designslinger

Potter Palmer Houses, Astor Street, Chicago

designslinger — Sat, 04 Feb 2012 12:48:28 GMT

[Potter Palmer Houses, Astor Street, Chicago /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

In 1881, Potter Palmer built Chicago's largest, most opulent, and at one time, most famous house. Although the $2,000,000 "Castle" was torn down in 1950 to make way for a matching set of high-rise apartment towers, a few of Palmer's other adventures in real estate can still be found around the city. This row of 5 Romanesque row houses were built by the former hotelier turned real estate mogul in 1889, and designed by architect Charles M. Palmer. The two men were not related, they just happened to share the same last name.

[Potter Palmer Houses, 1316-1326 N. Astor Street, Chicago /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

Palmer purchased large pieces of undeveloped property in and around his lakefront facing house including 5 vacant lots at 1316-26 Astor and Banks Street, just around the corner from his palatial mansion. He built each of the 5 single family row houses on spec, meaning that he didn't have buyers lined-up prior to construction, and after they were finished, ended up renting them rather than selling them. Spec or not, he spared no expense. Architect Palmer's designs included expertly-crafted, high-end materials, as well as the latest in residential innovations like steam heat and hot water plumbing.

[Potter Palmer Houses /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

When Potter Palmer died in 1902, his wife and two sons inherited an estate valued at $25-30 million, an inheritance worth around $750,000,000 today. Bertha Honore Palmer, the "Queen" of Chicago society eventually sold many of her husband's rental properties and got $45,000 for the 14 rooms at no. 1316 Astor. Unfortunately the 1950s were not kind to the Castle, the neighborhood, or the row. A lot of these grand old houses were torn down or converted from single family homes into apartment buildings or rooming houses, and nos. 1316, 18, 20, 22 and 26 (now known by its Banks Street address, 25 East) weren't spared. The house Bertha Palmer sold for $45,000 in 1916 was an apartment building by 1951, and the back half of no. 1326, (or 25 E. Banks) had been converted into a rooming house.

Although the row has gone from grand to not so grand and back again, the heavy stone exteriors lived through it all and would as recognizable to Mr. Palmer today as the day he built them.

See more Palmer & Palmer projects at: Potter Palmer Houses, Schiller Street, Chicago; Along Cedar Street; A Pan-Hellenic Row; and a row of houses just to the south of our penta-group at: James L. Houghtelling Houses/John W. Root House.

Friday Snippets 2.3.12

designslinger — Fri, 03 Feb 2012 07:30:00 GMT

[Matic Klers Connection (1890) Auditorium Building, Chicago /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

New York Gehry. [Observer]

Banner inspected. [Architect's Newspaper]

Tokyo ten. [Guardian]

Meshed. [Inhabitat]

Objet 2012. [Dwell]

Bike bling. [id-mag]

February? Already?? See you Monday.

John Sexton & Co. Building

designslinger — Wed, 01 Feb 2012 08:00:00 GMT

[John Sexton & Co. Building (1916/1928) Alfred S. Alschuler, architect /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

Grocery wholesaler John Sexton built his nearly block long building in 1916 to house his expanding business empire of canned goods and restaurant supplies. Today, architect Alfred S. Alschuler's industrial loft structure houses the owners and renters of 252 condominiums.

[John Sexton & Co. Building, 360 W. Illinois Street, Chicago /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

Sexton came to Chicago in 1877, and after a few years working as a clerk in a couple of grocery and dry goods stores in the city, took his entire life savings of $400 and ventured out on his own. By 1913, Sexton & Co. was one of the largest wholesale food suppliers in the country. The company provided canned and dry goods products to restaurants, hotels, schools and commercial kitchens. With an ever expanding nation-wide customer base, and outgrowing their plant at Lake and Franklin Streets, Sexton needed to find, or build, a larger production and warehouse facility.

