Imagine you are a farmer and you own some cattle that are a special breed because they have been in your local community for generations.  These are healthy, beautiful cows but they do not produce as much milk as more robust ones.  In spite of this, you continue to take care of these cows as they are the last of their kind.  You know that if they were to be slaughtered, you would lose something special about the place you are from.  No more would there be a cow breed unique to home.  

This was the message that Dr. Siegfried Farnon shared with his young and eager apprentice James Herriot in PBS’s Masterpiece series, “All Creatures Great & Small” in 2020.  In underscoring the economic role that livestock serves, he empowered the value of caring for unique and special species as a means of preserving local culture.  This understanding of place and appreciation for character applies to other matters in life, in addition to the cows.  A special species of flowers, a wild animal near extinction, a type of dress, a celebratory dance, or even a type of architecture unique to your place, all matter.

When the Cathedral of Notre Dame was on the brink of collapse due to an unexpected fire on April 15, 2019, the country of France as well as the world was devastated.  France was also empowered with the duty to restore their beloved landmark.   In their effort to bring back the Notre Dame, they did not simply strive for a likeness, but they diligently aimed to rebuild the damaged parts in the way it was built in the Middle Ages.  As the NOVA series, “Saving Notre Dame” reveals, engineers employed the best technology possible to identify the same timber and stone that was original to the structure.  Process was equally important to the product.  Authenticity to the highest level was their standard and it guided their decisions without hesitation.
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If something similar were to happen in the United States, would we show the same commitment to being authentic?
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It’s a tough and perhaps unfair question because there is nothing like Notre Dame in the United States.  Though our commitment to national monuments such as the Statue of Liberty, I'd hope, is a no-brainer.  Local landmarks are another subject, but they too tell the story of the Nation.  On a national scale, small local sites may appear unimportant.  But digging deeper into their history, their significance and role in the American narrative can quickly become more and more compelling.

Recognizing these places is not always so apparent.  Even in places like Racine, Wisconsin, where its community is largely dedicated to celebrating its local history, they too experience the struggle to preserve their unique and special characteristics.

The West Sixth Street Bridge was not the Notre Dame of Paris, but it was a landmark unlike any other in the country.  It was one of a kind, its own breed, making the charm of Racine all the more special.  As of this year, 2021, it will be gone; soon to be replaced by something that will be “sympathetic” to what it was originally.  “They just don’t make them like they used to” will probably be said, and it will not be true.  These types of bridges were rarely made, if any, like this one.  

Certainly the bridge was not “perfect.”  Its story also narrated the ideals of colonialism and the exploitation of land.  It continued the narrative of “manifest destiny” in which the structure claimed Racine as neither Native American nor French, but inevitably American.  Its construction was also after WWI when nationalism was strong.   Such infrastructure was created to further impose the idea this land was exclusively America's domain.

Does this mean its history is offensive?  Themes about race were present, but it was subtle and more concerned with the influence of the government, national identity, and local history.  It is ironic though when considering the effort to save statues that represent American history and their overt racism.   Large portions of the communities no longer wish to see them in public, but the outcry to keep them as they are also piques national attention.  This bridge has a story that is significantly more interesting as piece of Americana and is hardly offensive in comparison to these statues, but the attention it gets remains local and will go unnoticed by many.

Regardless, the bridge is about to be demolished.  Even with its exclusive history, many people of Racine could see the bridge as something simply beautiful.  The themes represented did not make much sense necessarily - with the winged dolphin spouts, eagles, and Viking figures, but it was colorful and entertaining.  

Recreating this bridge authentically today is possible.  The trades and technology are active.  And to be fair, Racine is also a community that generally has a strong support for preservation and local history.  However, authenticity has a price tag.  And in competing with the larger American societal values where quick-turnarounds and cheapness are prioritized, the genuine restoration or replacement of this bridge would be a miracle.

But as the saying goes, “haste makes waste.”  And in the haste to clean up and build anew, the efforts of our ancestors become rubble. 

