Tag Archives: design

Brick-ended Houses

There are several houses in Salem which have brick sides or ends, even though the majority of the house is constructed of wooden clapboards.  Sometimes there is brick on each end of the house, sometimes on the front facade, sometimes along a rear wall.  I’ve always found the aesthetics of the brick and clapboard combination very pleasing, but never took the time to wonder about the utilitarian reasons behind the design.  The buildings below were all built between 1805 and 1820, in the central residential and commercial districts of an increasingly congested town.  The first two are located on lower Essex Street, Salem’s main street then and now, and the latter two are situated off Derby Street in the (then busy) Wharf area and on more residential Federal Street, respectively.

As these houses were built concurrently with and just after Chestnut Street, with its grand display of brick merchants’ mansions, I thought perhaps there might be a socio-economic explanation for these single brick walls:  showing a bit of brick to keep up with the China Trade Joneses.  However, the architects and preservationists whom I’ve consulted say it’s all about fire prevention.  And as you can see from the pictures above, the brick side is generally built around the chimney and proximate to another building.  It’s hard to imagine the constant danger of fire in these mostly wooden, clustered towns; in the same decade that these buildings were built, there were devastating fires just up the coast in Newburyport, Massachusetts, (1811)  and Portsmouth, New Hampshire, seaport cities very similar to Salem.  Portsmouth actually experienced three terrible fires in the first decades of the nineteenth century:  in 1802 (see below), 1806, and 1813–this last fire destroyed over 270 buildings.  With only a bucket brigade and a rudimentary hand-pumped water pump to protect them, it is easy to see why Salem’s householders might have put up a brick wall or two.

Wharves destroyed in the 1811 Newburyport Fire, Custom House Maritime Museum


Hand-drawn Houses

If hand-drawn architectural sketches and renderings are on the verge of becoming a lost art in this age of Autocad, then I would imagine that they would increase in value exponentially in the coming decades.  My husband-the-architect can draw beautifully, as can lots of other architects that we know (Salem seems to be a magnet for architects) but they are all in their 40s:  are they the last generation of sketching architects?  While searching for some information about a Boston architect named Arthur Little who studied, sketched, and worked in Salem, I came across a periodical entitled The American Architect and Building News which was packed with amazing illustrations over its relatively short (1876-1908) life.  I think I’m next-to-last in a long list of  bloggers who have discovered this resource (and I’m sure it must be a key primary source for architectural historians), but I’m still going to showcase some of my favorite illustrations. 

The American Architect was published every Saturday by a series of Boston publishers.  It was first and foremost a trade publication, containing industry news and notices, classified as “Building Intelligence”, as well as plans, sketches, and photographs of newly-commissioned and -built structures.  Its scope was national, even international, but there are lots of Boston-area buildings given its place of publication.  This was the gilded age, and elaborate summer cottages were given pride of placement.  It was also an age of the emerging Colonial Revival style, and so architects like Little looked for inspiration for their new houses in the old colonial towns, like Salem.  Below are some detail drawings of the very inspirational Peirce-Nichols house from several 1886 issues of The American Architect and a contemporary phot0graph of the house.

Some illustrations from issues of The American Architect published in 1884, including sketches of  a “cottage” in Manchester-by-the-Sea, Massachusetts, the Ames Building in Boston (the city’s first “skyscraper”)  by H.H. Richardson, a facade and details of a house in Scotland, and a Queen Anne-style house in Pittsburgh:

More details from an old Salem houses,  drawn by Frank W. Wallis (who did the Peirce Nichols house sketches above), from an 1886 issue of The American Architect, and comparative cornices and door hardware from 1889 issues:

No detail was too small for The American Architect and Building News.  Given the era, there are also lots of technical drawings, for plumbing and “sanitation”, electrical wiring, fire prevention (the goal was a “slow-burning house”), and studies of shade and shadows.  The work of draftsmen like E. Eldon Deane (whose sketches are above) set an artistic standard for the magazine which even extended to advertisements like the one from Cabot below. 

A sprawling summer cottage in Dublin, New Hampshire and exterior and interior sketches for an urban residence, from 1889:

The publishers of American Architect clearly realized the value of  their drawings and published several portfolio volumes of single sheet prints like the 12-series “Georgian Period” below, currently on sale for $5000 here.   Individual colored prints, like the dining room of the Emmerton House in Salem and the “morning room” of  a house in Boston’s  Back Bay, both drawn by Arthur Little, were also produced, an acknowledgement that the architect, was, in fact, an artist.