[The Sexton (1997) Fitzgerald Associates, architects /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

A large piece of property was found in the industrial and manufacturing district located near the north branch of the Chicago River. Not only were Sexton goods moved by boat, but adjacent Kingsbury Street was essentially paved with railroad tracks moving freight from Chicago out into the world. This made it very convenient for Alschuler to run a spur line from a main track on Kingsbury straight into the ground level of the Sexton building. Now thousands of tons of pickles, canned peaches, canned meat, coffee, tea, maple syrup, soap and kitchen cleansers could be loaded from the floors above directly on to a train car. It was a booming efficient operation, and was on its way to outgrowing the Illinois Street location. When Sexton purchased his property for $300,000 in 1913, the corner at Orleans and Illinois was not included in the sale. Eventually Sexton bought the corner lot, and in 1928 Alschuler was hired to expand the existing $500,000, 6-story building with a matching 6-story addition. The enlarged structure now stretched along the entire blockfront from Kingsbury to Orleans. Then, after decades of hard work overseeing the explosive growth of his business and signing-off on the Alschuler expansion, Sexton retired at the age of 70. He turned the company over to his sons and went to his winter home in LA where he died the next year at age 71.

By 1955 the once modern, efficient plant was outdated and could no longer provide for the needs of the still expanding company. So Sexton & Co. sold the warehouse in 1956 for a reported $1 million. In 1997 plans were announced for a loft conversion at 360 W. Illinois. A floor of apartments was added to the roof, balconies were suspended from the exterior, the interior floors, posts and beams were cleaned and polished, and the old warehouse that had once produced pickles, jellies, and jams, stored thousands of pounds of coffee and tea, and supported the weight of acres of shelving lined with commercial cleaning supplies, would now provide chic urban living spaces for a new breed of city dwellers.

See another Alschuler building nearby at: Cafeteria Style.

Auditorium Building Tower

designslinger — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 08:00:00 GMT

[Auditorium Building (1890) Adler & Sullivan, architects /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

Adler & Sullivan's Auditorium Building is one of those moments in time on history's architectural calendar that made Chicago famous. Heralded as a groundbreaker when it was constructed in the late 1880s, and astonishing as it may sound, the building was slated for demolition in the 1920s, 30s and 40s. Then just after the Second World War, Roosevelt University stepped-up to the plate and purchased the unprofitable white elephant. Today, after decades of restorative stewardship under the watchful eyes of caring custodians, the building proudly bears the title masterpiece.

[Auditorium Building, 430 S. Michigan Avenue, Chicago /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

When Dankmar Adler and Louis Sullivan moved into their tower offices just before the structure opened to the public in 1890, it looked like this dynamic duo were in for a dazzingly bright, project packed, future ahead of them. With an unobstructed view of the city from behind a long band of colonnade fronted windows on the tower-topping 16th floor, the partners were sitting on top of the world. Nothing could stop them now, the Auditorium was a marketer's dream, publications from New York to Berlin featured the architect's cutting-edge design, they were hot. But just 3 years later the U.S. economy collapsed, and soon after, the team of Adler & Sullivan would be no more.

[Auditorium Tower, Congress Street, Chicago /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

But before the partners went their separate ways, the architects and designers on the 16th floor of the Auditorium tower produced some wonderful buildings. While cranking out profitable work designing a number of factories, the pair also produced the Transportation Building for the 1983 World's Fair, the Wainwright Building in St. Louis, the Guaranty in Buffalo, N.Y., Chicago's 1891 Schiller Building, and the Chicago Stock Exchange Building in 1894. Sullivan's lead designer and protege Frank Lloyd Wright, designed the Charnley House under his Lieber Meister's supervision in 1891, before being fired by Sullivan for designing a few house projects on the side in 1893.

1893 was also the year that kicked-off the worst economic depression in U.S. history, until the 1930 downturn. From that year on, Adler & Sullivan received fewer and fewer commissions, and Adler left the 12-year partnership in 1895 when he was offered a $25,000-a-year salaried position at the Crane elevator company. He lasted there barely 12 months and decided to pratice on his own, choosing not to start-up again with Sullivan. Both bore grudges, Sullivan couldn't forgive Adler for leaving, and Adler was upset with Sullivan for taking sole credit for the design of the Guaranty Building. Adler's sons joined him in private practice until the his death at age 55 in 1900.

