MY QUEST FOR THE PERFECT ARTS & CRAFTS BUNGALOW

I'm on a bit of a quest, the perfect Arts and Crafts bungalow for relocation.
These photos are from the 4100 block of Utah. I've been watching this block for some time: all single family homes and quick access to McDonald Park.

First choice, right across from McDonald Park:



Love this:

INDUSTRIAL BUILDING MID TOWN

I don't want to believe that was the original design. Bricked up arched windows?
I simply must ask Dave Lewis 'sup with this...

Dave responds:
Prolly not windows, since they would be almost in the parapet wall. More likely a design element that reduces the weight of the wall that hangs beyond the part of the wall that's supported all the way down. It reduces the weight on the lintel over the openings. It looks like a column was added (new brick) somewhere along the way.

GEOMETRIC BRICK!

Here's a recent score that I came across while motoring through an industrial area just north of Manchester. Check out how the mortar mix slipped into the small edges of the brick. I love that.

This photo is of the sill of the building where soot and dirt has gathered and defined the design:

ASH PITS

We (as every house in the city) had an ash pit on the back lot of our house at 3964 McDonald. They were used to burn household rubbish and garbage.

Once that was outlawed (along with burning leaves which was tragic, the smell was wonderful and announced autumn) People took sledge hammers to the pits and opened the side facing the alley. The resulting platform became a staging area for aluminum trash cans.

The cans (subjected to rats ad other vermin) were replaced by the dumpsters in the late 70's.

I do encourage everyone to have the experience of smelling burning leaves, just a couple.


Here's Beau, hot on the trail of a scent:

BLACK IS GETTING BLACKER

Did you hear about Blacker than Black on NPR?
If not, click on the title above.

Presenting glazed matte black brick.
This makes life even more supreme!

ACTION BRICKS!

These are my most favorite bricks in the whole wide world and I'm in brick heaven.
I'm calling them Action Bricks because they evoke the work of action painter, Jackson Pollack.

Revel in the fancy brick work on this factory building, oh mama!

Turned on corners:

Each brick is unique:

NOBODIES HOME PART TWO

Abandoned wasp nest pretending to be an incoming meteorite.

Not a wasp nest but wannbe rock.

MUM'S THE WORD

I first saw this billboard on Morgan Ford Road. It's since migrated to Natural Bridge in north city.

Lawyer up, dude and you'll get corporate logo branding via the black cap.
I find this extremely offensive.

WAVY GRAVY

I suppose I could embrace all face brick with glee but these glazed bricks are increasingly troubling. I like a rough surface be it pocked, pleated, smeared, whatever. Smooth bricks are beginning to give me the willies.

Consider them snubbed but I will continue to document them out of respect for their family.


I simply adore the rare address in the limestone!

This surface crumbling of glazed brick is becoming rampant and not just in TGS.

REAR WINDOW

Rare, but there's a few in the neighborhood: Homes built on the rear of the Lot. Sometimes these were built so the residents could live in them while the Big House was being built up front. I doubt that's the case here since the sidewalk looks original and runs straight back.

View from alley

MY FRIEND THE WITCH DOCTOR

What you see here is what I have referred to for decades as catholic voodoo. It's the cross from a rosary that reads, I am a Catholic in case of an accident notify a priest.

I bought it in a thrift store about 15 years ago just for the blue crystal beads and silver filigree stampings. A woman standing next to me at the counter asked me if I was a Catholic. I told her I was going to use the beads for jewelry.

That's sacrilegious, she exclaimed.
You're being superstitious, I told her.

Oh crap, my face is reflected in the top of the cross, there's NO escape!

I am an atheist in case of an accident notify a doctor.

Back to Granite City

Granite city is both depressing and exciting.

It's a small town where the only career choice appears to be cashier. Gas is twenty cents higher than in St. Louis. Dollar stores at every corner.

Some of the older buildings have been demolished including an old hotel that was no longer being used. The only new construction I've seen there in a decades is the landfill and subsidized housing. The city's main drag is a six block long strip mall.

Closed YMCA:


Sponge brick:

Large pebble mortar brick.


Decorative terra cotta surrounding doorway.

Bet you a hundred clams that this mosaic tile facade isn't original to the building. I cringe to think it may have been vitrolite.


Lisa's Diner. Hell no, I didn't go in.


Killer storefront with deep red vitrolite (and reflected clouds)

Shredded awnings on the abandoned building:


Love this brickwork that looks as if it's a perforated line:
Dusty two family


There's a layer of dusty film over everything in Granite City due to the steel mill. The whole city is a smudge like walking through an ash tray.
Facade of the Granite City library:

HOME SWEET HOME

Or was it?

This photo was taken in front of the first (and last) home my grandfather Busch bought.

Photo by William (or Wilheim) Busch, a creepy and arrogant man who who left Germany shortly after WW1 (he was a topographer with Baron Von Richthofen), came to the States and landed in Springfield, IL where he met my grandmother, Ruth Steelman.

He seduced her on the floor of her parents living room and she became pregnant. Reluctant to marry he literally ran off with a visiting circus, was located, and my 80 year old aunt divulged a shotgun may have been involved during the wedding.

My mother had a photo of Wilheim with his flying squad. He had written the names of his cronies in white ink over their chest. Rudolf Hess was on one side, Hermann Goering on the other (I was never been able to locate that photo after my mother's death.) Because of the photo and the way he treated all three of his children, his children and grandchildren have always referred to him as the Nazi.

The Nazi molested all three of his children (one boy, two girls) and my two sisters (gratefully, I was spared and not left alone with him). His son did the same to some (unrelated) younger girls when he was an adult.

The small elderly women in this photo is his mother, Emma Kilter. She gave birth to Wilheim when she was 16 in Bonn Germany. No one knew who his father was or the circumstances of his conception. Emma Kilter owned an antique store in Great Neck Long Island.

The two babes in the photo are my aunt and mother (their mother is peeking out between them). Since they had been raised during the Depression the coral color dress my Mom is wearing (along with that box purse) remained in our home for decades.

Next to my mother is my father sporting a massive pompadour and holding me. We are the only two people in this group who are not smiling. This may have been due to our close proximity to each other.

This house was on Solar Lane.
From what I understand it was really the dark side of the sun.
`
I miss my Mother.
Her most important lesson: Do what you want to do and not what you think you should do.

She's a brick house
The lady's stacked and that's a fact,
ain't holding nothing back. - Lionel Richie

I WOULD TOUCH THAT W/ A TEN FOOT POLE

We've a variety of colossally cool columns here in Tower Grove South and now that it's getting warmer I will continue the tour.

Meanwhile, feast your eyes on these prime numbers.

Tapered brick (and props for the shape of the bush!)


Fabulous stone:

Here's my most favorite:

RED AWNINGS

One of the ways you can tell if a building was built prior to 1920 is if the window frames are arched and not flat. You tell me why.

I simply adore this two family building on 41 Hartford and not just because of the cornice but that limestone foundation is dreamy. I'm sorry it will be eventually obscured by the bushes.

Bushes and trees close to a brick building is always a bad notion. Let the brick breathe.

I always relish is the reflection of sky and trees in windows:

That's one killer cornice.