver bldg., Wilkinsburg. Bids in; will soon let contr. Brk.” ↩︎
Later known as the Mulberry Presbyterian Church. O. M. Topp and Charles W. Hutchison, “țhe well-known Pittsburg architect,” were the architects of this church, built in 1911.1
In spite of his self-declared notability, Charles W. Hutchison has not left much of a visible architectural legacy: after some searching, old Pa Pitt found only two projects definitely attributable to him, of which this is one. It was probably his own church: he lived in Wilkinsburg. His moment of greatest fame came the year after this church was built, when his honeymoon trip was interrupted by the wreck of the Titanic: he and his bride were passengers on the Carpathia, the ship that picked up Titanic survivors. He sold his story, with a well-made diagram of the scene of the rescue, to the Press, which put him on the front page as “the well-known Pittsburg architect.”
Olaf M. Topp, on the other hand, was a very successful architect with a long career ahead of him and much experience behind him. Half the prewar Lutheran churches in the Pittsburgh area were designed by Topp, in addition to a few for other denominations; and in secular buildings his greatest work was the still-lamented Jenkins Arcade.
A while ago this church was taken over by an organization with ambitious plans to turn it into a Center for Civic Arts. The plans seem to have run hard up against economic reality, however, and when old Pa Pitt visited recently the building was up for sale again.
“Old Town of Aspect All Modern,” Pittsburg Press, July 14, 1907. “One of the most important additions to the structural beauty of the place will be the new South Avenue Methodist Episcopal Church, which is to replace the old burned down last February. It is to cost $125,000 and will be one of the finest church buildings in the community. The construction is under the charge of Architects Milligan & Miller, who designed the plans.” ↩︎
Wilkinsburg’s own Milligan & Miller designed this rambling Gothic church, which is still in use by its original congregation, now South Avenue United Methodist. “One of the most important additions to the structural beauty of the place,” said a 1907 Pittsburg Press feature on Wilkinsburg,1 “will be the new South Avenue Methodist Episcopal Church, which is to replace the old burned down last February. It is to cost $125,000 and will be one of the finest church buildings in the community. The construction is under the charge of Architects Milligan & Miller, who designed the plans.”
Built in 1916, the Wilkinsburg Masonic Temple was designed by Alden & Harlow. Mr. Alden had already been dead for eight years, but his famous name was kept at the head of the firm; Howard K. Jones, whose name was not added to the firm (as “Alden, Harlow & Jones”) until 1927, was doing much of the design work by 1916, and may have had a large hand in this building.
It’s a curious structure, two-thirds basement. Often lodge halls were put on upper floors to provide rentable storefronts on the ground floor that would pay for the building, but that is obviously not the case here. Perhaps the reason may be sought in pure symbolism. Whatever goes on in this building (which the uninitiated are not permitted to know) is so lofty that even the members must ascend through two and a half levels of basement before they can reach the main event.
A full-page photograph in the Architectural Record from 1925 shows us that the front of the building has not changed in any noticeable way, except for the new doors and windows:
Unlike some other landmark buildings in Wilkinsburg, this one has been preserved by new occupants, the Ahmadiyya Muslim Community Mosque, who clearly love the building and keep it in sparkling condition. Even the inscription and the cartouche have been attractively covered, not obliterated, by the Muslim community.
This fine corner-tower church, whose cornerstone was laid in 1911, was designed by O. M. Topp and Charles M. Hutchison.1 The plan was probably made in 1906, when a small chapel was put up with the intention of building the larger church when there was enough money. This is one of the very rare cases, incidentally, where the Pittsburgh History and Landmarks Foundation is wrong. The PHLF plaque has the church designed by F. Hoffman & Co.; but F. Hoffman & Co., was a Wilkinsburg contractor (probably the one that got the contract for the building), not an architectural firm.
The congregation is gone, but some attempt is being made to restore the building as a Center for Civic Arts. Old Pa Pitt wishes the Center good fortune, because this fine building deserves to have a future, and Wilkinsburg deserves art. As we can see from this old postcard from the Presbyterian Historical Society collection, the building has hardly been altered at all:
The congregation prospered, and in 1928 a large educational wing was built—now abandoned and in bad shape. The architect was Lawrence Wolfe, with O. M. Topp—by then one of the grand old men of Pittsburgh architecture—listed as “associate architect.”2
J. H. Giesey was the architect of this rich-looking palace for a utility company.1 It was built in 1916, and it has been restored very neatly, although if old Pa Pitt applied his highest standards to the restoration, he would have to admit to not liking either the filled-in windows or the new front door very much.
Source: American Contractor, October 16, 1915, p. 58. “Office Bldg.: 2 sty. & bas. 50×100. $20M. Wilkinsburg, Pa. Archt. J. H. Giesey, Mellon Bank bldg., Pittsburgh. Owner Penn Water Co., Oliver bldg., Wilkinsburg. Bids in; will soon let contr. Brk.” ↩︎