Sullivan soldiered on in his 16th floor aerie, designing the first phase of what later grew into the Schlesinger & Mayer Department Store Building at State and Madison Streets, which was subsequently purchased by Carson, Pirie Scott & Co. It was also during this time that he designed his only New York City project, the Bayard Building, completed in 1899. But the jobs were few and far between. In 1906 he got the first of his famous bank commissions, a job that led to 7 more bank projects over the next decade. But the commissions were small in scale and didn't pay the bills. By 1909, Sullivan was in such dire straights that he auctioned off all his household goods and extensive architectural library. And in 1918, with just one part-time employee on the payroll, he could no longer afford to keep the office he had called home for 28 years. When he died in 1924, Wright, along with several other former employees and architects, including Adler's son Sidney, paid for the destitute Sullivan's funeral.

Eventually Roosevelt converted the double-height, 16th floor office into two floors of departmental office space. And if you have the opportunity to visit one of the professors up on 16, you'll find a wall plaque in the hallway with a floor plan showing the two-story drafting room, Sullivan's corner office with the door that connected directly to Wright's adjoining office, and the consultation room that separated Sullivan from Adler's office. A reminder of the magic once produced in that towering space.

See more of the Auditorium Building at: Supreme Reprieve and Arcaded Away.

Friday Snippets 1.27.12

designslinger — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 08:00:00 GMT

[N. Dearborn (1928) 1366 N. Dearborn Parkway /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

Kazakh trained. [Architizer]

Hajj pictured. [Telegraph]

Photo docked. [Wired]

Museum Pianoed. [Wallpaper]

Museum madeover. [NY Times]

Mysterious oddities. [Design Observer]

Happy weekend. See you Monday!

1366 North Dearborn Parkway

designslinger — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 08:00:00 GMT

[1366 North Dearborn Parkway (1927) McNally & Quinn, architects /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

When 1366 Dearborn Parkway was built in 1927 the surrounding neighborhood was undergoing significant changes. Situated in the upscale Gold Coast community, the building replaced just another one of those old 19th century mansions built by Grandpa and Grandma. This was the Roaring Twenties afterall, so with no remorse, feelings of nostalgia, or hankering for old-world craftsmanship, it was out with old and in with the new.

[1366 North Dearborn Parkway, Chicago /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

Architects McNally & Quinn's 14-story brick and limestone, multi-family structure replaced a 4,000 square foot, 20-room single family home built in 1876. The longest occupants of the house were also its last, the Samuel Morse Felton family. Felton was in the railroad business at a time when the railroad industry was big business in Chicago. Think of it in terms of the money Wall Street and the financial industry brings into New York today, or the imapct of the buckets of cash the technology industry loads into the Silicon Valley. So Felton was just one in a number of wealthy businessmen connected to railroading, which led to bank directorships, and the elusive, exclusive, well-connected, club memberships. But by 1925, he was 73 years old and downsizing. He resigned the presidency of the Chicago Great Western Railway and became company's first Chairman of the Board. He sold his house on the corner of Schiller and Dearborn Streets, and embracing the new modern way of living, moved into a large single-floor apartment at 233 E. Walton Street.

[Dearborn-Schiller Apartments /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

Unlike many of their neighboring high-rise developers, the new owners of the old Felton parcel Arthur and Garrett Fitzgerald, took a different approach in the way they would maximize a return on their their $800,000 real estate investment. The majority of the apartment towers popping-up around the neighborhood were of the exclusive, cooperative-restricting type, but the Dearborn-Schiller Apartments were designed with a less well-heeled clientele in mind. While nearby coops might have one unit per floor with up to 13-rooms or more, Dearborn-Schiller would have a total of 39 units on 13 floors with 3 apartments per floor, two 6-room and one 3-room. But, there was an added perk as the Chicago Tribune pointed out in a November 28, 1926 article, "Family rows will be quite all right in these apartments for the dividing walls between the apartments will be of double thickness with felt deadening to eliminate the passage of sound. So if friend wife doesn't approve of the way her lord and master takes his soup or the daughter of the family arrives too long past the 1 o'clock deadline the sky can be the limit in acrid remarks."

While voices may still be muffled at 1366, change came in the mid-1980s when the building went from rental to condo. And although curfews may still be broken followed by a lot of shouting, there are probably very few wives living there today who still consider their husbands their lord and master.

See some of the remaining 1870s-era, single family homes along Dearborn at: John P.Wilson & Joseph C. Bullock Houses, and the Luther McConnell House.

