Architecture and Shape: Arches

St. Louis is filled with a variety of architectural styles and shapes. I never fail to be amazed by the many glimpses of beauty I am treated to throughout downtown alone on a regular basis.

Downtown, of course, is home to the granddaddy of all arches, the symbol that, to many people, the city is synonymous with: the Arch. Well, yes. There is that.
After all, 630 feet of gleaming stainless (in both height and width) is a little hard to miss. But long before THE Arch and even long before its designer, Eero Saarinen, were thought of, St. Louis was awash in arches.

Let me show you what I mean.

First stop: Eads Bridge. Predates the Arch by almost a century. Have to think Saarinen found some inspiration here ...

At the corner of Sixth of Washington, is 555 Washington. This is one of the oldest extant buildings downtown (c.1870-ish). And, it is also full of arches.

Likewise a block away at the Missouri Athletic Club where the marquee and first-floor windows make my point.From there, just look across the street to the Roberts Vista. (The J. Kennard Carpet Co. building.) There's more of those arches!

In fact, the arches cover this building from top to bottom. This building is an early illustration of how the detail of an arch can break up an otherwise towering building of squares and rectangles.


Go a few blocks back down Fourth Street, toward the heart of downtown, and head up Pine until you hit Broadway. There you will find the two-towered Marquette Building.


Built in 1913, it was already a half-century old when they started building the Arch! More proof that the shape has dominated St. Louis architecture for more than a century.


If you have a certain view like some people do (oh, like maybe ME!) you can see that it, too, is topped off with arches.

Go down any block in downtown, any of them.

I defy you to make it all the way down a single street without being able to spot at least one arch. And, I'd even be willing to bet that you could spot a whole lot more than just one.

Even though downtown's modern architecture bent has been more focused on triangles and cubes, I guarantee that you will still find arches neatly tucked away somewhere.


The ultra-modern 600 Washington, which takes up a good chunk of Sixth Street, and is a study in cubist construction can't help but get in on the act.


So the next time you're surrounded by skyscrapers, (especially if you're in St. Louis) look up and look around. See any arches?


I'll bet you do.

And She Sets Sail … Bon Voyage!

I catch glimpses of the news each morning as I walk between my room and the bath, occasionally peering in at the TV in the living room. The Admiral was back in the headlines Tuesday because she was officially moving on.

She wouldn’t be under her own power; a barge would push her to Columbia, Ill., and a waiting scrap heap. She’d already overstayed thanks to rising river levels so workers began stripping away the upper deck weeks ago so she could pass beneath the bridges in her path.

I took an early lunch and headed for the riverfront. I decided to seek a perch atop the garage just off Morgan Street.

It’s hard to see much at ground level except through an occasional opening in a garage wall, but I spied a glint of silver reflecting in the baking hot sun. She’s still there! I hadn’t missed it.

I snapped a few photos and waited. And waited. And waited. And waited.

By 10:45, I decided I could run to a nearby sandwich shop and then resume my perch. That way, I’d at least go back to the office with something to eat!

I was encouraged by movement of the crane, that had been atop the now decimated upper deck, being moved over to the side.

More preparations were under way and her departure seemed imminent. Occasionally, a barge would go by, even though traffic was supposed to be halted. Then, even the Tom Sawyer paddle-wheeler, its decks lined with spectators, floated by.
Shortly after 11, after baking in the sun for about 40 minutes, I knew I had to leave and go back. Begrudgingly, I snapped a few more photos, threw the Admiral a salute and a wave and walked back. Back at the office, I dealt with a few tasks and then checked out a conference room overlooking the river.

I was delighted to find that I could see enough of the Admiral to know when it was moving. Even from my desk, careful craning provided me with a tiny sliver of the hulking boat. Then, she began to move. First, she pulls away from her moorings just opposite the MLK Bridge.
Then, she cruises beneath the historic Eads one final time.

At that point, the boat is extremely close to shore but soon begins to make a wide turn to put it out farther into the Mississippi. I gulp and tear up a bit as I get my initial firsthand look at the devastated upper decks, a place which had been the site of many happy childhood times.

The Admiral begins to straighten her course and then … leaves downtown St. Louis forever. As she glides from view, an era in both downtown’s history and mine ends.

R.I.P. SS Admiral

The Albatross 1907-1937

SS Admiral 1940-2011

A Modern Take on a Historical Building

I love and adore the Arcade Building (8th and Olive) across from the Old Post Office.

