A Short History of Gazebo Standards*

Posted on September 30, 2020 by admin

This afternoon we took a walk near the Al Larson Prairie Center for the Arts, which as far as I know is still dark. We thus passed through a bit of open land here in the northwest suburbs on the last day of September 2020. Another gazebo belonging to the Village of Schaumburg. Not too far from this one.
Its circumference is about one-quarter open, but got me to thinking: does it really count as a gazebo? Shouldn’t gazebos be almost all enclosed, with only space for an entrance?

A little research reveals two separate standards for gazebo enclosure. According to the International Gazebo Society (IGS), a gazebo has to be three-quarters enclosed. Académie international du belvédère (AIB), on the other hand, specifies seven-eights.

The divergence has a long history. The IGS, founded in London in 1787 but now headquartered in Scottsdale, Arizona, first specified gazebo standards the year after its founding. That definition traveled to other parts of the British Empire over the next decades, though it wasn’t formally adopted in the United States until the Fifth International Gazebo Conference in 1884, which was held in Washington D.C. at about the same time as the International Meridian Conference.

Meanwhile, in a fit of revolutionary zeal, the French took a different tack. In 1796, the Directorate promulgated gazebo standards for the First Republic that were the antecedents of the AIB’s standards. Bonaparte annulled those standards, but they were restored by Louis Philippe, who had a personal interest in modern gazebo theory. The AIB, headquartered in Paris, came into being later in the 19th century, and has governed gazebo standards in France and the Francophone world since then.

So most of the world follows either IGS or AIB. For a time in Maoist China, both standards were rejected as relics of European imperialism, a stance echoed today by the more woke members of the gazebo community. “Let a hundred gazebos bloom” was the Chinese slogan, beginning in about 1956, and structures built from then to 1976 are colloquially known as Maozebos.

They tended to be flimsy, and most have since fallen down or have been razed, though a good example is still standing in Shaoshan village, Hunan. The Gang of Four were thought to have even more radical ideas about gazebos, but with their defeat, China gradually returned to the IGS standard (interestingly, Taiwan adheres to the AIB standard, reportedly because Madame Chiang believed them more elegant). Indeed, China is now exporting gazebos more than any country, especially to Africa.

* Completely made up.

Godiva, Yildiz Holding & Giri Choco

Posted on September 29, 2020 by admin

The thing is, with many boxes of chocolates, you do know what you’re going to get, provided you read the box. So pay attention, Forrest.

We found a 10.9 oz. box of Godiva chocolates (27 pieces) at a warehouse store for a significant discount to that brand’s normally high prices, so we brought it home. Considering those high prices, this is a rare treat. Sure, Godiva’s really good chocolate, but so are other brands at less than premium prices.

We’ve been eating one piece each after dinner, six pieces all together so far. I’ve had the milk chocolate ganache bliss — hard to argue with a name like that — and dark chocolate coconut. Mm.

Godiva Chocolatier, incidentally, hasn’t really been Belgian in a long time. The Belgians sold it to the Campbell Soup Co., of all companies, almost 50 years ago. More recently, Campbell sold it to Yildiz Holding, a Turkish conglomerate. The brand has about 450 stores worldwide, including more than 100 in China.

While finding that out, I also discovered that Godiva has been taking out ads in recent years in Japan against the practice of giri choco, the popular custom of Japanese women giving chocolate to men, often coworkers, on February 14. A nice example of cross-cultural WTF, but you run into that kind of thing a fair amount in Japan.

As far as I can tell, Godiva doesn’t have a beef with the practice per se, it was merely trying to annoy a Japanese competitor, Black Thunder, which seems to be popular for giri choco. I don’t have any experience with that brand, though the name amuses me. Seems it came to the market after I lived there.

A Good Slogan Is Hard To Find

Posted on September 28, 2020 by admin

We had a pleasant warm weekend, but rain came overnight and cooled things off. Not cold, but not summertime warmth either. Touches of yellow in the trees are growing more visible by the day, but are still patchy when it comes to fall foliage.