150 N. Michigan Avenue

designslinger — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 10:11:44 GMT

[150 N. Michigan Avenue (1983) Sheldon Schlegman, A. Epstein & Sons, architects /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

Oh that slice. Some people love it, some hate it. When A. Epstein & Sons architect Sheldon Schlegman's cutting-edge design rose above the prominent Chicago intersection of Randolph and Michigan, there was a hue and cry from the architectural community heard from one end of Grant Park to the other. The building faced the city's great front yard park and was the northernmost structure of the famous Michigan Avenue wall, a line of buildings constructed during the late 1880s and early 1900s. 150 N. Michigan became, what many considered to be an exclamation point on an architectural sentence that defiled the history and context of the existing streetscape.

[150 N. Michigan Avenue, Chicago /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

The building replaced a structure designed by Holabird & Roche in 1920 for the John Crerar library. Not one of the firms more heralded buildings, the 14-story structure with its limestone facade trimmed with classically-inspired decoration did fit in nicely with the existing streetscape. When the former library building was purchased by Collins Tuttle & Co. in 1981, the New York based developer hired Epstein to designed a new building for the site. The two companies had established their working relationship when the developer hired the architects to design another Michigan Avenue building, the Borg-Warner, in 1955. They went on to design and build another 3 buildings as a team before the 150 Michigan commission came along.

[Smurfit-Stone Building, 150 N. Michigan Avenue/Image & Artwork: designslinger]

Epstein was not known for award winning, groundbreaking design, they turned out buildings that worked for their clients. Abraham Epstein came to the U.S. at the age of 12, went to the University of Illinois where he got an engineering degree and opened a structural engineering office on Chicago's Pershing Road in 1921. Primarily the structural engineer on large manufacturing and indutrial projects, Epstein, later joined by sons Raymond and Sidney, expanded into a very busy and profitable architectural and engineering design firm.

Construction on One Parke Place started in 1981, but by the time the building was ready for occupancy in 1983, the name had changed to 150 North Michigan Avenue. In 1986, when U.S. Equities Group took over as leasing agent, the name was changed to Associates Center for primary tenant Associates Combined Corporation. Then the name was changed to the Stone Container Building and after a merger in the 1990s, the Smurfit-Stone Building. Then after Smurfit-Stone was purchased and relocated out of Chicago in 2010, the building went back to being called 150 N. Michigan.

Has time softened the harsh criticism of the dramatic, streetscape-altering slice? Apparently the steep slope has charmed the millions of people flooding into Chicago's newest and hottest attraction, Millennium Park, so perhaps all is forgiven.

See Epstein's other Michigan Avenue project at the: Borg-Warner Building; and more of the famous Michigan Avenue wall at: Culturally Centered; Venetian Light; Heroic Athleticism; Railway Exchange; Metropolitan Tower/Straus Building; Fine Arts Building; Arcaded Away; Supreme Reprieve; Hotel Annexed; Blackstone Hotel, Chicago; and Stevens Hotel.

Friday Snippets 1.20.12

designslinger — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 08:00:00 GMT

[Kirchheimer Brothers (ca. 1910) /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

Spruced-up Schindler. [archinect]

Detroit revisited. [Design Observer]

Criticism criticized. [NewCity Art]

Watched. [ARTINFO]

American wrap-around. [NY Times]

3D model. [Wallpaper]

Enjoy the weekend. See you Monday.

Assumption Catholic Church, Chicago

designslinger — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 09:10:26 GMT

[Assumption Catholic Church (1886) Giuseppe Beretta, architect /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

The subtitle of this post might read, "The little church that could." Built in 1886, Assumption Italian Roman Catholic Church survived as a parish without parishioners because of a determined pastor and a steady stream of faithful worshipers.

[Assumption Catholic Church, 321 W. Illinois Street, Chicago /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

The church and parish got off the ground in 1880 when a Servile priest Sosteneus Moretti purchased a plot of land on Illinois street, just north and east of the Chicago River. Back then the area was a mix of working class residential housing with some commercial and industrial properties thrown in, especially close to the river's edge. Moretti wanted to build a church that would serve Chicago's growing Italian community and have the non-Latin portions of the Roman Catholic mass said in Italian. At the time many, if not most Catholic churches conducted services in their local immigrant community's native tongue, but nothing existed for native Italian speakers. If there was such a thing. The country we know today as Italy didn't even exist until the 1860s, and many "Italian" immigrant identities were defined by the region they came from, not by their country. Plus, regional dialects could be so different that one "Italian" might not understand what their fellow countryman was saying. Moretti looked past all these dissimilarities and was able to unite the disperse local community around the similarity of their shared Italian culture, and jump-start his church.