After financing fell through on a development deal, it’s just been languishing for years. There was talk of it being torn down. (NO! Absolutely friggin’ not, people!)

Recently though, someone boarded up the uppermost windows which had been almost completely exposed when the plastic that had been covering them deteriorated. I took that as a good sign.

Then, several weeks ago, I noticed these canvases being put into place. I took that as an even better sign. I think they are awesomely cool. Some of the arches, which really are part of the space they are covering, are part of the canvas. On a few others, they’ve left the real arches exposed and fit the canvas neatly inside the arch.

They’re cooler still considering that the pictures inside the arch shapes feature architectural features from other buildings. I recognize three.

One is from the Railway Exchange Building. Why is it familiar? I have a similar photo (that I took) on the wall in my office!


Another is from the American Theater. Again, I recognized it from my own photos of the theater ...

And, the most recognizable, is from the Wainwright Building.

This is one of the ones where they tucked the canvas beneath the actual arch of the entryway/window instead of including a fake version in the canvas. I like the Wainwright well enough. But I much prefer some of Louis Sullivan's other works, especially his other existing St. Louis skyscraper, the Union Trust building. (Yes, I know. Call it sacrilege, but I think they should have torn down the Wainwright instead of the Buder or Title Guaranty buildings.) Even so, I'm glad they didn't and one of that infamous trio survived.

Sullivan supposedly was a mentor to Frank Lloyd Wright, though I fail to see much of his influence in Wright's work. Sorry. Again with the sacrilege ... Wright reportedly called the Wainwright Building "the very first human expression of a tall steel office-building as Architecture."

Well, maybe.

Downtown St. Louis: Some Olive Street History

I love downtown St. Louis. But you already knew that. Even so, I got a reminder of just how much in two ways this week.

First, as I virtually trolled through a digital collection of Missouri History Museum photos, I mourned some of the buildings that had perished. It's so hard to look at some of the grandeur I see in these photos and know that someone decided it just wasn't worth saving. Conversely, I got seriously excited as I found images of others that I completely relish during my daily commute.

Then, as I took a lunchtime walk through the actual streets, my spirits were immediately buoyed by the sight of some of my favorite centenarians. Just about every block of the heart of downtown has some old building that has weathered a century or more. And I adore that. The late 19th and early 20th century architects responsible for these gems are among my idols.

Unfortunately, I am a directional idiot so seeing some of these photos tagged as the northeast corner of this intersection or the southwest corner of that, doesn’t help me get my bearings to figure out if the buildings in the photos even still exist. Luckily, I do know enough to recognize certain things. That’s why I was a little puzzled when I saw this photo of Olive Street featuring some of my most favorite buildings.

It’s a photo of the Union Trust building (which I wrote about here) in 1893.

It’s the best picture I have EVER seen of its original round windows that went around its second story. And look at the second-story gargoyles on the corners! I didn’t know it had those.

Wonder what happened to them when some idiot decided to cover over those beautiful windows back in 1924. (Though there’s a lone alley where you can see a precious few. My blog post features a shot of one of those originals.)

Though it was the age of art deco so, by then, some 30 years after it was first built, I guess the plainer front and the gargoyles might have seemed outdated to them.

I easily recognized the domed structure in the background as the Old Post Office. But what’s that rectangular structure between the two?

Beats me. Hey, wait … the Chemical Building is supposed to be there!

Oh, but it wasn’t built until 1896. Guess that could explain its absence, huh?

Then, I happened upon this Olive Street scene from a few years later – 1900 – and a block farther back.

You can see the unmistakable round windows of the Union Trust (and oh, look at those gargoyles!!!!) though the trolley covers the two-story entryway.

Sadly, I'm pretty sure that where that gentleman in the foreground is standing is now the edge of a parking lot. (I hope St. Louis has learned from its shameful history of razing historic structures and turning them into parking lots or garages!)

But just behind the trolley and opposite the power line … is the Chemical Building. (It’s the building with all the bay windows. It’s one of only two in the city with bay windows from bottom to top. The other is the LaSalle Building a few blocks away.)

God, I love this city.

In Praise of Austin P. Leland

If we tear everything down, how will our children and future generations know what America was like? If everything is a glass tower, how will they know our heritage? – Austin P. Leland (1907-1975)

I think I shuddered as I read that quote on a wall a few days ago. The words affected me that profoundly. You see, I didn’t know Austin P. Leland. In fact, I didn't even know who he was before this week.

Shame on me.