Not a lot of political postcards are arriving this year, probably because so few of the Illinois races are competitive in 2020. I did get a card from our incumbent state rep not long ago, however. I see that she’s dropped her earlier slogan, Mom on a Mission.

What kind of mission? That was a little vague, but I guess to make Illinois a better place for the wee tykes. Anyway, I had to look around the card for the replacement slogan, so little was it emphasized: Commonsense Leadership for Change.

Distinctly underwhelming. But expected. After all, an honest slogan like, I’ve Gotten Used to the Income, Please Re-elect Me, isn’t going to fly.

Churches by Bus ’15

Posted on September 27, 2020 by admin

No Open House Chicago this year, as you’d expect; no Chicago Architecture Center bus tours or house walks or Doors Open Milwaukee either. For some time now, those events have often been part of fall for us, such as in 2013 or 2014 or 2017 or last year.

Five years ago we took a Chicago Architecture Foundation (as it was then) bus tour of six Chicagoland churches. The other day I took a look at the images from then.
Such as at the First United Methodist Church in Park Ridge, including docent Jack pointing out some feature.
A detail from the church’s stained glass.
Next was the Holy Resurrection Serbian Orthodox Cathedral. A bell hangs outside.
A plaque next to the bell tower explains, in English and Serbian, that the bell was cast in 1908 and formerly hung at a Serbian Orthodox church in Chicago. “[It] has been placed in this tower so that it may once again peal with joy at weddings and baptisms, announce the commencement of church services, and sadly toll at the passing of our parishioners,” the plaque says.

A detail of the bronze front doors.
A prelate I didn’t know. Now I do.
St. Joseph the Betrothed Ukrainian Catholic Church.
Near the main structure is an outdoor shrine to Our Lady of Hoshiv.“The icon in the grotto is a modern replica of the miraculous icon of Our Lady of Hoshiv, considered by many Ukrainians to be a special place of pilgrimage,” the church web site notes.

“The original icon was painted at the beginning of the 18th century, and during the Turkish and Tatar incursions in Ukraine was taken to Hoshiv for safety.

“In Hoshiv, the icon began to miraculously glow with a great halo, as witnessed by many locals and their priest. After the glow subsided, there were tears on Our Lady’s face.

“After this miracle, the people petitioned Metropolitan Lev Sheptytsky to transfer the icon to a ‘holy place’ and it was moved to the Basilian monastery of Yasna Hora (Bright Mountain) in Hoshiv. There the miraculous nature of this icon continued to reveal itself with many documented healings.

“The Grotto of Our Lady of Hoshiv that stands next to St. Joseph Church was built in 1961-1962, and was dedicated in May 1962 by Bishop Jaroslaw Gabro.”

Outside Our Lady of Hope in Rosemont is, was, a patch of elephant ears.
The church isn’t overwrought with stained glass, but there is some.
Much more stained glass can be found at St. Luke’s Lutheran Church in Park Ridge.

One church we visited but which I didn’t post about — I don’t remember why — was Mary, Seat of Wisdom, also in Park Ridge.

Interesting stained glass, not quite like I’ve seen elsewhere.

Mosaics. Or was it a painting that looks like a mosaic? I don’t remember.
Another detail I liked.
The Eye of Providence clearly belongs in a church, and maybe even on the dollar bill, but it would be interesting if it popped up randomly in public places. Just to give people something to think about.

Thursday Postscripts

Posted on September 24, 2020 by admin

Beverly Shores, Indiana, pop. 600 or so, is completely surrounded by Indiana Dunes NP. One way to get to the town, or the national park for that matter, is to take the South Shore Line from Chicago. If you do so, the place to get off is at Beverly Shores station.
Since its renovation in recent years, the station also includes an art galley. Closed when we got there.
When I’m pretty sure no train is nearby, it’s hard to resist a shot of the rails converging off toward the horizon. The rails go on forever in a silver trail to the setting sun.

Arthur Gerber designed the station in 1929. “Gerber was the staff architect for Samuel Insull, who then owned the line, [and] it is one of several examples of an ‘Insull Spanish’ style used on the rail line,” writes historic preservationist Susie Trexler.