The Key to……..

This was a week of keys; I lost a key (temporarily), got a new key, and seemed to be perpetually teaching about Renaissance popes who asserted their power visually by wielding big keys (to the kingdom of heaven, of course) in an age of questioning authority.  I have always liked keys, both their material existence and their symbolism.  They represent access, understanding, the revelation of secrets, possession. When I moved into my house a decade ago I found a big box of skeleton keys in the basement, far more keys that I have doors.  So I strung them up on ribbons which I hang from hooks on my back stair landing.  Of course, everyone who passes by thinks I have a key fetish so I have collected even more keys over the years.

Fifteenth-century popes seem to be in the possession of an ever-present key, symbol of their possession of jurisdiction over salvation, bequeathed to them by St. Peter.  Here are images from two mid-fifteenth century illuminated manuscripts in the British Library showing popes and their big keys:

Jumping forward into the modern era, keys have lost their religious symbolism and taken on all sorts of associations.  Here they appear on tarot cigarette cards, in illustrations from a mid-century text called Robbery as a Science (with instructions on how to pick a lock, very useful for potential burglars!) on an abolitionist envelope, in a political cartoon entitled “the key to the situation” featuring President Grover Cleveland (all from the New York Public Library Digital Gallery), and in the titles of  two popular genres of twentieth-century entertainment:  sheet music and a Clark Gable film from 1950 (Library of Congress Digital Collections).

The keys to the city custom has a history all its own, dating back to when medieval cities were independent entities that extended the “freedom of the city” to special visitors.  There are lots of references and images of early modern kings like Louis XIV entering, claiming, and receiving keys to cities (like Strasbourg below, in 1681) but obviously the modern custom represents recognition rather than possession.  Below Louis, we have presidential candidate Dwight Eisenhower receiving the keys to the city of Rock Island, Illinois from its mayor Melvin McKay in 1952 (Time-Life Photographs) and a very recent photograph from the Wall Street Journal of Ralph Lauren with his newly acquired key to the city of New York.

Below are some neat keys that I’ve had my eye on for a while:  a porcelain set made in Japan, a “steampunk clockwork magic key” textile border, and USB flashdrives, “the key to love, success and all your photos, files, and music”.  What better key for our age?


Roof Windows and Skylights

Our house is a north-facing double house so light is always in short supply.  The previous owners of the house–several of them–responded by adding what they called “roof windows” and we call skylights.  Roof windows go way back in American architecture, to the eighteenth century, when they were of course made of wood. Thomas Jefferson incorporated thirteen of them into the design of Monticello as he wanted his house to be flooded with natural light as often as possible.  There’s also a great roof window at Hamilton House in South Berwick, Maine, one of  Historic New England’s properties (an amazing house near my hometown of York; check out this great post by The Down East Dilettante for more information and photographs).

We have three roof windows:  one on each of the house’s three floors.  The first- and third-floor windows are in the back part of the house which was added on in intervals after 1860, so they are not that special.  However, the second-floor opening, which is in the original part of the (1827) house, is really interesting.  It cuts through the middle of the house and there is a ceiling window and a 12-foot beadboard light well that opens up to a second window in the roof.  Both windows are attached to and can be opened by a metal rod and a rope (though they seldom are as birds inevitably fly in and around the house).

  Two views of the roof window on the first floor, in the kitchen pantry.

  Three views of the roof window from our second floor.

.  Roof window in the third-floor back hall; more of a conventional skylight. The transom windows on this floor are another way to let in the light.

Hunting around for some images of roof windows similar to my own, I didn’t find much, or actually any.  But I can’t resist showcasing this amazing house in Newburgh, New York which was very well-documented, inside and out, by the Historic American Building Survey.  The William  C. Hasbrouck House , also known as the “Tuscan Villa” was built in 1838 and is (it seems to be still standing on Google maps, though I can only see it from above; it looks like something is happening to the roof!) very impressive, so much so that the HABS photographer Jack E. Boucher takes us all through the house, including up into the attic where we can see how a quite ordinary roof window was turned into a spectacular interior skylight.