St. Louis architecture unintentionally made national headlines, during the summer of 2020, after a brazen couple postured against a group of trespassers, on the lawn of their 1911 palazzo (Photo 1). The two brandished firearms, threatening those who ventured down the seldom visited street of Portland Place. Their 20,000 square foot, Renaissance revival home, served as the backdrop for a clash of worlds that remain separated by only four blocks. The event gave the country a glimpse of the grandeur hidden away in St. Louis streets, showcasing the city's turn of the century style. In this essay I’ll reveal how they became neighbors, tracing the cultural gulf between the two classes back nearly two-hundred years.
In the summer of 1673, Father Marquette and his companion, Joliet, paddled down the Mississippi from their Mission Station near the source of the river. Nine years later Rovers La Salle followed the Mississippi down to its mouth, claiming possession of the whole region, in the name of his King, Louis XIV of France. The first permanent settlement, west of the Mississippi River, wasn't established until 1735 at Saint Genevieve. From there, collections of frontier homes, which dotted the river’s banks, gained municipal status; St. Louis in 1764, Florissant in 1776, and St. Charles in 1784. The endless frontier provided virgin space and resources which were gathered and shipped downstream to the port of New Orleans. The Mississippi River funneled all of the newly accessed resources, from the northern Great Lakes and as far west as Denver. At the confluence of the Missouri, Illinois, & Mississippi River sat St. Louis, which served as a central hub for the quickly developing frontier. This continued for the next hundred years, supplying the people of the region with financial security, encouraging a laissez faire attitude we still hold today. John F. Darby commented on our relaxed position in 1823: “The inhabitants of St. Louis were beyond doubt the happiest and contented people that ever lived. They believed in enjoying life. There was a fiddle in every house, and a dance somewhere every night. They were honest, hospitable, confiding, and generous. No man locked his door at night and the inhabitant slept in security.” American and Europeans alike flocked to the lush river valley in search of mercantile and to serve the growing community. The convergence of the three rivers echoed the biblical story of the Garden of Eden. The garden is said to be the confluence of four major rivers, which provided the necessary nutrients to sustain the most mythical region in human history. Missouri officially joined the United States in 1821 with a population of 66,607, St. Louis approximated 5,000 citizens. In only ten years the state’s population quadrupled. Many of the inhabitants were Irish and German immigrants who brought their traditions and religions with them, together they constructed the Old Catholic Cathedral (Photo 2), completed in 1834, on the riverfront which remains standing today. Its Neoclassical architectural style was in high fashion at the time. The columns and triangular pediment at its entrance reflect those which adorn the front of both the U.S. Capitol building and The White House, both were completed just a few years before the cathedral. The United States, being the first representative democracy in two thousand years, heralded a new found hope for individual liberty, not seen since antiquity. The U.S. capital was to serve as a new Athens and its architecture was reflective of this noble pursuit. The structures of this time contained many of the motifs found in ancient Greece and Rome. Neoclassical buildings are highly symmetrical, typically having two axes, their columns diminish those who walk through them and provide a sense of awe and confidence in the ideas the structure intends to embody. Banks are often stylized this way to provide security to those who trust their life’s earnings to the institution. These notions were held across the continent as the burgeoning nation defined its own ideals. Mid-century, European immigrants flooded the United States, fleeing religious persecution, crop failure, and famine. They brought the architecture of their homeland with them, and what followed was a series of Romantic revivalist movements, the most common being Gothic revival, showcased by St. Patrick’s cathedral in New York City. The style served as a response to the Neoclassical style, now perceived as callous and unemotional due to its limited ornamentation. The Romantic movement began in Europe with a renewed religious and nationalist fervor, leading to England, Germany, and France each claiming their nation as the birthplace of the style. The most popular novel at the time, Victor Hugo’s, Hunchback of Notre Dame, used the 12th century cathedral as its focal point and established France as a major player in the movement’s success. The focus of the style was to glorify Christian values, every line pointed up toward heaven, the fine details in its ornamentation encouraged individual craftsmen to put one’s whole effort into their work. Those that looked upon gothic architecture are inspired for opposite reasons found in neoclassicism, the solidity perceived in dominating columns was replaced by towering precipices of steeply pitched roofs and crowning gables. At the height of domestic American unrest, caused by the abolitionist movement of the 1850’s, many incorporated gothic architecture in homes (Photo 3) and churches to represent the combination of orderly, classical ideals, that appeal to the intellect and fanciful, romantic ideals, which appeal to the emotions. With the ensuing war, the style went on to become an embodiment of the evil struggle that had taken place, a forgotten home on a distant hilltop, remembered as a dark memory of our nation’s past. The Civil War began in 1861, and particularly affected Missouri due to the split nature