[Assumption Catholic Church, Chicago /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

Money was raised, and in 1881 a foundation and basement was dug, a roof put over it, and services began. The parish thrived, and in 1886, architect Giuseppe Beretta's church building, with its prominent bell tower, rose up over the neighborhood. For the next 10 years, if you wanted to attend a Catholic mass where the priest said the homily in Italian, this was the place to come to. But with the establishment of other Italian-based parishes, and a neighborhood that became almost exclusively commercial and industrial, Assumption needed to look for worshipers who might not necessarily be parishioners to keep the ball rolling.

In 1938, Father Thomas Ferrazzi was made pastor of the struggling church and he came up with an idea to help insure Assumption's survival. Market yourself to the thousands of workers who flooded into the neighborhood every day to labor in the nearby factories. It worked for a while, but by 1954 the jig was up. Assumption now found itself worshipper challenged as manufacturers left the city for the suburbs, and then discovered that the church had been included in a master plan calling for the demolition of the building and the surrounding block, to make way for the $400 million Fort Dearborn development. Father Ferrazzi started Friends of Assumption and began a campaign to raise money to save the church.

Needless to say, it worked. And by 1973, Pastor Ferrazzi was able to once again make his claim that this was a church without a parish, but overflowing with worshippers. Today the bell tower, once the tallest structure in the area, is hard to find among the high-rises of the now chic, River North neighborhood. And with all the loft conversions and the construction of muilt-story apartment buildings nearby, a new group of residents - and parishoners.

See one of the new, nearby residential towers at: Erie on the Park.

Voltz Hall

designslinger — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 08:00:00 GMT

[Voltz Hall (ca. 1875) /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

John Voltz was one among many who came to Chicago in the first wave of Germanic peoples migrating to the city in the 1850s and 60s. Many of these early, near north side settlers were from the old Ducal Kingdoms in the southern reaches of the unified German states like Bavaria, or Württemberg, where the Voltz name was first recorded in the 13th century. After establishing himself in his new hometown, this industrious entrepreneur built a building on the corner of Chicago Avenue and Wells Street soon after the big fire of 1871. He opened a saloon on the ground floor, lived on the second, and rented out the large, two-story assembly room on the third. He named the building Voltz Hall.

[Voltz Hall, 800 N. Wells Street, Chicago /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

With a steady income flowing in from liquor sales and hall rentals, Voltz used this cash harvest to build a rental apartment building in the what had been the back yard of the hall building, and increased his revenue stream even further. During the 1880s Voltz, along with many other saloon owners, were in a constant battle with certain city lawmakers and temperance activists over Sunday closing laws. It was a war between working class immigrants and a predominately upper class elite who saw liquor as the root of all evil, especially among certain ethnic and economic groups. For the labor class, Sunday was the only day to let loose and have some fun and recreation since back in those days most people worked Monday through Saturday. The idea of closing the saloons on Sundays was seen by many German nationals as a direct attack on their way of life, and an effort by the establishment to deny them their constitutional right of freedom and assembly. Large marches were held, especially on the city's north side, with many ending in rousing rallys in Voltz's third floor hall. In 1881, a warrant was issued for the bar owner on a charge of selling liquor to a minor, which many believed was a scare tactic used by officials to harrass a successful saloon keeper.

[Voltz Hall, Chicago /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

Not only were the natives restless over their right to socialize, but the 1880s and early 90s was also a time of great labor unrest. Chicago was a hub of the nascent labor movement in the United States and Voltz Hall served as a meeting place for many workers seeking better working conditions and a fair wage. On March 3, 1892, 250 women employed in the Selz, Schwab & Co. shoe factory on nearby Superior Street, walked off the job and marched to Voltz Hall for a rally. And it wasn't only local labor issues that drew people to the third floor space. In 1905 members of the city's large Swedish community rallied at the hall to raise money for the 20,000 iron and steel workers locked-out of Sweden's mills and shipyards.

