[Last updated 2/25/23 9:12 PM PT—video embed added at bottom]
circa 1889 (Photo: Security Pacific National Bank Collection, LAPL)
Making up for lost time and missed opportunities, one adventure at a time.
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query romanesque. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query romanesque. Sort by date Show all posts
August 17, 2020
How L.A.'s 'Old' City Hall Got Reborn As a Medieval Castle for Artisans, Brick by Brick
March 09, 2020
Photo Essay: A Beacon of Banking That Got Reincarnated As a Hotel
Founded in 1889, the former San Diego Savings Bank got a new name in 1925, officially becoming San Diego Trust and Savings Bank.
In 1928, it was about to get a new home, too—its fourth in San Diego, and its most magnificent yet.
There had been just one obstacle to its construction. The Hotel Beacon was standing on the corner lot at 6th and Broadway, which SDSB had purchased in 1924.
So, the old hotel got demolished; the new 13-story bank headquarters got built as the tallest building in San Diego at the time. (It would hold that honor until 1960.)
The funny thing is, though the bank building is still there, it's no longer a financial institution—but a hotel!
It's now the Downtown/Civic Center Marriott Courtyard (and probably the nicest Marriott Courtyard anywhere).
What goes around, comes around, I guess.
Built by William Simpson Construction Company at a cost of approximately $1.4 million, the San Diego Trust and Savings Bank building is one of only three banks ever designed by master architect William Templeton Johnson. Most would probably agree it was his best.
Its "bones" are made of steel reinforced concrete, but what you see on the outside is two stories of buff-colored sandstone quarried from Briar Hall in Ohio (perhaps its first exterior use on the West Coast)...
...perched atop a base of pink granite known as Scotch Rose.
The experience of walking through the bronze revolving door of the main hotel entrance now is meant to be quite similar to when the building functioned as a bank.
The Grand Lobby is largely intact from its former financial function—the circular antique chandeliers still hanging from the hand-painted, coffered plaster ceiling (rising 32 feet in height) and surrounded by 35 marble columns topped with Corinthian capitals. In all, 19 different types of marble were quarried from several Mediterranean countries as well as other sources around the world.
The lobby in particular evokes a medieval atmosphere, as it features all the ornamentation that came into fashion in the Middle Ages—clerestory windows behind iron grilles, grand arches, medallions, and such. Much of those arise out of the Italian Romanesque Revival/Italianate Renaissance Revival architectural style (the The San Diego Union called it "Lombard-Romanesque" at the time of its opening)—less common in commercial buildings like this one and more frequently found in churches.
In addition to the banking services offered to the public (from the basement through the mezzanine levels), the building also housed offices in its upper stories...
...and its original office building entrance is still there, just beyond the massive arches of the elevator lobby, the wall paneling of Italian marble, and the floor of Tennessee marble (from Gray Eagle Quarry).
One of the original bank tables—once positioned near the teller cages for customers to fill out their paperwork and sign checks—has been relocated to the elevator lobby, with others sprinkled throughout the current hotel as well.
The original mail chute is still mounted in a recessed niche in the elevator lobby—and the post office still picks up the mail every afternoon at 1 p.m.
Behind sculptured bronze doors, hotel guests would find the most technologically advanced, high-speed elevators, which traveled at a maximum rate of 660 feet per minute—more than double most other buildings at the time.
By comparison, the first-ever commercial passenger elevator (in NYC) took a full minute to climb just 40 feet. Today's fastest elevator in the world (China's Rosewood Guangzhou, Guangzhou Chow Tai Fook Finance Centre) travels more than 4100 feet per minute.
The heavy gates leading to the Bond and Investment Service and the one-on-one meeting area still swing—though now they only separate the public from the snacks for sale and a billiard table surrounded by framed, historic photos.
You can still walk down the stairs to the basement in search of the Safe Deposit Department...
...but when you walk through the painted metal vault gates...
...which are no longer locked...
...you'll find the Safe Deposit Room...