of the state during the conflict. North nor South wished to trade with the divided state, the Mississippi River which tied the north and south together, along the western frontier, had all but dried up. In an effort to codify the nation after the Civil War, the federal government planned to connect existing railroad infrastructure in the east to those out west, with the Transcontinental Railroad. When the project was completed in 1869, these railroads stripped much of the dependency from river boat traffic allowing Kansas City and Chicago to boom financially. Commerce was no longer making it from the Great Lakes to the Gulf of Mexico; the economic development of St. Louis and the rest of the state was severely retarded, while providing a particular environment for the cultural enrichment of the frontier. The Civil War placed Missouri into a distinctive position in the development of the west. In our state, North and East met with South and West, at the borderland of civilization in the Americas. The deeply contrasting lifestyles combined to create a unique leadership style which helped incorporate states that had recently joined the Union. Another byproduct of the conflicts was the rapid industrialization of the United States. New railroads throughout the nation meant materials became cheaper and more accessible to the common citizen, what resulted was an explosion of revivalist architecture that evolved through the Gilded Age and into the 20th century. This period in American architecture is known as Historicism, and was evidence of a general longing for the peace and slow pace of life of pre-Civil War America that we've never recovered. Industrialization allowed for machine made products to be mass produced, lumber could be made cheaply which allowed time for more details to be incorporated in new buildings. In 1832, innovations in construction design, called ‘balloon framing’, meant the amount of material needed to erect homes was vastly reduced. This is the origin of the modern 2x4 and 16 - 24 inch stud spacing. Additionally, balloon framing introduced a standard model for home construction, in the same way the recently developed ‘assembly line’ expedited manufacturing. Structures that were commonly made of wood, such as homes, schools, or hotels, revealed their trusswork and became colloquial known as American Stick Style (Photo 4). Vertical, horizontal, and diagonal boards create elaborate patterns on the facade, however, if you look past these surface details, a stick style house is relatively plain. The footprint of structures at this time grew larger, providing space for indoor plumbing that had been, until now, unavailable to the average American. However, with increased commercialization of building supplies, the quality of these construction materials rapidly diminished. One major drawback of these new construction styles was the threat of fires, the interior space of walls allowed for a fire, which started in the basement, to travel to the top floors of a structure unencumbered, trapping its occupants inside. Homes at this time were still heated using wood and coal stoves, making this threat a real concern. In 1849, St. Louis fell victim to a fire which destroyed a significant portion of the city, this coincided with a severe cholera outbreak; nearly ten percent of the city’s population died as a result of the collapsed infrastructure. This led to the implementation of a number of building codes that demanded new structures to be built using brick or stone, and the development of a new water and sewer system to help contain future outbreaks. Historicist architecture can be further broken down into a number of sub-genre, including, Victorian, Mansard, and most importantly, Richardsonian Romanesque, which revitalized the use of masonry and brick in the United States. Henry Hobson Richardson was the most prominent architect of the late 19th century, until his death at age 47, in 1886. He rejected the rapidly deteriorating quality of machine-made building supplies and encouraged the fine work of craftsmen, reminiscent of the neo-romantic works of earlier. While Richardson himself did not design any buildings for the St. Louis region, it is difficult to find structures, built in the late 19th century, that didn’t include a number of his trademark motifs (Photo 5). The recent city fire essentially made this new style into law. Rundbogenstil, which translates to ‘round arch style’, was not only Romanesque Revival, but rather a combination of several different European styles that all used the Roman rounded arch, the most prominent example of which can be found downtown, at the Anheuser-Busch Brewery (Photo 6), built in 1879. At this point, St. Louis was the Silicon Valley of the Gilded Age, entrepreneur and artist alike flocked to the Gateway City to embellish the future with their own perspective and flair. Industry in the region recovered from its post-Civil War recession, and the approaching new century was received optimistically by the hands of inspired, young architects. New foundry techniques replaced brittle cast iron and malleable wrought iron with carbon steel, which allowed for stronger, taller buildings to populate our city centers that were quickly diminishing in available space; instead of building out, they built up. Metal frames replaced load bearing stone walls, and the invention of the elevator, in 1853, meant heights could be reached in access of five floors. This took place across the nation in industrial urban centers such as Chicago, New York, and St. Louis. The Home Insurance Building, constructed in 1885, is widely considered to be the first skyscraper. Formerly located in downtown Chicago, the building stood ten stories high, and weighed one-third that of a similar structure which used traditional masonry techniques. Its iron skeleton allowed for a thin stone facade, allowing space for large windows; city officials