Tag Archives: architecture

Two Downtown Chicago Churches

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Yesterday evening at about 8:15 I was out walking the dog — sometimes it’s an after-dark activity now that there’s more darkness — and I spotted a pale yellow slender crescent moon hanging just over the western horizon. Low enough to appear luminously large. Quite a sight.

Just after the new moon signifying Rosh Hashanah, I realized. I couldn’t remember the year’s number, so I looked that up: 5779.

While downtown last week, on the way back to Union Station to return home, I ducked briefly into two churches. I’d been in them before, but they’re always good for a look.
One was St. Peter’s in the Loop, a Catholic church on W. Madison St.
The enormous crucifix is by Latvian artist Arvid Strauss. The building dates from 1953. According to Heavenly City: The Architectural Tradition of Catholic Chicago by Denis McNamara, “the stepped-back roof profile of the exterior recalls the Art Deco skyscapers [architects Vitzthum and Burns] had designed and gave the church a modern sensibility, but the facade retained the sign value of churchliness with Gothic decorative elements, pink Georgia marble, and [the] monumental exterior cruxifix…”

The interior. Sacred deco, you might call it.
The building is more just the sanctuary. Tucked away in the structure, hidden from casual visitors like me, are an auditorium, library, offices, meeting rooms and friary completed with living quarters, kitchen and a chapel for the Franciscans who run the place.

Not far away is the First United Methodist Church at the Chicago Temple, an unusual arrangement for a church. It’s at the base and top floors of a 568-foot skyscraper on W. Washington St. I didn’t take any exteriors, but this is what it looks like. A Holabird & Roche design from the 1920s.

It features another handsome interior.
With fine stained glass.

I had no time to tour the Sky Chapel again — I visited ca. 2002 — which is at top of the building and open every day at 2 p.m. It’s a sacred space unlike any other I know.

Views From 151 N. Franklin St.

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Last week I attended an event on the top floor of 151 N. Franklin St., a new office building in downtown Chicago. I had a few moments to admire the excellent views.

Looking slightly to east-northeast, roughly. In a gap far to the right is a slice of Lake Michigan.

To the south-southwest, roughly. The tower formerly known as Sears rises above all, including annoying reflections.

Straight north.

The building with the four roof features — maybe those count as cupolas — is 225 W. Wacker Dr., a 30-story late ’80s development designed by Kohn Pedersen Fox. A vertical shot of that building.
Behind it, or rather to the north, across the Chicago River, is the much more horizontal Merchandise Mart.

More about the 35-story 151 N. Franklin is here, including a mention of the views from the top. Here’s the thing that struck me: the building was just completed. That means these are spanking-new views of Chicago.

More Riverside

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Hanging in the metra station in Riverside, Illinois, is a reproduction of the plan of the town as originally envisioned in the late 1860s, except the spot that says “land not belonging to the company” (that is, the Riverside Improvement Co.) is part of the town in our time.

The streets and the green spaces are still pretty much still the way they were originally laid out. Note the bend in the Des Plaines River that forms a tongue of land, marked by me by a red circle. Also, the red star is roughly where the train station, tower, library, etc. are located.

With a Riverside Museum walking tour pamphlet in hand, we decided to take a walk in the tongue of land after seeing the sights near the train station. The air was a little steamy, but with the sun hiding behind clouds, we put up with it.

One of the streets along the river is Bloomingbank Road. The river, hidden by foliage, is to the right in this image.

The road is populated mostly by large vintage houses. Such as the Clarence Cross Cottage, 1887 Shingle & Queen Anne.

The Thomas W. Blayney Residence, 1869 Italianate.

The John C. Smith House, 1907 American Four Square. That’s a nice porch.

Most people probably come this way for the Frank Lloyd Wright works, which are a cluster of residences on 10 acres near the tip of the tongue. Originally they were built as a single residence for the Coonley family.

Per Wiki: “Avery Coonley, a Chicago industrialist and his wife, Queene Ferry of the Detroit-based Ferry Seed Company, were both heirs to industrial fortunes and had an unlimited budget to commission a new residence.” Just the kind of clients FLW liked, no doubt.

Formerly the stables and coach house.

Formerly the gardener’s residence.

Formerly the main house.

Not the best view of the house. That would be the other side, but there’s no access to ordinary gawkers since the house is privately owned. That source says the house is up for sale, listed this spring for $1.6 million. Might be a reasonable price for a FLW work, if you remember it’s an artwork more than a residence, and don’t mind the invisible hole somewhere in the place where your money seems to go.

