Archive for the ‘Daniel Burnham’ Category

Happy Birthday Timothy Pflueger!

September 26, 2010

Tim Pflueger, probably 1930s, courtesy John M. Pflueger

Today, September 26, is the birthday of architect Timothy Pflueger. Since he was born in 1892, he clearly would not be alive today (it would be his 118th birthday), but I always wonder what else he would have accomplished if he had lived beyond his 54 years.  It is amazing to consider how much work he did, and how much of it is extant in San Francisco and the Bay Area, even for his rather short life, but remember he did begin his career as an office boy, around age 13 and quickly become a draftsman.

Pflueger is getting a bit of attention this autumn, thanks to the interest of many local architectural groups in his work.  San Francisco Architectural Heritage included me in their 2010 lecture series and we had a great crowd last Thursday night at their new lecture venue at Pier 1  to learn more about Pflueger’s work and times. I also got to meet their new executive director, Mike Buhler, who was most recently director of advocacy for the Los Angeles Conservancy and before that, at the western office of the National Trust of Historic Preservation. Indeed, Buhler has come out swinging in his first month on the job, as co-author (along with Anthea Hartig of the National Trust) writing a letter to the editor in the San Francisco Chronicle, a thoughtful response to yet another anti-preservationist column by C.W. Nevius, this time over the brouhaha on whether or not to save the North Beach Library.

Next month, I am giving a broader talk, “The Evolution of Art Deco in San Francisco” and will include some of Pflueger’s well-known, and not so well-known contemporaries, at the San Francisco Chapter of the American Institute of Architects, as part of the “Rediscover the City” series. Architecture buffs may want to catch some or all of them. If you are a member of the AIA, the lectures are $20 each ($25 for non-members), and $100 for the whole series of six ($125 non-members).

Also coming up is a talk in November at the Neutra House in Los Altos, as part of their 2010-2011 lecture series on Bay Area Masters that also help pay for the restoration of the house. And Pflueger is showcased in the autumn issue of Modernism Magazine in an article by yours truly called “Shaking up San Francisco’s Skyline.”

The past month has also been a feast of activity for local architecture aficionados, including a great series of films at the San Francisco Public Library, as part of the SF AIA’s “Architecture and the City Festival.” My two favorites were the documentary on Daniel Burnham, called “Make No Little Plans, Daniel Burnham and the American City” and the amazing 2009 film about John Lautner, called “Infinite Space, The Architecture of John Lautner.” Check out the trailer here. This film, plus “Visual Acoustics: The Modernism of Julius Shulman,” which I also saw at another AIA event, are both worth owning.

One of the funnest parts of the beautifully shot Lautner film was how the filmmakers managed to find a group of Lautner-obsessed architecture students in Holland who were planning a trip to Los Angeles, and doing searches using Google Earth for Lautner homes, some of which can be spotted by their unusual roofs. The students and their obsession reminded me of some of the things my passionate architectural historian friends and I do in our detecting work.  Another element that enhanced the film was audio of  Lautner, who gave a lecture at the AIA late in his career, and they were able to frequently use snippets as voice overs, talking about his philosophy.

Guerrero Street, circa 1920s (Pflueger home partially blocked), Patrick Ruane, plasterer, on the right, courtesy Bernadette Hooper

One memorable line from the Lautner film  was something that I think applies to some of the world’s best architects. Lautner said in his talk, “That’s the essence of it. My whole life is devoted to architecture and that’s what I live on.” Many people wonder why Pflueger never designed his own home and lived the bulk of his life in the plain family home at 1015 Guerrero Street. I think Lautner’s comment says it all.

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Searching for Louis Sullivan

June 19, 2010

Adler & Sullivan's Auditorium Building in Chicago

Attendees of the American Institute of Architects convention last week in Miami were lucky enough to have a chance to see a new documentary on architect Louis Sullivan. The film, in the works since 2007, is called “Louis Sullivan: the Struggle for American Architecture.” The film seeks to present Sullivan as “an artist who never felt completely comfortable in either the vanishing world of 19th-century romanticism or the unsentimental and mechanized one of the twentieth century.”

Auditorium Building, now Roosevelt University, Chicago

Watching the trailer makes one realize the power of film and sound versus pen and paper, camera and keyboard when documenting, reporting on or critiquing architecture. The sweeping camera angles lovingly caress both Sullivan’s remaining and demolished work. Set to a piece by Philip Glass from the movie, “The Hours,” the trailer alone may bring you to tears, even just watching on YouTube, as you realize how much of his work has been destroyed. It looks like an incredibly moving film and I hope it makes its way to San Francisco.

Director Mark Richard Smith became interested in Sullivan’s work when he moved to Chicago to pursue a graduate degree in history at Loyola University. The Chicago Tribune wrote that the film relies heavily on the photographs of Richard Nickel, the photographer and preservationist who died while getting ornament and artifacts from the Chicago Stock Exchange during its demolition. The building collapsed beneath Nickel, as he was trying to record it for posterity.  Ultimately, the final version didn’t use Nickel’s photos, but the filmmaker did film most of his extant buildings in the Midwest and the East Coast.