This reflection may appear to be a romanticization of structures from the past, and certainly that sentiment is present, but the truth is that this bridge was special.  Nothing can replace the iconic Notre Dame.  Nothing can replace a local species of cow that is unique to a family of farms.   Nothing like this bridge, not even Hope Memorial Bridge in Cleveland, can replace the unique features of this bridge.  All structures, to some degree, express the history of the community.  But not all structures are the “Concrete Arch Bridge” from Racine. 

​As times goes, we add, cut, and edit the story of place, deciding which direction the narrative goes.  Unfortunately, the bridge will soon be gone.  It seems that the new design for the replacement has positive outcomes, such as its considerations of safety for pedestrians and bicyclists, but its authenticity to the design and handmade craft of the structure concern me.  What will be preserved, to me, remains a mystery.  The Sixth Street Bridge is beginning a new chapter.  Will its original features be a mere memory?  I want to be optimistic, but we will see what happens.  

There is little left to the imagination when it comes to observing the beer-manufacturing process in Milwaukee's architecture.  This town has a splendid display of the brewing beer in architectural terra cotta.  Best part of it is that you can experience the entire "exhibition" on the street.  If capable, hop on a bicycle and explore the former breweries of Schlitz, Pabst, Miller, and a few other related sites and you will be amazed.  Depending on your route, you could be lucky enough to take in the aroma of boiling hops in the fresh air.

Despite this being a blog, let's pretend we are together... on a tour!  Bring your own beverage.  Wear good shoes so you're comfortable.  We're traveling about a total of 8 miles!  

Let's begin at the Miller Brewery on State Street.

What better place to start than at a site with a symbol that stands for the process of brewing beer?  Pictured above is a terra-cotta lunette on the Fred Miller Brewhouse built in 1886.  Ever notice the six-pointed star near the top of cream-brick façade?  It's hard to miss when painted gold and positioned above the name of the company owner, Fred Miller.  If you are a fan of geometry, you can call it a hexagram.  If you speak German or want to impress a German, call it a "Bierstern" (beer star) or "Brauerstern" (brewers' star).  In European history this star has roots in ancient alchemy representing a balance of fire and water energies.  It was adapted in the Middle Ages to be a symbol for brewers' guilds.  In Modern times and likely in the case of the Miller brewhouse, the star stands for the beer-making process. One triangle represents fire, air, and water, and the other represents grain, hops, and yeast.  

Fascinating, eh?  You can read more about this star at the Beer Museum and the Beer Connoisseur.

Have you ever been to Cincinnati?  They have a very similar design at an abandoned brewery in the Over-the-Rhine neighborhood, built in 1887.  Read about it here!   The terra cotta from both sites were likely from the Northwestern Terra Cotta Works of Chicago.  Click here for Google Maps Link.
 
Also at the Fred Miller Brewing Co. Brewhouse above the main door is a more literal representation of the tools and ingredients need to make their celebrated beers.  

At the center of the bas-relief sculpture is a brewing rig containing a mash paddle, bailer, and sieve.  Fruitful hop vines envelope the tools as well as bundles of barley.  Flanking each side are magical rinceau with mushroom-like forms that are in fact the rising of yeast creating a foamy formation of bubbles during fermentation.   

This beautiful documentation of Miller's beer-making process is a lovely statement, especially above a doorway.  What a welcome?  The artistry may not tell all the secrets, let alone each part of the process, but it does provide an excellent starting-point to describe beer-making.  

Are you ready for another?  Did you think I was talking about your glass?  Okay, let's travel three miles east, down Highland Avenue, to the former Schlitz Brewery in the neighborhood of Brewer's Hill.​

Recognize that belted globe?  Chicagoans do for sure since there are loads of them, modeled in terra cotta, on many old tied houses.  Milwaukee has its fair share of these too - but only at the Schlitz Brewery Complex will you see them in clay.

Decorative plaques and trimmings in terra cotta were installed on nearly all the buildings at this site.  You will observe that they are in numerous colors: red, orange, and polychromatic designs.  Any decoration that shows an array of colors is not the original surface and was painted.  

Save a sip for the last, and very important step in the manufacturing of beer: its delivery.   The Stables on the north side of the site commemorates beer distribution with beautiful sculptures of horses.  They can be seen on the south and east elevations of the building.  They too were originally earthy, terra-cotta orange in color like the rest of the decorations on the parapet.  However, today they are neatly painted and make lovely statements on the street. 