After John's death his widow Gertrude ran the business with her sons John, William and Charles. In 1907, following their mother's death in 1906, the Voltz boys sold their inherited piece of property to Mr. John O'Connell. Prohibition killed the bar business, and the building languished for several years, a little worse for wear, with the old copper cornice barely hanging on, and a patched and worn, patinated, copper crown topping-off the unique, square corner turret. Today the original cornice has been replaced with a updated version of its old self, the brick has been cleaned and re-tucked, and the old windows are now single panels of tinted bronze. The corner saloon has seen its fair share of businesses come and go, and Voltz's hall now serves as the home of the New School for Massage.

See another Germanic-influenced meeting place at: Deutchen im Chicago.

Friday Snippets 1.13.12

designslinger — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 08:00:00 GMT

[The John Marshall Law School, Maurice L. Rothschild & Co. Building (1906-1931) /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

Endocrine mecca. [Architizer]

Fissures and faults, and sulfur and salt. [National Geographic]

Out in space. [Wired]

Two New York views. [Guardian]

Wright buy. [chicago.curbed]

Tech island. [Architectural Record]

50 degree days in January? In Chicago?! Nice. See you Monday.

Maurice L. Rothschild & Co. Building

designslinger — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 08:00:00 GMT

[Maurice L. Rothschild & Co. Building (1906/1910/1931) Holabird & Roche/Alfred S. Alschuler, architects /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

When Maurice L. Rothschild opened his clothing store in 1906, the building, designed by architects Holabird & Roche, was much smaller than the structure we see today. The original, 8-story building went from end to end of the property line along the Jackson Street side of the lot (the shaded, fire-escaped facade) but extended only two window bays beyond its angled corner along State Street (the sun-filled side of the picture). In 1910, after 4 years of booming business, Rothschild had the architects extend the State Street facade another 3 bays, and added another floor, growing upward from eight stories to nine. Then in 1929, architect Alfred Alschuler drew-up plans for the final State Street bay, and by 1931, added another three floors to top-off the previous nine. Whew. You might be able to pick out some of the additions if you look closely at the photos. Notice how one of the vertical, white, terra cotta piers along State is thicker than the others, that marks the line of the original 2 bays. It may be a little easier to see where Alschuler begins and Holabird & Roche end.

[Maurice L. Rothschild & Co. Building, 300 S. State Street, Chicago /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

Growing the physical plant as revenues grew was not uncommon among the retailers of State Street. Marshall Field did it, as did the Netchers with their Boston Store, as well as Schlesinger & Mayer's ever expanding Louis Sullivan designed store, which continued to grow under the ownership of Carson Pirie Scott & Co.

[Maurice L. Rothschild & Co. Building/John Marshall Law School /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

Rothschild came to Chicago from Germany as a young man in the early 1880s. After a stint as a clerk in a dry goods store on Madison Street, he headed out to Seneca, Kansas where he opened his own store with dreams of someday coming back to Chicago and opening a retail establishment on Chicago's famed State Street. After opening a store in Minneapolis, where his sister Gusta lived, Rothschild was ready to take on the Chicago market in 1903. He secured a 99-year ground lease for the property on the southwest corner of State and Jackson, and by 1906, another of Holabird & Roche's cutting-edge, Chicago School-famed, modern designs was rising out of the ground.

Maurice was not the first Rothschild to be located on Chicago's premiere retail thoroughfare. Abraham Rothschild had opened A.M. Rothschild & Co. on State Street in 1895, which it just so happened, stood directly across from Maurice's emporium. Abraham committed suicide in 1902, and his widow married Maurice Rothschild three years later.

Rothschild prospered along with his store and when he died in 1941, the former clerk left an estate worth $17 million. Maurice L. Rothschild & Co. closed their State Street location in 1971 and leased out the ground floor space for retail purposes, while renting the upper floors to the nearby John Marshall Law School in 1973. John Marshall now owns the building, and when the Walgreen's retail lease expired last year, the law school took over the 50,000 square feet and is in the midst of converting the space into a new main entry for the school, a student commons, and a bookstore.