Riverside

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I’ve known about Riverside, Illinois, for years, and used to pass through it every weekday in the late ’90s and early ’00s when I took the Burlington Northern Santa Fe Metra line to work downtown. One thing I could see from the train window was the fine brick station.

As well as the town’s former water tower, not far from the station. The building underneath the tower is now the town’s park and recreation department.
Riverside is a special place beyond what you can see from the train. But I never got around to a longer visit than a train stop, so on Saturday morning, inspired by the fact that some of its buildings were part of Doors Open Illinois — not to be confused with Open House Chicago, or Doors Open Milwaukee — we drove to Riverside for a look around.

“Starting [in 1869] with a blank canvas of 1,600 acres of purchased farmland, the Riverside Improvement Company arranged for a complete utility infrastructure — water, sewer, and gas for lighting,” WTTW says. “They called their brand-new community ‘Riverside’ for the Des Plaines River that flows through the site.

“To design and plan the village, they hired Frederick Law Olmsted and his partner Calvert Vaux, whose Central Park success a decade before had made them superstars of design.

“Olmsted’s signature approach was to create a picturesque, landscaped topography. Inspired by the winding Des Plaines River, he eschewed a standard city grid, instead creating a series of curvilinear streets that wound across each other — a pattern that resulted in dozens of tiny triangular mini-parks.”

These days, Riverside is still a prosperous suburb, as it was intended to be from day one. We parked near the station and first got a better look at the station’s handsome interior.

As well as a closer look at the former water tower.
Unfortunately, it isn’t open to the public for a climb. Too bad. Even local vistas are usually worth the effort. A view of Riverside from that perch would probably be a fine thing.

A nearby former pumping station is now a small museum devoted to Riverside. Mostly it sports photographs on the wall of earlier times in the town.
The three volunteers inside, local ladies all, seemed really glad to see us. I expect that word never really got out about Open Door Illinois, and the little museum doesn’t get that many visitors anyway.

They told us a bit about the town and the structures we’d been looking at. For example: parking is usually possible near the train station, even on weekdays, which is unusual among suburban Metra stations. Most commuters walk or ride bicycles to the station, one of the volunteers said. Probably just as Olmstead wanted it.

More from WTTW about Riverside: “In 1871, when the Great Fire decimated Chicago and before Olmsted’s plan was fully executed, the developers went bankrupt. But before long, Riverside picked up momentum again, with community resident and notable architect William LeBaron Jenney stepping in to complete the town plan, and other notable architects of the day such as Frank Lloyd Wright and Louis Sullivan designing homes.”

One of the aforementioned mini-parks is next to the train station: Guthrie Park.
Named after a local luminary, not the folk singer. There are an assortment of commemorative plaques attached to rocks ringing the flag pole in Guthrie Park. Some of them honor men, presumably locals, who were killed in the Great War.

Rev. Hedley Heber Cooper, d. May 26, 1918. War was dangerous for chaplains, too.

Private Albert Edward Moore, d. July 19, 1918.

There’s also a plaque for a soldier who died not long after the Armistice, but here at home. A little late for the flu, but still possible. Accident, maybe.

Sgt. James P. Quinn, d. February 4, 1919, Camp Logan.

Near Guthrie Park is the Riverside Public Library, completed in 1931, which looks like a church. The architect is given as Connor & O’Connor, or simply “Mr. Connor” in this timeline.
On the inside it looks even more like a church. A certain kind of church, anyway.

The library is the only one I’ve ever seen with an Olmsted collection.

The collection takes up a number of shelves in its own special niche.

The King William District in July

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Just back from eight days in San Antonio. Most of the time I visited with family or worked, since my kind of work is mobile. Also, temps in the high 90s and sometimes over 100 degrees F. discouraged me from too much wandering around during the day.

Even so, last Sunday toward the late afternoon I drove down to the King William District, which is leafy this time of year and so not quite unbearably hot, and took a few short walks.

“The district encompasses land that was once irrigated farm land belonging to the Mission San Antonio de Valero, commonly known as the Alamo,” the City of San Antonio says. “When the mission was secularized in 1793, the lands were divided among the resident Indian families from the mission or sold at public auction. In the 1860s the area was subdivided into lots and laid out with the present streets.

“In the mid-nineteenth century… a great many Germans, who had immigrated to Texas in the 1840s, began to settle in this area… The area developed into an idyllic neighborhood of large, impressive houses designed in the Greek Revival, Victorian, and Italianate styles.