... its original 47,000 lb, stainless steel door (manufactured by the Mosler Safe Company of Ohio, which also provided secure storage for Fort Knox) permanently in the "open" position.
Inside, the safe deposit boxes are empty, but you can still pull them out like the drawers of a cabinet of curiosities, hoping to find something secret, special, or valuable inside.
Although the bank catered to customers of all economic status (including children, who could open an account with a starting deposit of 10 cents), the safe deposit boxes attracted some pretty big-ticket valuables that shouldn't be flashed around out in the open.
Their respective owners would be ushered into tiny offices outfitted with telephones to do their business in private. The three booths are still there—but the old style phones are now push-button, and lifting the receiver directs you to the front desk.
The bank theme continues in the Vault Meeting Room...
...though the "Donsteel" security doors on display are just for show.
San Diego Trust and Savings Bank managed to stay a family business—run by descendants of the bank's co-founder and first president Joseph Weller Sefton, Sr.—until 1994, when the Sefton family decided to get out of banking and sold all 53 branches to the LA-based First Interstate Bank, which was later acquired by Wells Fargo. In 1996, Wells Fargo unloaded several of its San Diego properties and closed up shop on SDTSB.
In its heyday, the bank owned the entire building and occupied most of it—with the exception of the 7th floor's FBI offices and holding cells! (Note how the elevator eliminates the 13th floor, which was rechristened the 14th floor.)
A shooting gallery (for lady tellers to practice their aim in case of a bank robbery) shared the top floor with architect William Templeton Johnson, who occupied a 1,000-square-foot office until 1954. The space is now used as the hotel's Presidential Suite, its master bedroom located in Johnson's former library (decorated with the same kind of hand-painted ceiling as in the Grand Lobby).
Exit onto the patio outside the Presidential Suite, and the view reveals yet another level, above the 14th floor.
It's the copper-domed cupola, a.k.a. the "Lantern," which housed San Diego's first aviation beacon—243 feet above where the Hotel Beacon once stood. This was a really biug deal for San Diego, which had become known as "The Air Capital of the West" in World War I.
Appropriately, the "Father of San Diego Aviation" Major T.C. Macaulay dedicated the beacon, and pioneering aviator Eddie Stinson first switched it on. Visible for more than 25 miles, it revolved from dusk till dawn to guide aviators and navigators trying aim their planes toward the airport—but only during its first five years.
They'd also light the beacon when a ship was coming into the Port of San Diego—not only to help it avoid getting wrecked but to also notify local laborers that jobs were opening up.
Today, the cupola still provides one of the best panoramic views of Downtown San Diego—certainly the best I've seen. Unfortunately, you can't just go up there on your own.
But ask a bellman to give you a tour, and he'll gladly oblige.
When the new San Diego Trust and Savings Bank building opened in 1928, it was the year before the stock market crash that kicked off the Great Depression. But the bank was steadfast.
The bank's second president, M.T. Gilmore, assured its customers that "the present situation is not nearly so perturbing as a more restricted view might suggest"—recalling that in the nearly 40 years since its founding, they'd already experienced five periods of "panic," two wars, and mixed periods of revival and recession.
"This, too, will pass" were the words that continued to carry San Diego Trust and Savings Bank through the next 66 years until the later generation decided to throw in the towel.
Fortunately, the doors on the bank didn't close forever—because it reopened as a hotel in 1999, preserving and reusing a large majority of original elements for the building's new purpose.
Related Posts:
Breathing New Life Into the Eyesores of Downtown LA
In 1928, it was about to get a new home, too—its fourth in San Diego, and its most magnificent yet.
There had been just one obstacle to its construction. The Hotel Beacon was standing on the corner lot at 6th and Broadway, which SDSB had purchased in 1924.
So, the old hotel got demolished; the new 13-story bank headquarters got built as the tallest building in San Diego at the time. (It would hold that honor until 1960.)
The funny thing is, though the bank building is still there, it's no longer a financial institution—but a hotel!