Insull must have been fond of the style. “Say, Gerber, old man, whip up some more Spanish-style stations.”

After all, look at his mansion, which is generally classified as Mediterranean.
Better known as the Cuneo Mansion, for its second owner, but utility magnate Insull had it built. Above are shots I took when we visited. When was that? I couldn’t remember till I checked. Ten years ago.

The fellow interred in the Beyond the Vines columbarium at Bohemian National Cemetery is Benjamin George Maldonado, 34, who died unexpectedly of an undiscovered brain cyst, according to a column in the Tribune by John Kass.

“The priest gave a great eulogy of Ben,” Kass quoted Maldonado’s widow as saying. “His urn had a baseball on top. We all signed the baseball that went into the wall. There were sandwiches and sodas, and we had a picnic. He was so young. A headstone would have been so somber.”

The man who created the columbarium, whom Kass also quotes, was Dennis Mascari. He’s interred there now as well.

My brother Jay is skeptical that the parade pictures posted on Sunday were taken in September 1967, he told me by email. Two reasons: yellow foliage and people wearing a little more than they would on a very warm Texas September day.

As Jay points out, mid-September is far too early for changing leaves. But I color corrected the images. In the original, faded now for more than half a century, it’s hard to tell whether the leaves are green or yellow.

In the color corrected version, some of the leaves look green, some yellow. I don’t know whether that reflects the original color of the leaves, or the color-correction process itself. So I’d say the leaf colors are inconclusive.

The clothes are a more compelling argument. The kid on the top of the station wagon is indeed wearing more than any kid would in high 80s temps, and so is the woman on the flatbed, and maybe the men leaning against that vehicle, who seem to be wearing long-sleeve shirts or jackets. Of course, the members of the band would wear their uniforms no matter how hot it was. I remember some sweaty times in my own band uniform, about 10 years later.

“When is it then?” Jay writes. “I don’t know. I know that the Denton HS band was one of many high school bands that participated in the NTSU homecoming — which sources online say was November 11, 1967 — but: (1) I have no recollection of a parade, only of marching in formation on the playing field, and (2) if there was a parade, it seems odd that it’s heading away from NTSU rather than towards it, as it appears to be the case here. Of course, the fact that I don’t remember a parade isn’t dispositive, nor is the direction.”

Ah, well. Guess we’ll never know for sure. The lesson here is to write the date on the back of physical prints. But even that is an increasingly obsolete bit of advice.

Here’s Nathan Myrick, founder of La Crosse, Wisconsin, whose for-certain public domain image I obtained. Founding a town is more than most people get to do.

It occurs to me that I’ve now visited all of the 15 largest municipalities in Wisconsin, and maybe the 20 largest, though I don’t remember visiting New Berlin, but as a Milwaukee suburb, it’s likely that I passed through.

Is that important for some reason? No. But for a state in which I’ve never lived, I’ve been there a lot. As an old Chicago friend of mine once said, one of the amenities of living in the Chicago area is access to Wisconsin. I agree.

The Century of Progress Architectural District

Posted on September 23, 2020 by admin

Tucked away on a small road paralleling Kemil Beach on Lake Michigan is the Century of Progress Architectural District, which includes five houses originally built for the world’s fair in Chicago in 1933. The houses were moved by barge across the lake after the fair, and are now part of Indiana Dunes National Park.

More about that shortly. First, the view from Kemil Beach, which is nearly as far south as you can go and still be on the edge of Lake Michigan. The day we visited was clear and sunny, but not hot — more of a moderate September warmth.
If you look carefully at the horizon at that place, the enormous buildings of the Chicago skyline are visible, but look as insubstantial as grey chalk marks on a watercolor.
Not far from the houses is access to the beach itself.

Not many people were out and about, even though it’s part of a national park. Then again, the beach was windswept, bringing in large breakers.
That sounded like this.