“The main street into the neighborhood was given the name King William in honor of King Wilhelm I, King of Prussia in the 1870s. During World War I, when America was at war with Germany, the name was changed to Pershing Avenue. A few years after the war ended the King William name was restored.”

These days there’s a Pershing Ave. in San Antonio, but it’s further north, fittingly not far from Fort Sam Houston. By the mid-20th century, the King William District was run down. By the late 20th century, restoration was under way.

One of my short walks took me along King William St., which is an important street in the district, but hardly the only one. The array of houses made me think of the East End Historic District in Galveston. In King William, there are large and historic houses such as the Villa Finale.
The Steves Homested. One of these days, I’ll take the tour.Edward Steves was a successful businessman in lumber in San Antonio in the 19th century, and Steves & Sons, which makes doors, is still around. I went to high school with a girl who was descended from Steves on her mother’s side.

There are plenty of other large and not-so-large houses on the street, most of which are worth a look.
That last one is the Alfred Giles House. One the architect of that name designed for himself. He’s thought to have done the Steves Homestead, and he certainly designed a lot of buildings in Texas, including some county courthouses (such for Goliad County and Presidio County) and even some in Monterrey, Mexico.

The Old Illinois State Capitol, Springfield

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Before we revisited the Lincoln Museum in Springfield, we revisited the Old State Capitol. At least I revisited it. I’m not sure whether I’d ever taken Ann, or whether her friend had ever been there at any point. Never mind, it was worth a look.
In the background from that vantage is the larger dome of the modern capitol, on which construction started in 1868. Didn’t visit there this time around.

More formally, the old capitol is the Old State Capitol State Historic Site, a Greek Revival structure that served as the state house from 1839 to 1876, so it was the one Lincoln would have hung around. In fact, as a state legislator, Lincoln was among the legislators who facilitated the movement of the capital from Vandalia, which is further south.

“In the Legislature at Vandalia in the session of 1836-7, Sangamon county was represented by two senators and seven members of the lower house,” says ‘The Story of the Sangamon County Court House,’ a 1901 monograph by H.D. Giger. “They were a singular body of men, all tall and angular and their combined height was exactly 54 feet, they are famous in Illinois history as the ‘Long Nine.’

“The capitol of the State at this time was at Vandalia, having been removed there from Kaskaskia, and as the tide of emigration was moving northward it was conceded that the capitol must be nearer the center of population; although Vandalia and Southern Illinois fought hard against it.

“From the beginning of the session the Long Nine set to work log rolling. They asked for no public improvements; they wanted no railroads, canals, no plank roads, but would help out any member that did want them for his district, if he would vote to remove the capital to Springfield.

“There were many applicants, and on the first ballot Springfield had but 35 out of 121 votes… Poor old Peoria, as usual, brought up the rear and Springfield captured the prize on the fourth ballot.”

Abraham Lincoln Online picks up the story: “The capitol building, designed by architect John Rague, was the third to appear on the square, replacing two previous courthouses.” (Rague also did the old Iowa capitol.)

“The [state] outgrew the building during Lincoln’s presidency, and work on a new statehouse began soon after his death. The present building was dismantled in 1966 and rebuilt, which allowed the inclusion of an underground public parking lot and space for offices. The original stone exterior was stored and rebuilt, but the interior was completely reconstructed.”

It’s a well-done reconstruction.

The exhibits include a statue of the Little Giant.
While we were there, a group of historic re-enactors in 19th-century costumes happened to be in the recreated House chamber.
They gave a lively 20-minute or so performance, recalling the lives of black Illinois citizens of the Civil War era.

The Robert Allerton Park & Retreat Center

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One of the main rewards of looking at maps is finding places you didn’t know about, interesting places that sometimes become destinations. Not too long ago, I was scanning a map of the area near Champaign, and came across the Robert Allerton Park & Retreat Center. Curious, I looked it up.

Soon, I decided that besides Arthur and Arcola, our other main east-central Illinois destination on Saturday should be Allerton, which covers more than 1,500 acres in rural Piatt County, not far from Monticello, Illinois.

Robert Allerton (1873–1964), whose father was one of the founders of the Chicago Stock Yards, and who thus inherited a fortune, set about building an English-style manor house around 1900 on land along the upper Sangamon River. A handsome house it is.

These days, the property belongs to the University of Illinois. Allerton, presumably tired of paying the taxes on it, donated it to the school in 1946. The manor house, besides being rented for events, is a conference center and not open for tours.