It's now the Downtown/Civic Center Marriott Courtyard (and probably the nicest Marriott Courtyard anywhere).
What goes around, comes around, I guess.
Built by William Simpson Construction Company at a cost of approximately $1.4 million, the San Diego Trust and Savings Bank building is one of only three banks ever designed by master architect William Templeton Johnson. Most would probably agree it was his best.
Its "bones" are made of steel reinforced concrete, but what you see on the outside is two stories of buff-colored sandstone quarried from Briar Hall in Ohio (perhaps its first exterior use on the West Coast)...
...perched atop a base of pink granite known as Scotch Rose.
The experience of walking through the bronze revolving door of the main hotel entrance now is meant to be quite similar to when the building functioned as a bank.
The Grand Lobby is largely intact from its former financial function—the circular antique chandeliers still hanging from the hand-painted, coffered plaster ceiling (rising 32 feet in height) and surrounded by 35 marble columns topped with Corinthian capitals. In all, 19 different types of marble were quarried from several Mediterranean countries as well as other sources around the world.
The lobby in particular evokes a medieval atmosphere, as it features all the ornamentation that came into fashion in the Middle Ages—clerestory windows behind iron grilles, grand arches, medallions, and such. Much of those arise out of the Italian Romanesque Revival/Italianate Renaissance Revival architectural style (the The San Diego Union called it "Lombard-Romanesque" at the time of its opening)—less common in commercial buildings like this one and more frequently found in churches.
In addition to the banking services offered to the public (from the basement through the mezzanine levels), the building also housed offices in its upper stories...
...and its original office building entrance is still there, just beyond the massive arches of the elevator lobby, the wall paneling of Italian marble, and the floor of Tennessee marble (from Gray Eagle Quarry).
One of the original bank tables—once positioned near the teller cages for customers to fill out their paperwork and sign checks—has been relocated to the elevator lobby, with others sprinkled throughout the current hotel as well.
The original mail chute is still mounted in a recessed niche in the elevator lobby—and the post office still picks up the mail every afternoon at 1 p.m.
Behind sculptured bronze doors, hotel guests would find the most technologically advanced, high-speed elevators, which traveled at a maximum rate of 660 feet per minute—more than double most other buildings at the time.
By comparison, the first-ever commercial passenger elevator (in NYC) took a full minute to climb just 40 feet. Today's fastest elevator in the world (China's Rosewood Guangzhou, Guangzhou Chow Tai Fook Finance Centre) travels more than 4100 feet per minute.
The heavy gates leading to the Bond and Investment Service and the one-on-one meeting area still swing—though now they only separate the public from the snacks for sale and a billiard table surrounded by framed, historic photos.
You can still walk down the stairs to the basement in search of the Safe Deposit Department...
...but when you walk through the painted metal vault gates...
...which are no longer locked...
...you'll find the Safe Deposit Room...
... its original 47,000 lb, stainless steel door (manufactured by the Mosler Safe Company of Ohio, which also provided secure storage for Fort Knox) permanently in the "open" position.
Inside, the safe deposit boxes are empty, but you can still pull them out like the drawers of a cabinet of curiosities, hoping to find something secret, special, or valuable inside.
Although the bank catered to customers of all economic status (including children, who could open an account with a starting deposit of 10 cents), the safe deposit boxes attracted some pretty big-ticket valuables that shouldn't be flashed around out in the open.
Their respective owners would be ushered into tiny offices outfitted with telephones to do their business in private. The three booths are still there—but the old style phones are now push-button, and lifting the receiver directs you to the front desk.
The bank theme continues in the Vault Meeting Room...
...though the "Donsteel" security doors on display are just for show.
San Diego Trust and Savings Bank managed to stay a family business—run by descendants of the bank's co-founder and first president Joseph Weller Sefton, Sr.—until 1994, when the Sefton family decided to get out of banking and sold all 53 branches to the LA-based First Interstate Bank, which was later acquired by Wells Fargo. In 1996, Wells Fargo unloaded several of its San Diego properties and closed up shop on SDTSB.