Perched right over the shore is the pink Florida Tropical House, designed by Miami architect Robert Law Weed to promote Florida living to fairgoers. Come be Florida Men and Women, that is.

Also perched over the shore is the Wieboldt-Rostone House, which showcased a building material called Rostone (limestone, shale and alkali). Design by Indiana architect Walter Scholer.

On the hill above the road are the three other houses dating from the world’s fair. One, the Cypress Log Cabin, was meant to showcase that building material, and hugs the ground so closely that it was a little hard to see from the road.

Another hillside structure, the Armco-Ferro House, was “an ode to the virtues of porcelain enamel and steel — expressed in the form of a prefabricated home,” the sign at the bottom of the hill told me.Finally, the House of Tomorrow, which is currently wrapped for renovation. Design by Chicago architect George Frederick Keck.

All in all, an interesting little neighborhood. That’s a fitting term, since people actually live in the houses, except for the House of Tomorrow, and someone will live there when the work is done. Signs asked visitors to respect the privacy of the occupants. Tours of the interior are given only once a year, I’ve read, though I expect that isn’t going to happen this year.

In a remarkably imaginative move on the part of a government agency — the Park Service, which owns the properties — the houses are leased for 30 years at no charge, provided the lessees agree to restore and maintain the properties in that period.

Indiana Dunes National Park

Posted on September 22, 2020 by admin

Officially the park service entity occupying part of the Lake Michigan shore of Indiana, along with some adjacent lands, is Indiana Dunes National Park. Has been for about a year and a half now, for the usual reason: a Congressman from the region had the pull to promote it from its previous sub-park designation, national lakeshore, to national park.

Not much has changed besides the name. Even the signs have the old name. Signs cost money.

We’ve visited two or three times over the years, including one memorable time when Lilly’s stroller was difficult to push on sandy trails. That’s how long ago it was. Stroller issues have long been a non-issue for us, but even so the national lakeshore seldom suggested itself as a place to visit, maybe because the main way to get there — the highways running south of Lake Michigan — are often congested chokepoints.

We decided to go on September 18 for the day. The weather was flawless for walking around: clear and in the mid-60s. Got a later start than planned, so it was more of a visit for the afternoon. But a good one, focused on some short trails.

The trailhead of a small loop called Dune Ridge Trail.Mostly the trail wasn’t sand-dune sand, but even the more packed underfoot soil forming the trail was sandy.
There was a climb, but not too bad.
Leading to views of an expansive marsh.Later in the afternoon, we walked along the Great Marsh Trail.
A great marsh all right.
Still wildflower season in northern Indiana.
Indiana Dunes National Park Leisure to stroll among the short-time green?
We’re fortunate to have it.

Bohemian National Cemetery

Posted on September 21, 2020 by admin

Back in 2004, I met Bob the crematorium operator by chance, and he showed me part of the facility he ran. The interior of this building.That’s the crematorium and columbarium at Bohemian National Cemetery on the Northwest Side of Chicago, one of the resplendent cemeteries in the city. Bob wasn’t around when I returned for a visit on Sunday, September 13, and the building was closed.

As usual even at a beautiful cemetery, few other living people were around. But it was sunny and warm, and I had a good look.

Since the last time I visited, something unique (probably) in any cemetery has been added: Beyond the Vines.

“The 24-foot-long brick monument offering peace to the ashes of Cubs fans is called ‘Beyond the Vines.’ It sits in perpetual sunshine at Bohemian National Cemetery,” reported the Chicago Tribune in 2009, when the cemetery erected the structure.
The front was was in shadow when I saw it.
Still, the purpose of the columbarium is clear.
There are still spaces for anyone who cares for one. This marker for this fellow, name partly obscured, tells a sad story of early death but also the endless optimism of a Cubs fan.
Bohemian National, founded in the late 19th century by the Czech immigrant community in Chicago, has a wide selection of funerary art.

A pharmacist’s stone? Looks like a mortar and pestle.