were shocked by the departure from tradition and halted its construction repeatedly to ensure the populace of its structural integrity. Artistically it remained unfinished, lacking much of the ornamentation expected of buildings that size at the time. The Wainwright Building (Photo 7), completed in 1891, located in downtown St. Louis, is nationally recognized as the first fully aesthetically expressed skyscraper. Its style incorporates a tripartite system found in the architecture of antiquity while remaining wholly focused on the future. A cornice, above the second floor, defines the lower third from eight identical stories of recessed windows, and is crowned by a wide frieze of celery-leaf filigree with bulls-eye windows, beneath a deep cornice. Upon its completion, the building was nationally celebrated, architect Frank Lloyd Wright dubbed it "the very first human expression of a tall steel office-building as Architecture.” Listed as one of the ten buildings that changed America, in 2013, it proved to be the model for artistic urbanization in our nation through the early 20th century. American citizens took a renewed interest in quality construction again, birthing the American Craftsman, or Arts & Crafts style home, which showcased natural materials, recognized skilled labor, and marked the end of an overdependence on machined goods. Homes were built with the comfort of the occupant in mind, floor plans were designed practically, and faux-historic qualities found in Victorian homes were removed. Low pitched roofs, exposed rafters, and shingled roofs invited homeowners into the architectural process. Homeowners were encouraged to either improve their existing space or construct a home from scratch using ready made, commercial products, such as the Sears mail order home. In 1904, the world descended on St. Louis as the city hosted the Louisiana Purchase Exposition, now known as the World’s Fair. This event crowned St. Louis, America’s fourth largest city, as the cultural epicenter for the western world, and savored the remaining success of the American Gilded Age. The city received gifts such as the Jefferson Memorial Hall, the main entrance to the exposition, and a colossal bronze statue of Saint Louis, now placed in front of the St. Louis Art Museum, which commemorates the event that took place on the 1,300 acre expanse of Forest Park. The opulence produced during the late 19th century came to an end with passing of necessary economic reform, new taxes and social spending gave a majority of Americans a better life and the opportunity to own a house of their own. The elite fled the now demolished Vandeventer Place, and constructed new privately owned streets, Westmoreland & Portland Place just north of Forest Park. Their seclusion didn't last, increased mobility, with the introduction of the car and tram systems, took families out of downtown areas. Coal powered factories ruined the quality of life of downtown areas, those able to, took their ‘flight from blight’, and built homes of their own on the city’s outskirts. Rows of homes, nicknamed ‘American four squares’ (Photo 8), in the Arts & Crafts style, were constructed in every direction, radiating from the city center. The Shaw neighborhood, surrounding Tower Grove Park, Wellston, and Bevo Mill, to name a few, welcomed American and immigrant families alike, establishing America’s first generation of middle-class suburbs. This same practice took place across America, massively improving the lives of those burdened by the economic malpractice of the Gilded Age, but created problems of its own in the process. Did the Arts & Crafts movement remain faithful to its origins? There has been a hundred years of architectural advancement since the World’s Fair, and each decade since has come with its own logic and philosophies, which correspond to the form and function of its structures. The first of which, Prairie Style, was championed by Frank Lloyd Wright, while its intentions were noble and the work completed is remarkable, it set in motion a series of architectural abominations. Hegel defines architecture as man's escape from nature, the teepee or lean-to, was a recognition by primitive man that the materials of this world can be molded to suit our needs. Until the 20th century, mankind remained in constant struggle with nature, the ornate facades of neoclassic cathedrals and their maximalist interiors were a rejection of our animal origins. However, with the continued use of formal science and pragmatic economics, the Industrial Revolution firmly supplanted the human capacity to conquer the material world. In Wright’s view, we had gone too far in removing ourselves from nature. His focus was to blur the lines between the interior and exterior, to selectively incorporate what humanity had lost in this ongoing struggle, in new and interesting ways. One such innovation was the use of a floating cantilever, a technique which seemingly defined physics. Walls were no longer required to provide support for a building, this allowed windows or negative space to bring the environment into the interior (Photo 9). This technique echoed those used in our first skyscrapers, as stronger materials opened the doors to a new century of home design. For many of us in the 21st century the gimmick has grown stale, a hundred years of modern architecture has brought us back the problems Wright was originally challenged with. We’ve devalued labor for so long that no skilled craftsmen are alive to impart their knowledge on a new generation of architects. This is made apparent by our total lack of recognition of master architects today. Additionally, we have fallen into the unmitigated commercialization faced during the Gilded Age, which has put traditional construction techniques economically out of reach for even our elite. We are left to celebrate the same tired works of Wright and not much else. How can we? The works of