In its heyday, the bank owned the entire building and occupied most of it—with the exception of the 7th floor's FBI offices and holding cells! (Note how the elevator eliminates the 13th floor, which was rechristened the 14th floor.)
A shooting gallery (for lady tellers to practice their aim in case of a bank robbery) shared the top floor with architect William Templeton Johnson, who occupied a 1,000-square-foot office until 1954. The space is now used as the hotel's Presidential Suite, its master bedroom located in Johnson's former library (decorated with the same kind of hand-painted ceiling as in the Grand Lobby).
Exit onto the patio outside the Presidential Suite, and the view reveals yet another level, above the 14th floor.
It's the copper-domed cupola, a.k.a. the "Lantern," which housed San Diego's first aviation beacon—243 feet above where the Hotel Beacon once stood. This was a really biug deal for San Diego, which had become known as "The Air Capital of the West" in World War I.
Appropriately, the "Father of San Diego Aviation" Major T.C. Macaulay dedicated the beacon, and pioneering aviator Eddie Stinson first switched it on. Visible for more than 25 miles, it revolved from dusk till dawn to guide aviators and navigators trying aim their planes toward the airport—but only during its first five years.
They'd also light the beacon when a ship was coming into the Port of San Diego—not only to help it avoid getting wrecked but to also notify local laborers that jobs were opening up.
Today, the cupola still provides one of the best panoramic views of Downtown San Diego—certainly the best I've seen. Unfortunately, you can't just go up there on your own.
But ask a bellman to give you a tour, and he'll gladly oblige.
When the new San Diego Trust and Savings Bank building opened in 1928, it was the year before the stock market crash that kicked off the Great Depression. But the bank was steadfast.
The bank's second president, M.T. Gilmore, assured its customers that "the present situation is not nearly so perturbing as a more restricted view might suggest"—recalling that in the nearly 40 years since its founding, they'd already experienced five periods of "panic," two wars, and mixed periods of revival and recession.
"This, too, will pass" were the words that continued to carry San Diego Trust and Savings Bank through the next 66 years until the later generation decided to throw in the towel.
Fortunately, the doors on the bank didn't close forever—because it reopened as a hotel in 1999, preserving and reusing a large majority of original elements for the building's new purpose.
Related Posts:
Breathing New Life Into the Eyesores of Downtown LA
January 12, 2021
Photo Essay: The Treasures of City Terrace Park, from Medieval to Mid-Century Modern
There's so much in LA that's been lost—that I'll never get to see in person.
September 01, 2012
Photo Essay: Oviatt's Art Deco Penthouse, At Night
[Last Updated 3/22/18 9:41 PM PT]
When visiting the Oviatt Building, anyone can gawk at its ornate Art Deco cornice from across the street, and examine the lovely Lalique glasswork from the front entrance.
But when anyone enters the building - probably through Cicada, the restaurant that now lays claim to the ground floor once occupied by Oviatt's men's clothing store - they lose nearly all sense of Art Deco, since the building itself is Italian Romanesque, and the interior was designed in the style of English Jacobian.
However, upon the rare chance of getting to take the center elevator up, one can find an Art Deco masterpiece perched atop of the roof of the Oviatt Building, in the form of the penthouse where James Oviatt himself lived until his death.
The view of Downtown LA is a bit different than in Oviatt's time—now surrounded by stark, corporate high-rises that dwarf the Oviatt Building's comparatively short stature.
Nearly all of the penthouse's furnishings were sold off in 1974 after Oviatt died (except the dining room table), but there are some Art Deco details that remain, and have been restored: the "spider web" flooring...
...some original sand-etched decorative glass windows (similar to that found in the front courtyard on the ground level)...
...and the bed. Though, not the bedding.
The bathroom is truly phenomenal, with its two sinks (the second for shaving), carved plaster walls (made to look like wood)...