See more on the A.M. Rothschild Store at: Three R's - Rothschild, Renovation & Reuse; a few more retail to education revamps at: A Flexible Structure and Lytton's Department Store Building; another of Holabird & Roche's ever expanding establishments at: The Boston Store Chicago; Louis Sullivan's great State Street emporium at: Relics of Retail; and finally, the granddaddy of the grand old department stores at: Retail Revived.

Isaac G. Ettleson Building

designslinger — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 08:00:00 GMT

[Isaac G. Ettleson Building (1911/1931) Harry Hale Waterman/Alfred S. Alschuler, architects /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

The white terra cotta eagles, spread wing to wing along the cornice line of the building at Sheridan & Broadway on Chicago's north side, is known as the Isaac G. Ettleson Building. Once occupied by the Hamilton State Bank, the avian crowned, 2-story structure was pretty much empty by the late 1920's when then owner Samuel Phillipson commissioned architect Alfred S. Alschuler to remodel and enlarge the vintage Ettleson building.

[Isaac G. Ettleson/Samuel Phillipson Building, 3837-45 N. Broadway, Chicago /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

Phillipson was a wholesale clothing merchant and a real estate investor. He began his career in the city's old Jewish neighborhood around Maxwell, Halsted and Roosevelt Road, then known as 12th Street. By the 1920s he had moved from a large near west side home on South Ashland Boulevard to a large home on Sheridan Road, located on the city's north side. The Phillipsons became active members of congregation Anshe Emet, which just happened to be located around the corner from the Ettleson building, and he began acquiring investment property in and around his new neighborhood.

[Isaac G. Ettleson/Samuel Phillipson Building /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

When Phillipson bought the Ettleson building, the existing structure did not fill the entire corner lot. It stood 25 feet south of Sheridan Road which was at the northern end of the property's lot line. (It's the area at the left hand side of the picture where the sign reads Starbucks.) So when Phillipson hired Alschuler in 1931, the architect increased the size of the existing structure 25 feet to the lot line, remodeled the old building, and added more office space to the second floor. Phillipson had secured a long term lease from F.W. Woolworth & Co. for almost the entire first floor, and he marketed the redone second floor offices to doctors and dentists.

Woolworth's left the building in the mid-1980s, as had most of the doctors and dentists. But Alschuler's Art Deco inspired ground floor storefront, along with the original, second floor, wood sash windows, survived for several years before being removed for the white-brick-and-stucco, vinyl-window-framed redo we see today.

See another gleaming white Alschuler project at: Cafeteria Style, and a dark bricked commercial commission at: Weights and Measures.

Friday Snippets 1.6.12

designslinger — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 10:40:04 GMT

[McDougall (ca. 1900) Kenmore Avenue, Chicago /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

Fanzinechitecture. [NYT Magazine]

Building Toronto. [Architectural Record]

Building NY. [NY Magazine]

Spain's new wave. [Wallpaper]

Da Vinci in detail. [Guardian]

Zeiselramic. [NY Times]

Well that wraps up the first week of the new year. See you Monday.

Engine Company 42 - Chicago Fire Department

designslinger — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 08:00:00 GMT

[Engine Company 42 (1887) Chicago Fire Department /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

It's not hard to figure out what original purpose this building served since the name and date are still inscribed on the facade. It is truly amazing that the structure has survived as long as it has, virtually intact.

[Engine Company 42, 228 W. Illinois Street, Chicago /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

Located in an area of Chicago now known as River North, in 1887 when the firehouse was constructed, the area was smaller scaled and contained a mixture of working class residential structures tucked in among a variety of manufacturing and industrial properties. The Chicago Fire Department was expanding at the time, keeping up with the demands of a city population that was growing at a rate faster than any other place on the planet. This state-of-the-art structure provided housing for 13 firemen, housing for 1500 feet of 2 1/2" hose, 1 hosecart, a cutting-edge Ahrens 1st Class Steamer, and 5 horses. Hoof-drawn fire equipment survived in the city until 1923, when the last horses were retired after a February 5th fire.

[Former Engine Company 42, Chicago Fire Department /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

The firehouse was put into retirement and mothballed in the early 1960s when the Department consolidated five companies and moved them out of old, antiquated structures and into a new, larger, much more modern facility nearby. This Illinois Street building stood empty for a few years before being taken over by the city's Department of Streets and Sanitation, which used the structure as a warehouse and garage until the late 80s. The building had a revival of sorts in the late 90s as a featured character in the Chicago based television series Early Edition, where the old firehouse served as the location of McGinty's bar. Today it's empty and available for lease.