Leland was a longtime director of the Landmarks Association of St. Louis, and in the 1960s he led the fight to save St. Louis' Old Post Office building from demolition. He also was a trustee of the National Trust for Historic Preservation and of the Jefferson National Expansion Memorial.

Since 1978, Princeton University has issued The Austin P. Leland Award annually to recognize “general excellence in regional alumni activities to associations and clubs with more than 300 members.”

In my defense, when he launched a major offensive in 1964 to save the Old Post Office from the wrecking ball, I hadn’t even been conceived. When he died, I was just 9. While I didn’t know anything about the battle he helped wage to save that historic structure, I did get to witness the fruits of his labor. I saw the first phases of its redevelopment take place in the early 1980s, work that would be completed in 1984 – just in time for this glorious building’s centennial.

Speaking as one of the “future generations” that Leland alluded to in that now immortalized quote of his, we owe a debt of gratitude for keeping slices of America (or at least St. Louis’ portion of it) intact, for preserving our local heritage. Albeit belated, "Thank you, Mr. Leland."

While it’s been almost 46 years since this editorial page comic was published, as part of the argument to protect the Old Post Office, I think its message is just as valid now as ever.

It's a pretty apt depiction. I’m sick sometimes when I think of how much history and breathtaking architecture was lost in the name of the tornado that is “progress.” At least this was one piece that was spared -- because someone was brave enough and determined enough to stand up and say, "ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

No, I didn’t know Austin P. Leland – I only wish that I had.

Stay tuned for a lengthy and visual report on the historic structure his efforts left standing …

History Lost: The Ambassador Theater

When it opened in 1926, the 17-story Ambassador Theater building was hailed as “the greatest event in St. Louis since the World’s Fair.” Six floors were dedicated to the theater while the 11 uppermost stories housed office space.

It was a building drawn from the minds of architects C.W. and George L. Rapp, among the nation’s most successful designers of “movie palaces.” It was one of two such movie houses they built in St. Louis.

Here it is in all its glory from an opening night brochure.
Fortunately, the St. Louis Theatre built in 1925 and reopened as Powell Symphony Hall (home of the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra) in the 1960s, survived talk of demolition. The building in mid-town has been lovingly restored and pays tribute to its opulent roots.

But downtown, the Ambassador did not fare so well.

Stand at 7th and Locust today and you will hear the rush of a fountain, almost an eerie mimicking shadow of the applause that once rose from the site. The theater featured live shows into the mid-1930s, when it shifted to motion pictures. It added Cinerama movie screens in the 1950s but was shuttered by 1960 when a new Cinerama theater was built in mid-town.
The owners tried to offer a combination of movies and live music well into the next decade.

During the 1970s, it became a venue for popular rock acts including Van Morrison and KISS. The theater closed for good in 1976. Office tenants, however, remained on site until the late 1980s. During this time, the first six floors were gutted of its many lavish fixtures, including its stairways, and they were auctioned off.

The Ambassador remained in a state of limbo and steady decline during the 1990s until the neighboring modern bank building began lobbying for a “plaza” where the theater stood. They won their argument and the Ambassador was demolished between 1995 and 1996. (In some justice, that bank was swallowed up by another bank shortly thereafter. What goes around comes around.)

There’s some great insight and photos on this blog that I happened upon, oddly, while working on this piece. And Vanishing St. Louis offers some tear-jerking views of before, during, and after the demolition. (You can still appreciate how gorgeous the stage area and accents throughout were, even 60+ years later.)

Take a closer look at some of the building shots on those sites. Now look at the plaza photo. Does

anything look familiar?
Maybe these?


I’m not sure what the intent was, maybe to immortalize the theater in some way, but these reliefs are now attached to the wall of a historic bank building adjacent to the theater site and on the edge of the plaza. (I can’t believe I go past these things all the time and never made the connection!) I'm glad they're there and glad to finally know that they are.

There’s a saying that “old St. Louis theaters don’t die – they become parking lots.” Perhaps a bit of prophecy lies therein where the Ambassador is concerned.

Currently, discussions are under way in which the “plaza,” which really serves no real function, may become, what else, but a parking garage.

History Lost: The Buder Building

You might recall my few posts highlighting the gorgeous architecture in downtown St. Louis. I’ve got several more installments planned or under way.

However, I think it’s important to also note that much was lost to the wrecking ball during the late 1970s and early 1980s. For a while, it was almost as if St. Louis was on a targeted path to destroy its historic heritage and rightful place as an architectural gatekeeper. Unfortunately, there was another strong dose of this destructive activity in the 1990s and a quick shot even in recent years that took out two more historic goliaths.