...toilet hidden behind a mirrored closet door...
...and tiled steam and massage room.
Though the building was completed in 1928 during Prohibition, Oviatt commissioned an elaborate, custom bar to be built, which still stands in excellent condition...
...as do the shelves and fixtures in the tiny study off the main room.
The Penthouse (like LA itself) is also full of surprises, utility hidden by decorative elements. A sliding drawer in the dressing room, when pulled out, reveals a cocaine-cutting mirror. (In the same room there's also a hidden sink and a toilet tucked away under a cushioned seat.)
The Penthouse is still being restored, slowly, over time and as new information is learned. In fact, even photographs of the Penthouse have been hard to come by, many of which have only recently emerged as a result of extensive and arduous research. And since much of its original decor (including some valuable art) was sold decades ago, historians must accept that those items have probably been lost forever.
For now, when visiting, all you can do is gaze upon what's there now...
...and imagine what it must have been like when Oviatt's residence rose high above Downtown LA.
Related Post:
Photo Essay: The Oviatt Building's Art Deco Legacy
Looking Up from the Streets of Downtown LA
To become a fan on Facebook, click here.
When visiting the Oviatt Building, anyone can gawk at its ornate Art Deco cornice from across the street, and examine the lovely Lalique glasswork from the front entrance.
But when anyone enters the building - probably through Cicada, the restaurant that now lays claim to the ground floor once occupied by Oviatt's men's clothing store - they lose nearly all sense of Art Deco, since the building itself is Italian Romanesque, and the interior was designed in the style of English Jacobian.
However, upon the rare chance of getting to take the center elevator up, one can find an Art Deco masterpiece perched atop of the roof of the Oviatt Building, in the form of the penthouse where James Oviatt himself lived until his death.
circa 2018
Nearly all of the penthouse's furnishings were sold off in 1974 after Oviatt died (except the dining room table), but there are some Art Deco details that remain, and have been restored: the "spider web" flooring...
...some original sand-etched decorative glass windows (similar to that found in the front courtyard on the ground level)...
...and the bed. Though, not the bedding.
The bathroom is truly phenomenal, with its two sinks (the second for shaving), carved plaster walls (made to look like wood)...
...toilet hidden behind a mirrored closet door...
...and tiled steam and massage room.
Though the building was completed in 1928 during Prohibition, Oviatt commissioned an elaborate, custom bar to be built, which still stands in excellent condition...
...as do the shelves and fixtures in the tiny study off the main room.
The Penthouse (like LA itself) is also full of surprises, utility hidden by decorative elements. A sliding drawer in the dressing room, when pulled out, reveals a cocaine-cutting mirror. (In the same room there's also a hidden sink and a toilet tucked away under a cushioned seat.)
The Penthouse is still being restored, slowly, over time and as new information is learned. In fact, even photographs of the Penthouse have been hard to come by, many of which have only recently emerged as a result of extensive and arduous research. And since much of its original decor (including some valuable art) was sold decades ago, historians must accept that those items have probably been lost forever.
For now, when visiting, all you can do is gaze upon what's there now...
...and imagine what it must have been like when Oviatt's residence rose high above Downtown LA.
Related Post:
Photo Essay: The Oviatt Building's Art Deco Legacy
Looking Up from the Streets of Downtown LA
To become a fan on Facebook, click here.
November 07, 2022
Photo Essay: Oviatt Penthouse, Continuing to Return to Its Original Art Deco Glory
Anyone can visit the Oviatt Building and gawk at its ornate Art Deco cornice from across the street or examine the lovely Lalique glasswork from the front entrance.
But if you enter the building—probably through Cicada, the restaurant that now lays claim to the ground floor once occupied by Oviatt's men's clothing store—you lose nearly all sense of Art Deco.
That's because the building itself is Italian Romanesque, and the interior was designed in the style of English Jacobian.
However, perched atop the roof of the Oviatt Building, in the form of the penthouse where James Oviatt himself lived until his death, you'll find an Art Deco masterpiece.