Too bad. But the grounds and gardens are extensive, and punctuated by sculpture from the time of Allerton. They are open, and at no charge. More about that tomorrow.

The Oculus

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Not everybody likes the Oculus, which is the unofficial name of World Trade Center Transportation Hub in Lower Manhattan, opened in 2016 to replace the facilities destroyed in the 2001 attack. The last time I was in town, it was still under construction, but now it’s done.

A good deal of the criticism is about how much it cost, and it certainly was expensive ($4.4 billion, I’ve read). As a non-New Yorker, I can easily be sanguine about that. Besides, with a GDP of $1.3 trillion or so annually, which is in the same league as Spain or South Korea, I suspect metro New York can afford a few grand public works. But it’s also short-term thinking. If the structure lasts even 100 years, who’s going to care about cost overruns?

Then there are the visceral reactions to Santiago Calatrava’s design. Some of these can be found at TripAdvisor, in the one- or two-star comments. A selection follows, all sic.

“White sterile, soulless, limited shopping, resembling a rotting beached whale. This place does not look as if it belongs in NY. More suited to a Middle Eastern theme park.”

“Cavernous: much better to look at from the outside; although, it really just looks like some animal’s ribcage.”

“Although many reviews praise the style of architecture as ‘impressive’, the underlining truth about this architecture is that it was designed in a style similar to that of Soviet Constructivism in order to purposefully induce feelings of tension, intimidation, a global or “one-world” identity rather than a traditional or local one.”

That last one’s an odd notion. Soviet was about the last thing I thought of when inside the Oculus.

That’s the view from one of the balconies on one side of the main hall. I got the sense of a large, vaulting open space — like a major train terminal of old, but looking nothing like one. I have a few quibbles, though. The space could use more places to sit, for instance.

Turning the camera to the vertical from the same perch.

I’d walked to the Oculus from the Downtown restaurant where Geof and his wife Karen and I had had dinner. They wanted to show me the Oculus.

This is Geof Huth. Known him for over 35 years now.

A look at the ceiling from down on the main floor.

I’m not going to spend time intellectualizing my experience at the Oculus. Enough to say that I liked it. I was impressed. It’s a wow. It isn’t like anything else I’ve seen. It may or may not be worth the money, but it is worth spending a few minutes standing in the space and looking up and all around.

Trinity Church Wall Street, Alexander & Eliza Hamilton, and Norges Bank Investment Management

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On Broadway in Lower Manhattan, near the intersection with the storied Wall Street, stands the church and graveyard of Trinity Church Wall Street. Looking at the property means you’re peering deep into the history of New York and the early days of the Republic — and into a modern-day real estate story involving Norwegians.

First, the church building.

The current church is the third one on the site, completed in 1846, so it isn’t the building that George Washington and especially Alexander Hamilton would have known. The second building was completed in 1790 to replace the original, which burned down in the Fire of 1776.

Richard Upjohn designed the current Gothic Revival structure as one of the first in a very long list of churches that he did. For a good many years, it was the tallest building in New York, or in the United States for that matter, which is a little hard to imagine in its current setting among taller buildings.

Being Holy Week, the church was fairly busy, though no service was going on when I visited.
Busy inside, but the real crowd was outside, in the graveyard.
A school group happened to be wandering through when I arrived. They might have come for the history of the entire place, but who had they really come to see?

Alexander Hamilton, of course.
I have to admit that I either didn’t know, or had forgotten, that he is buried at Trinity. In a way, that was a good thing, since it was a nice surprise.

Note the enormous number of pennies and other coins at the base of his stone. Seemed like even more than I saw at Benjamin Franklin’s grave, who had the benefit of being associated with “a penny saved is a penny earned.”

Eliza Hamilton, who outlived Alexander by more than 50 years and is buried next to him, collected her share of pennies, too.
That’s what you get for being the subject of a very popular musical in our time. Even I’ve heard some of the songs. Ann plays them in the car. They’re interesting. I’m all for musicals about major historical figures, but I’m not going to pay hundreds of dollars for a ticket.

The Hamiltons weren’t the only famed permanent residents of the graveyard. There’s steamboat popularizer Robert Fulton, who has a memorial fittingly erected by the American Society of Mechanical Engineers.

Here’s Capt. James “Don’t Give Up the Ship” Lawrence, hero of the War of 1812. His memorial’s looking a little green these days.
Nice detail on one side.