today’s architects no longer outlive the designer, structures have become a time/cost analysis, and are only meant to live the length of its mortgage. Although I've used the two terms interchangeably in this essay, I want to make a distinction between architecture and a building. Architecture acknowledges the mental quality of a structure, it intentionally indicates how we think, move, and relax within its space, it is everything beyond which is materially useful, afterwich ‘beauty’ enters incidentally. A building relies on its function to define its form, shipping containers are akin to wasp nests, between these two poles is a spectrum of structures that are reflective of the attitudes and ideals held by those that construct them. A work of art strives for mastery over the material and creates for creation’s sake, all other labor is proof of our enslavement to the material body. Pre-modern architecture served our civic duty to enhance the environment for the benefit of our children. Now, we can neither accept the vision of a single person, nor collectivize to create works that inspire future generations. City centers are one of the few things available to the entire community, rich and poor, dumb and intelligent alike, it's a shared space that outlasts its designers, and serves as a passive instruction manual for those to come. Our modern buildings feel sterile and artificial. To many, a historic brick structure provides a sense of comfort but can this be explained without becoming nostalgic? The age of a building is visually apparent even if it's only recognized by our subconscious. New or recently cleaned brick structures are unsettling, the physical and chemical weathering a structure undergoes allows us to place it within our timeframe of understanding. For example, important institutions, such as city hall or a library, constructed from masonry, provide a sense of solidity in the ideas contained within its walls; the ivy creeping up its sides relate to our biological selves, and prove the institution will live beyond ourselves. Today’s structures seem to deteriorate at the mere thought of belonging to our earthly world. We see ourselves as a reflection of these artificial spaces, planned, predictable beings, available for consumption. The choice of materials in architecture directly impacts our senses, cedar can provide a peppery spice to the nose, its grain mimics the fingerprints that embrace it, and footsteps drum a rhythm to those who share the space, all of which is absent in an artificial box. Modern buildings use form and color to represent its dominance over nature by using physical and visual separation, its interior favors aesthetics over the comfort of the occupant. The once novel cantilever and steel skeleton now make up nearly every modern structure, defying the laws of physics man has been demanded to obey, this causes an apparent physical imbalance, nauseating those on the 70th floor of a New York City skyscraper or at your local McDonalds (Photo 10). The square footage we expect has outgrown our capacity to produce the necessary materials. McMansions grasp at every design feature to add interest to its blank exteriors, by reducing our architecture to a simple commercial enterprise it allows no space for ornamentation or detail. Architectural virtue is expressed by the details laid down by individual craftsmen, not only the planning or form of the structure. In these details the craftsmen build a memory of their presence that outlives them. Combined these efforts intend to enrich the lives of those who inhabit the space. Where are the civics? As evil as the robber barons of the Gilded Age are made out to be, they were at least civically minded. Andrew Carnegie published The Gospel of Wealth, in 1889, in an effort to encourage philanthropy amongst his peers, claiming the man who leaves behind millions after his death, will pass away “unwept, unhonored, and unsung.” Regardless of where he places his funds, for a man to die wealthy is to die disgraced. While he was hesitant to directly benefit his employees through increased wages, he worried the poor would become indulgent in their new found wealth, but recognized the need for community improvement. “The best means of benefiting the community is to place within its reach the ladders upon which the aspiring can rise; parks, and means of recreation, by which men are helped in body and mind; works of art, certain to give pleasure and improve the public taste, and public institutions of various kinds, which will improve the general condition of the people; in this manner returning their surplus wealth to the mass of their fellows in the forms best calculated to do them lasting good.” Today’s robber barons are dorks, unable to see the lasting impact they have the capacity to create. I would rather be ruled by those with a sense of taste instead of recluses who amassed their wealth by capturing the means of broadcasting. The elite of the past produced material goods, not digits on a screen and used their wealth to found universities, libraries and other civic centers, which passively benefit us all. Instead our urban centers waste away as the world becomes increasingly atomized and online. North St. Louis has decomposed into an architectural wasteland, the once thriving Gilded Age empire has collapsed into ruin. American citizens should be forced to tour its forgotten neighborhoods, the same way German civilians toured concentration camps after the fall of the Nazi regime. As a nation we must confront the atrocities we’re complicit in, witness the remains of our grandeur at the height of our success, not for the sake of architectural enhancement, but to rescue the people we have left exiled and abandoned.
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Zachary MatthewsLiving among the ruins of a Gilded Age empire Archives
April 2023
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