Civil War and World War(s) veterans are honored with memorials, as you’d expect, but the place also spares a thought for veterans of the war with Spain, erected in 1926. The plaque is in English and Czech.
Deep in the cemetery is Anton Cermak’s mausoleum, but I didn’t see it. A memorial I did see is to the victims of the Eastland disaster.
“The site was chosen because the cemetery on Chicago’s Northwest Side holds the largest number of victims from the disaster — 134,” the Trib says, reporting on the dedication of the memorial in 2015, for the 100th anniversary of the disaster.

Hickory Street Parade, Denton, Texas, 1967 (Probably)

Posted on September 20, 2020 by admin

I have a photo book holding a scattering of images made when my family lived in Denton, Texas, which was from 1965 to ’68. There are perhaps two dozen pictures. Photos were only made on special occasions, such as my birthday or when family visited from out of town.

Three of the pictures are of the Denton High School band, of which my brother Jay was a member, marching down Hickory St., which is the street our house was on, in 1967. The edge of the photos says Aug 69, but that only means we didn’t get around to developing the film for almost two years.
That is not me sitting on a car in the first image. My mother must have taken the shots with our Instamatic 104, since I don’t think she would have been interested in fiddling with the more complicated cameras that my father left behind. Provided we had our Instamatic by then, which seems likely.

She stood on the sidewalk on Hickory St., probably near its intersection with Denton St.
At least, the angle of the third picture makes me think that’s where she stood. One the houses not far west of that point is still there, though deeper blue.

I must have watched the parade, but I have no memory of it. At the time I was six, and had just started first grade at Sam Houston Elementary School in Denton. I walked to school, so it wasn’t far away. There’s a school of that name still in the Denton ISD, but it’s far from where we lived and has a late 20th century look to it.

Thinking about it now, I suspect the school I went to was already old when I went there — maybe built in the ’20s to update whatever rudimentary facilities the town had before that. I expect the building I knew is long gone.

Also: here’s the house where we lived. The house is a different color now, but the enormous tree is still in the front yard! It seemed so vast to my boyhood self. Then again, it is pretty big. An old maple that produced huge leaves. Or was it an oak that produced huge acorns? Both kinds of trees were in the neighborhood and I would collect their scatterings.

I digress. Why was there a parade on that day in Denton, Texas? One possibility is that it was part of the September 13 publicity celebration for the regional premiere of Bonnie and Clyde, which was at a movie theater near the courthouse, only a few blocks to the east of where we lived. Parts of the movie were filmed in North Texas, near Denton, in places that could easily pass for 30 years earlier. The University of North Texas published an article a few years ago about the filming and the regional premiere.

Some of the stars of the movie rode in a small motorcade down Hickory to the courthouse square, and naturally the high school band had to be part of it. If my mother took any pictures of the movie stars, they’ve been lost. But I seriously doubt she did. Taking pictures of her son’s band is one thing, but actors in a movie (I suspect) she had no interest in seeing? Naah.

FAST Fiberglass

Posted on September 17, 2020 by admin

Also not far out of Sparta, Wisconsin, is property belonging to FAST Fiberglass, until recently known as FAST Corp., which specializes in fabricating fiberglass statues.

Or, as its web site puts it [all sic]: “The next time you see a life size elephant at a gas station, 8 foot high cheese mouse at the store, 6 foot frog water slide, 20 foot high flamingo, or 3-story eyeball you can bet the piece originated in Sparta Wisconsin at FAST Fiberglass.”

This concerns me how? Turns out that the property is also an informal tourist destination. As a fairly informal tourist, the prospect of visiting the place intrigued me. Not the manufacturing facilities themselves, but rather the large patch of land where the company stashes the molds it uses to make statues.
A large sign welcomes visitors, but warns them as well.
We heeded those warnings and didn’t climb the molds or disturb bee or wasp colonies. We merely looked around the weedy dumping ground, and were well rewarded by the whimsy of it all.Look! A Big Boy. I explained to Ann what that was.
More oddities.

A muffler man? Maybe.
Old Scratch.
There was an old woman who lived in a shoe/She had so many children, she didn’t know what to do?
Also, the field sported a large number of animal casts.