Here we go again!  Less than a mile southwest we move to the Pabst Brewing Company on the hill.  Oh wait... we are going another mile further.  Hold on!

The finest pleasures of enjoying beer may be the craft for some expert brewers, but for most of us it is the nourishment.  The activities surrounding the consumption of beer may, arguably, have a craft of its own.  No place does such an elegant job at creating a paradise for the indulgence of beer than the pavilion at the Pabst Mansion.  

Otto Strack, the company architect for the Pabst Brewing Co., designed the fancy structure on the eastern section of the mansion for company owner Captain Frederick Pabst.  The domed building was originally on display for the Chicago World Fair of 1893 as the part of the exhibit for the Pabst Brewing Company.  Amazingly this structure was transported and positioned at the residence of Pabst. 

Taking a first glance at this sculptural grandeur, it's quite breathtaking.  Its intricate detail lures you in and rewards you with decorative motifs that celebrate the drinking of beer.  Barley, hop vines, steins, and bands of cherubs can be marveled at from any view of the structure.  Atlantes are sculpted into a clay as if they were riding in carriages navigating through a sea of beer.  Full-round statues of puttos playfully wrestle swans into a headlock.  What else do children do in a beer garden?  Commemorating the Captain is a grandiose cartouche with his monogram.  They appear on each of the four sides of the pavilion and are flanked with two figures.  The female figure holds a bundle of barley and the male figure has a bundle of hop vines.  A crown placed at the crest marks Pabst as the king of beer.  

The late nineteenth century was a glorious era for terra-cotta sculptors.  Not only did they have plenty of work to complete, but they were able to execute inspiring and fulfilling designs such as these at these sites for Miller, Schlitz, and Pabst.  Fortunately, this tradition did not cease in the 1890s.  One of the last installations of architectural terra cotta in Wisconsin continues this narrative of the beer-making process in clay.   Art Deco lovers, hold on real tight as we are heading down the bluff and southward 3.5 miles to the office for the Froedtert Grain & Malting Company.  

In 1952, the Froedtert Grain & Malting Co. contracted American Terra Cotta & Ceramic Company to create three medallions for their artsy, Art Deco office building.  This contract would have been common in the 1890s, or even in the 1920s, but this was significant for the 1950s.

All three medallions were modeled by sculptor Edward Schiller.  We know this because there is a photograph of him with his pipe modeling one of the medallions in wet clay inside of a plaster frame.  The picture is printed on page 113 of the Common Clay book by George Berry III and Sharon Darling.  

On the office building, you will see two medallions of the same design.  They are reminiscent of the tympanum at the Fred Miller Brewhouse from 1886 with the representation of a brewing rig, a scuppet, a mash paddle, and a bailer.  Hop vines and bundles of barley also embellish this design.  

Next to the office is the Chemistry Lab Annex with a third medallion.  This is the one that is pictured with Edward Schiller in the Common Clay book.  The design is a remarkable documentation of a chemistry set.  An intricately rendered microscope appears on the left.  In the front center is an Erlenmeyer flask with a stopper.  And on the right is a distillation device known as a retort.   Also in the design is a logo for the company.  It reads, Froedtert Grain & Malting Company, Inc. with a monogram in the center and a scale behind it.  

Medallions sculpted by Edward Schiller of the American Ceramic & Terra Cotta Co. in Crystal Lake, Ill.

And there you have it!  How fascinating it is to see the process of manufacturing exhibited on the buildings that represent those industries?  Hopefully we can admire the craft they represent for generations.  Though before we finish our refreshments, it is important that we acknowledge the significance of the terra-cotta material.  We can appreciate these examples for providing insight on the art of beer-making, but we must also appreciate that they are made of ceramic. 

Why does it matter that they are made of clay?  Well, I've got two words for you: processing and kilns.  Both terra cotta and beer are manufacturing industries and use similar, and at times, identical chemistry equipment.   From the mixing, smashing, paddling, sifting, measuring, weighing, and exposure to heat, there are many processes in ceramics and beer that resemble one another.  Clay is like grain in that both need to be processed before they can be worked with to create a product.  Both materials are exposed to heat through kilning.  And both products can be used with one another in the end, i.e., steins!