So, I’ve decided to also share information (and photos where I can find them) of some of the history that was made in centuries past lost in recent decades. So I’ll occasionally be doing another feature: History Lost. I’m going to start with the Buder Building. You can see it above in a 1910 postcard, and shortly before it was demolished in 1984.

I never even knew what it was called. Sadly, when I embarked on this little journey, I didn't even realize which building it was until I pulled up that photo from 1984. Oh yeah. The building where KFC was.

How sad is that? God, I wish I had paid more attention.

At the turn of the 20th century and in the decade that followed, downtown’s Seventh Street between Market and Locust was a collection of huge, monumental – by that time’s standards—skyscrapers.

Constructed for approximately $600,000, the 13-story Buder opened in 1902 as the Missouri Pacific Building. It officially completed the city 1890s development plan for the west side of Seventh Street. Faced in light buff brick, the Buder was embellished with white terra cotta at the two story base and two story capital and around the windows in the eight story shaft.

It exhibited the richest and most extensive use of Beaux Arts/Renaissance Revival terra cotta ornament in the city. If the outside was regal and lavish, no expense was spared inside either as this 2002 blog entry featuring an interview with Bruce Gerrie, curator of the first major exhibit of antique doorknobs in the United States.

“The emblematic doorknobs were often the owner's signature. For instance, when the Missouri Pacific building was built in St. Louis, its doorknobs had MP molded into them. When the building was purchased by Gary Buder, he renamed the building the Buder Building, and installed doorknobs with BB on them.”

Under much protest, it was leveled in August 1984 to make room for “green space” as part of the Gateway Mall project.

Now, I’m as much a fan of parks and open green lots as the next person, but not at the expense of one of a city’s historic architectural gems.

When I saw this photo recently, it almost moved me to tears.

Look at all that grandeur and beauty – fragmented and in a heap – treated like so much trash. (This was some of the rubble after they imploded it.) Thankfully, I also found this photo which shows workmen salvaging the angels (below) that can be seen in the shot of the building’s main entrance at far right.
I think progress is a wonderful thing but it should never trump our heritage. You can always build a new building. You can never replace one built a century or more before.

It reminds me of something I heard my grandmother say more than once: "Forget where you came from and you might never figure out where you're going ."

Don't worry, Gram. I won't forget.

Ties That Bind

I love hanging out and reading some of the HouseBlogs.net contributors. I don't have nearly as much time to do it as I'd like. There are so many. I'm slooooowly updating my blog roll, too, and I'm find tons that I am enjoying, so have patience.

One thing I really love is when some of you write about connections to the original owners of your homes (or in some case the previous owners who only lived there for 40 or 50 years). As much as I b*tch about this place, you can't put that kind of time, money, and effort into something without creating some kind of a bond. By contrast, our house isn't that old really. "Born" circa 1940, it's not quite 70 yet.

Even so, it's comparatively old for my neighborhood. Only one house across the street existed when This D*mn House and the one next door was built. The couples who originally had the two adjacent homes bought the lot dividing the two properties and split ownership so that no one could build between them. (God bless them for that. Good neighbors, but still nice to have a little breathing room. Wish that had happened on the other side as well.)

I had an odd connection to the original owner. One day, a few years after we'd moved in, a lady came and knocked on the door and asked if she could visit -- and if she could bring her parents. They had built the house and she thought they'd love to see the changes. They were in town and visiting relatives and mom agreed to welcome all of them the next day. When I got in from work, our guests were still on-site.

As it turned out, it was the first home of the man who was once the publisher of the local paper and his wife -- the paper where I was, at that time, employed. Talk about coincidence. It was a really nice evening with that family. The original owners seemed pleased with all the updating we'd done, which was nothing then compared to now. I wish I'd thought to ask them if they had some pictures from when they first built it. Of course, I was in my early 20s and could have cared less. I think they have since died but I may try to look up their daughter. You don't know 'til you try, right?

One thing they did for us: They brought the "bill of sale" for the house, itemizing all the materials and the estimated labor and finance charges. It's hilarious. I think the grand total was something like $3,000. I went looking for it as we have it framed and had it on the wall. But then I remembered that the glass got broken so I wasn't sure where it was.

The mother says it's "wrapped up downstairs someplace" awaiting replacement glass. So I'll apologize for no picture. The warehouse that is the family room right now isn't something I'm prepared to brave. I'll share it another time.