Auditorium, interior, Chicago

On a trip last year to Chicago, I had the privilege to speak about architect Timothy Pflueger to the Chicago Art Deco Society in the Auditorium Building, the work that propelled the firm of Adler & Sullivan to notoriety. While visiting, I realized the travesty of how little of Sullivan’s work survives in his adopted home. The Carson Pirie Scott Department Store, now restored and called Sullivan Center and the Auditorium, and the Charnley House were the more notable structures I found. There are several homes and other lesser-known buildings, a list of which can be found here at the Chicago Art Institute, the current home of the reconstructed trading room from the Chicago Stock Exchange. It’s about time that Sullivan — who ranks with Frank Lloyd Wright as one of America’s greatest architects — got more attention. As the Tribune wrote, “Louis Sullivan gets his due.”

Smith has submitted his film to the Mill Valley Film Festival, so hopefully the documentary will come here later this year.

Sullivan never worked in the Bay Area, but even so, it is possible to find both his influence, and that of the other architects of the vibrant Chicago School, all of whom were influenced early on by Henry Hobson Richardson and his interpretation of the Romanesque. The Auditorium Building in Chicago is an example of the heavy masonry and arches depicted in Richardson’s Romanesque style, also found in two San Francisco buildings of the era. The Auditorium also includes examples of organic ornament and craftsmanship espoused by Sullivan, a concept he also engrained into the firm’s chief draftsman, Frank Lloyd Wright. Its construction was also a tribute to the engineering ingenuity of Dankmar Adler, who designed a massive floating foundation to support the heavy structure in soft Chicago soil.

Mills Building, column detail

One local example of the Chicago School with flashes of Sullivan, is the Mills Building at 220 Montgomery. The original 10-story office building was one of two local projects designed by partners Daniel Burnham and John Wellborn Root. The other is the De Young Building, the first iron and steel-frame skyscraper in San Francisco, on Market and Kearny, its sandstone restored after being hidden for decades by ugly metal cladding. It is now the Ritz-Carlton Residences.

Mills Building, San Francisco, Library of Congress, Print and Photographs Collection

Mills Building, layered arches, detailed view

It’s easy to see the influence of both Richardson and Sullivan in the building designed for financier Darius Mills, which took two years to build and was completed in 1893. The multi-layered marble arch that dominates the entrance evokes the sweeping, layered arches in the interior of the 1889 Auditorium Theatre, which also predicted the “Golden Door” arch in Adler & Sullivan’s Transportation Building at the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair. But as Sullivan wrote, the stunning Beaux Arts beauty of that historic fair may have enthralled Americans, yet it also set back the progress of modern American architecture.

Sullivan’s style seems to loom large in the organic swirling terracotta swans above the column capitals in the Mills Building. The arches are both Richardsonian and could be inspired by the layered arches in the Auditorium’s interior (see above). The current owners were having the Mills Building cleaned, hence, the above view in black and white is from the American Historical Building Survey. (The closeups are my attempts to avoid the scaffolding.)

Mills Building wrought iron grille

Sullivanesque ornament, row of flats, 85-93 Sanchez St, 1908

Another Sullivan inspired work is a row of flats on Sanchez St. Architectural historian extraordinaire Gary Goss points out the arches and circular ornament on this row of flats, designed by Henry Geilfuss & Son.

Sullivan and the architects of the Chicago School were the first to embrace the steel frame. Even today, Sullivan’s writings on the soaring skyscraper are often quoted. Adler & Sullivan’s Wainwright Building of 1891 in St. Louis was the first skyscraper designed to emphasize its height, a concept that became muddled after the Beaux-Arts craze swept the country following the 1893 World’s Fair. In San Francisco, like the rest of the country, architects trained in the Beaux-Arts style became the leaders. As Hugh Morrison noted in his 1935 biography of Sullivan, “The Fair had aimed a death blow at the new style which had been evident in the work of the Chicago School before 1893; Richardson and John Root were dead, Sullivan as far as the public was concerned was moribund, and Wright had yet to make his mark.”

Wainwright Building, cornice detail, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Collection

Sullivan himself was vitriolic about the influence of Chicago’s White City, as the fair buildings were called. “The virus of the World’s Fair, after a period of incubation in the architectural profession and in the population at large, especially the influential, began to show unmistakable signs of the nature of the contagion,” he wrote, as quoted by Morrison. “There came a violent outbreak of the Classic and the Renaissance in the East, which slowly spread westward, contaminating all that it touched, both at its source and outward.”

In San Francisco’s case, the ordered Beaux-Arts buildings constructed after the 1906 earthquake and fire, and some ideas from Burnham’s “City Beautiful” plan incorporated into the new Civic Center, brought a semblance of dignity that had been missing in the overwrought Victorian and neo-Gothic chaos, some of which had been characterized by outspoken architect Willis Polk as “architectural monstrosities.” It would not be until after World War I that local architects like Timothy Pflueger would eventually seek to flee the historicism  Sullivan fought so hard to escape.


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