There are also plenty of memorials for regular 18th- and 19th-century folks. I’m glad to say they were getting some attention.

There are stones the likes of which aren’t made any more.

Or on which time has taken its toll.
About those Norwegians. Trinity Church Wall Street, which is part of the Episcopal Diocese of New York, is known for is being one of the wealthiest parishes in the nation. In 1705, Queen Anne granted the church 215 acres on the island of Manhattan. It still holds 14 of those acres, which these days are home to millions of square feet of commercial property. That kind of acreage would make anyone very rich indeed.

Recently —  in 2015 — the church monetized 11 of its office buildings by striking a deal with Norges Bank Investment Management, which oversees Norway’s sovereign wealth fund (a lot of North Sea oil money, I reckon). It’s no secret. I quote from the press release the church published:

“Norges Bank Investment Management will acquire its 44 percent share in a 75-year ownership interest for 1.56 billion dollars, valuing the properties at 3.55 billion dollars. The assets will be unencumbered by debt at closing.”

Unencumbered by debt. The sweetest words you can write about real estate.

“The properties are about 94 percent leased and total over 4.9 million square feet. They are all located in the Hudson Square neighborhood of Midtown South in Manhattan… The buildings were originally built in the early 1900s to house printing presses, but have been redeveloped by Trinity Church to attract a mix of creative office tenants.”

At the Tip of Manhattan

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“Charging Bull,” a 7,100-pound bronze at Broadway and Whitehall St. in Downtown Manhattan, seems even more popular than the statue of Rocky Balboa in Philadelphia, which certainly has its fans. My evidence is only anecdotal, judging by the number of people I saw around each, trying to take a picture. Rocky had a short line of people waiting to take their picture with him (in 2016, some 40 years after the movie came out).

But the Bull draws a crowd. In front of it:
Along with those eager to shoot its backside:
I was in New York City all of last week, where I met many of the editors of the company I now work for, plus writers and other staff, at an office in Downtown (Lower) Manhattan. Also during the trip, I spent time with a few old friends and their spouses, and my youngest nephew and his girlfriend. I even had a little time to walk around town, especially Downtown, which I enjoyed despite chilly air and some drizzle.

One of my walks took me to “Charging Bull,” which had its start as one of the heaviest works of guerilla art ever made, by Arturo Di Modica in the late 1980s. Now it’s a fixture on the tourist circuit, located almost as far south as you can go on the island, though not quite.

As is “Fearless Girl,” a much newer installation by Kristen Visbal, dating only from last year, and which was positioned to face the bull as an ad for an exchange-traded fund. I watched as one person after another posed with “Girl.”

Apparently Di Modica doesn’t like his work being upstaged by a little girl, but I can’t say that I much care. What’s interesting to me is their power as tourist magnets. Not many statues have that.

The statues are adjacent to a nice little park that has the distinction of being the first public park in New York, Bowling Green.
Note the fence. It rates a plaque, which says that the park was “leased in 1733 for use as a bowling green at a rental of one peppercorn a year. Patriots, who in 1776 destroyed an equestrian statue of George III which stood here, are said to have removed the crowns which capped the fence post, but the fence itself remains.”

The Alexander Hamilton U.S. Customs House rises over the park, roughly where Fort Amsterdam stood long ago.
The present structure dates from the early 1900s and was designed by Cass Gilbert, who’s best known for the Woolworth Building further uptown. These days, the building is home to a branch of the National Museum of the American Indian, which is part of the Smithsonian, as well as the United States Bankruptcy Court for the Southern District of New York.

Off to each side of the building, allegorical figures stand above; tourists loll below.
Across State Street from the building, in Battery Park, is a curious flagpole. Officially it’s the Netherland Monument. This is the base.

According to NYC Parks: “This monumental flagstaff commemorates the Dutch establishment of New Amsterdam and the seventeenth century European settlement which launched the modern metropolis of New York City. Designed by H.A.van den Eijnde (1869-1939), a sculptor from Haarlem in the Netherlands, the monument was dedicated in 1926 to mark the tercentenary of Dutch settlement, and the purchase of the island of Manhattan from Native Americans.”

How many people crowd around the bronze bull? Dozens at a time. Around the Dutch flagpole? None. Fitting, I guess. Bulls used to get their own cults. Flagpoles, not so much.

The Dutch flag wasn’t flying on the pole.

But at least I saw New York City flag, which is based on the tricolor of the Prince’s Flag of the Dutch Republic. Not as striking as the Chicago flag, but not bad at all.