And what of the other four consolidated 19th century engine company firehouses? Well beside this building, only one other survives. And of these two, only our landmarked former fire station still looks almost exactly like it did 124 years ago.

The New Year

designslinger — Mon, 02 Jan 2012 08:02:00 GMT

[Grant Park Pylon (ca. 1920) Edward H. Bennett, architect /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

Its' a new year. And given the past few weeks, 2012 will have to encompass a new daily routine, along with renewed attention to the bad behavior that helps contribute to severe arm injuries. The ouch! is much improved, but things still aren't back to normal - so there may be a new normal.

Ouch or no ouch, we're coming back to regularly scheduled blogging - just with fewer days than last year. We'll be publishing three times a week from now on: Monday, Wednesday and Friday. And although we're cutting back a bit from the pre-injury five day routine, we hope you will still find the pics and stories interesting and entertaining enough to keep coming back for more.

Also want to say thanks for your patience while we've taken a break - especially to all of you out there who subscribe - and we'll see everyone back here on Wednesday.

Happy New Year!

Less Ouch

designslinger — Mon, 12 Dec 2011 08:00:00 GMT

[Right rotator cuff, repetitive stress injury (RSI) /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

So the old/new right rotator cuff, repetitive stress injury (RSI) is on the mend. Recovery is taking a little longer this time around since the damage was a little more severe than last time. With continued physical therapy, perseverance, and lots of patience, the old/new daily routine should be up to speed in the not too distant future, including here at designslinger. Just have to hang in there.

Ouch!

designslinger — Thu, 01 Dec 2011 12:01:46 GMT

[Upper right shoulder pain /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

Well an old right rotator cuff arm injury has reared its ugly head, with its inflamed, torn muscles and lots of pain. Recovery involves muscle relaxers, ice packs, massage and complete rest for the entire arm. Being right-handed, this is a real pain in more ways than one.

Intensive therapy will take at least a week or two (hopefully no more), and as soon as everything is okay and operational once again, we'll be back to our regular posting schedule.

So bear with us for a bit, because we will be back. There are just too many interesting stories left to tell!

designslinger - Word of the Week: impost

designslinger — Wed, 30 Nov 2011 08:03:00 GMT

[impost (1887) Perry H. Smith House /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

impost [IM-pohst] n. a masonry unit, often distinctively profiled and decorative, that receives and distributes the thrust at one end of an arch.

Erie on the Park

designslinger — Mon, 28 Nov 2011 08:05:00 GMT

[Erie on the Park (2002) Lucien Lagrange Architects, architect /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

Designing a building always presents as series of challenges, but having to contend with a site shaped like a parallelogram is one of the more unique issues an architect might have to deal with.

[Erie on the Park, 510 W. Erie Street, Chicago /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

As the 20th century turned into the 21st, developer William Smith presented architect Lucien Lagrange with the task of designing a building for the oddly-shaped plot of land. The intersection around Erie and Kingsbury had once been home to the Jones, Coats & Bailey Lumber Yard, a stove works, packing box factory, Aetna Iron Works, the Charles Emmerich Feather Pillow Co., the Rutlan Transit Co. Freight House, serviced by a bundle of railroad tracks belonging to the Chicago & Evanston Railroad Co., later the Chicago, Milwaukee, St. Paul & Pacific Railroad.

[Erie on the Park /Image & Artwork: designslinger]

By the time Lagrange and company appeared on the scene the old industrial area was already undergoing a transformation. Former industrial buildings had been converted into residential lofts, new apartment/condo buildings were sprouting up to the east, and when the last remnants of the old rail lines were removed a valuable, vacant, parallelogramed parcel of land emerged. The angle of the exterior walls were shaped by the site, but by moving some of the building's structural bracing from the interior to the exterior, the design team not only created wide-open floor plates but also a diagonal pattern that many people find reminiscent of the nearby John Hancock tower. Plus the plan provided some lucky penthouse residents with great balconies and spectacular views of the city. A view that was enhanced when the City of Chicago and the Park District purchased a 3-acre piece of land on the south side of the street, directly across the from 510 W. Erie Street, now Erie on the Park.