April 08, 2022
Photo Essay: A Privately-Funded Public Library Built On Borrowed Money, In the 'Jewel of the Inland Empire'
What is a library—besides its collection? In the case of the A.K. Smiley Library in Redlands, California, it's the nationally-landmarked building itself (added to the National Register in 1976 and the California state register in 1990) as well as a significant chapter in the founding of a California citrus town, the "Jewel of the Inland Empire."
Known as the "Patron Saints of Redlands," East Coasters—and identical twin brothers—Alfred Homans and Albert Keith Smiley arrived there in 1889, just after the city had been incorporated. More and more people were relocating to Redlands for its citrus estates and other developments—so, in response to the growing need for a library, "A.K." donated 16 acres of land and the building in 1898.
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Photo: circa 1900 (Public Domain, via California Historical Society Collection, USC Digital Libraries)
May 19, 2013
Photo Essay: Old Soldiers Home Chapel and Streetcar Depot, Closed
postcard courtesy of the VA
I first realized that the Veteran's Administration campus was showing signs of massive deterioration one of the first times I was driving down Wilshire (probably my favorite street in Los Angeles) near the National Cemetery, rounding the bend onto San Vicente. At the time, I had no idea I was in Sawtelle - not Westwood, not Brentwood - or in the former Racho San Vicente y Santa Monica. I only saw a decrepit chapel, its off-white paint buckling and cracking, and thought, "What is that? That is something."
Indeed, it is something. At least, it was.
The Wadsworth Chapel is actually a rare and early example of a multidenominational chapel: two separate chapels - a Catholic one and a Protestant one - under one roof, separated by a soundproof interior wall (so both faiths could conduct services simultaneously, neither having a preferential time slot).
It is the oldest existing building on Wilshire Boulevard.
Built in 1900, the exterior shingles were originally stained dark, with windows trimmed in white, until the entire structure was painted white in 1941.
The paint is peeling and the fixtures are rusted...
...but that's only the beginning of the troubles facing Wadsworth Chapel.
A structure made nearly entirely of wood, it is constantly under attack by termites.
It is built upon an unreinforced foundation.
Although many of its original late Victorian features - eclectic exterior ornamentation (evoking both Gothic and Romanesque influences), roundels, lunettes, multiple types of windows, wainscoting, etc. - remain intact...
A 1955 fire damaged the Protestant Chapel, forcing parts of it to be walled off and/or closed altogether. Most of the structural damage is still unrepaired.
The 1971 Sylmar earthquake sealed the chapels' fate, cracking interior plaster and loosening the brick foundation, rendering one of the bell towers unstable.
Wadsworth Chapel has been closed to the public ever since.
Six years ago, the VA estimated that restoration of their Building 20 would cost $11.5 million.
In the meantime, they have left a staggering number of modern day "old soldiers" homeless, and generated revenue from the commercialization of their 400 acres. Thing is, nobody seems to know where that money went.
Like the attempts to restore many of the other structures on the VA campus, preservation of the chapel has been stalled...perhaps indefinitely.
Designed in conjunction with Wadsworth Chapel, the streetcar depot at the VA was also designed by J. Lee Burton and built in 1900. Both were listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1972, one year after the Sylmar earthquake closed the chapel permanently. At that time, the depot was already closed.
Building 66 was formerly the terminus of the Santa Monica Air Line's Soldier's Home Branch (named after the Old Soldier's Home), passenger service on which was eliminated in 1953
...rendering the station obsolete.
It stands empty now...
...but it does stand.
You can't get in, but you can look in, and you can get right up to it.
No trains run through Sawtelle now. But with the new construction of the Expo Line, maybe they will again...one day.
In the meantime, both the chapel and the streetcar depot are still-standing reminders of very early Los Angeles, a relatively new city with not a lot of historic preservation, known better for building anew rather than for celebrating its past.
Related Post:
Photo Essay: Amongst the Abandoned at the Veteran's Administration, LA
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