Due to considerable buzz from numerous other blogs on St. Louis architecture, I learned of the impending demolition of a unique ensemble of buildings at the corner of St. Louis Ave and Glasgow Ave in the JeffVanderLou (I hate that name with a passion) neighborhood. Here is a
bird's eye view of the intersection before demolition began. The intersection's bizarre angles seem to be the product of the cobbling together of separate additions to the city that had been developed privately with little regard to matching up perfectly.
St. Louis Ave is an example of a street that planners "made" out of several old streets.
I was under the impression that all of the buildings on the southeast corner were doomed, but when I arrived on Saturday afternoon, the Italianate corner store was still standing, albeit with all of its windows smashed out and lying in jagged pieces all over the entire corner, with little regard to the safety of children in the area.
In the picture below, the outline of the two devastated neighbors of the corner store survive; the ground has been carefully smoothed and covered with hay--like any grass is going to grow in January. Apparently the corner store is safe for the time being, though it seems to have received immense shock when the attached buildings were knocked down, as evidenced in the shattered windows.
The side of the store building, facing Glasgow Ave, is unadorned, but I can only imagine the amount of light that must have shone into the interior of this building when it was occupied by perhaps the owner of the store below.
The back staircase is a perfect example of building with untreated wood; the support post has literally twisted 360 degrees around and it no longer attached to its footing on the ground. My parents were particularly impressed with the precarious decay of the stairs that seem to be holding on by a thread.
Back to the Italianate detail of the front, public side of the store. The building displays beautiful cast iron elements, such as this well preserved, stylized Ionic column that anchors the corner of the building.
Below is the cornice of the building--which unlike many examples that are slathered in 12+ layers of paint--that appears to be largely untouched by later painting; the details on the pressed tin are crisp and easily readable.
The windows, now missing their sashes, exhibit the fine proportions of Italianate buildings in America, allowing large amounts of light to stream into the building.
On the northeast corner of the same intersection sits a unique storefront that sits on a triangular lot. The building is an excellent example of how to fill a small, irregular lot. It is slighly damaged, and is rather mysteriously missing a rectangular section of masonry between the two upstairs windows.
The next door neighbor, apparently built earlier than the triangular store, is a wonderful Italianate townhouse that looks pretty much abandoned, but not beyond repair. One has to wonder if the owner of the townhouse was not too thrilled to have the storefront go into the lot next to it. Perhaps the house had already become a boarding house by then.
The western corners of the intersection return to larger lots with townhouses and single family homes. The northwest corner is very well preserved, with all of its houses occupied legally.
The southwest corner still has an Italianate rowhouse, but it appears to be abandoned.
I did a little research, and have determined that the Butler Brothers were some sort of whole-sale company that led to the founding of the Ben Franklin nickel and dime stores. It was founded by Edward Butler whose biography is here. I also found this old New York Times article about the company.
The building was either a warehouse (there are loading docks out back), or was an actual department store. I don't know for sure. Here is the Butler Brothers warehouse in Chicago for comparison. The cornice of the building features some wonderful lion heads.
Like many turn of the century commercial buildings, the Butler Brothers is divided into three registers: the lower street level, the large central portion, and the more ornate cornice story on top.
Here is a detail of the transition from the ground level to the middle level.
The picture below illustrates the massive, formal front entrance on 18th Street alluded to on the sign. It is severe in character and not ornate like many downtown department stores.
Below is the transition from the main, colossal order pilasters interspersed with windows and the cornice level.
Here is a closer look at the ornate corner, which appears to be made of terracotta. I have a feeling from the neighborhood and the architecture of the building that it was probably a warehouse for distributing goods out to stores or mail orders.
Here is a bird's eye view of the building, which is located in the West Locust area. Hey, and if you're looking for a gigantic, city block sized building, check out the brochure.