It would be absolutely different if these bas-relief sculptures were made of precast stone or carved stone.  The very nature of these ceramic installations is that they too went through a process that involved chemistry, firing, and calculated time, effort, and skill.  Both were transformations of earthly materials turned it into a modern product.  With that, I encourage you to find a well-crafted stein and a delectable brew, and enjoy the rewards of labor, art, and craft.

Architectural terra cotta has many uses.  It can be used to provide fireproofing for a steel-skeleton structure.  It is useful for creating beautiful façades and handsome streets.  One less obvious purpose is the capacity for terra cotta to give perspective and guidance in our daily lives. 

A sculpture of an owl perched on a school building reminds children to aspire for further knowledge.  Gothic pinnacles on a church affirm a powerful and spiritual devotion to a higher being.  These are just a couple examples of how terra cotta has been used artistically to communicate something other than its function or beauty.  Terra cotta, or any architectural ornament, has the possibility to convey a message.  In Milwaukee, we are fortunate to have historical examples of terra cotta that offer such advice.  Let's look at a few!

At the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee, is the beautiful collection of red buildings known as "the Downer Quad."  When I was a prospective student there, these buildings were a little bit of superficial encouragement to enroll at U.W.M.  Beside their overall affect, there are some messages on these buildings that are extraordinary.

The most ornate of the red buildings is Holton Hall, built in 1899.  It has three oriel windows with a series of panels telling different classical adages.  One that has stood out to me is the shield bearing a dolphin and an anchor.  The symbol features the inscription Aldi, Discip, and Angl, which translates to Aldo’s English Disciple.  It was the printer’s mark from the 19th-century printer William Pickering and was an adaptation of the 16th-century Italian printer Aldus Manutius.  The dolphin-and-anchor emblem is an oxymoron that means "Festina lente" or "Make haste slowly."  Personally I have found meaning in this symbol for my own efforts as a tile-maker, historian, and educator.  I even like to call it my own motto at times.  However, this year making haste seems stressful, and doing just "slow" seems to be all I can manage.  But when I am in my lows, this message reminds me that even accomplishing a little bit keeps things moving.

Humility is a lesson that at any point in someone's career does them good.  Especially on a college campus, when ambitions are big and dreams are high, a little bit of mockery can be healthy. 

Across the street from Holton is Garland Hall, built in 1910.  On those windows are sculptures of lion heads.  Such kings of beasts are symbolic of courage and bravery.  These noble cats, however, stick their tongues out as if they are totally unimpressed by anyone's awesome effort to be bold or confident.  

Another form of humility is expressed in Milwaukee's most iconic structure, City Hall.  The structure was completed in 1895 and designed by local architect Henry C. Koch.  Its style was unlike any other City Hall in America.  It also demonstrated a message about civic life unique to Milwaukee.  

A humble lesson on civic engagement may not come to mind when you see the City Hall.  Its impressive 350-foot bell tower made it the world's tallest habitable structure when it was built.  It sumptuous ornamentation is something celestial as well.  One may be thinking they are looking at a building inspired by a German fairy tale, with a princess locked in the tower.  Such fantasy is palpable as one can see all sorts of creatures such as fauns, puttos, jackals, and some sort of winged dragon, phoenix, or basilisk (see below).  But... what does all this fairy tale nonsense tell us about the operations of municipal government or civic engagement, if anything at all?  

Henry Koch was reaffirming a fondness and connection to German ancestry, as it so handsomely emulates the Rathaus in Hamburg and the once nearby Pabst Building.  But the architect's enchanted menagerie was not about being simply German or Teutonic, but rather a lesson on humility.  In spite of all the bureaucratic policies and seriousness of matters related to city government, there is a purpose for humor and imagination.   The plump cherubs, grinning grotesques, and guardian beasts are intended to be laughable, exciting, and adventurous.  They inspire us to be young at heart and playful in our minds.  These types of messages are important for anyone passing by and especially the people who operate in the local government.  In a place of power and decision-making, this ornament reminds city officials to support the mental health and well being of its people.  

​Indeed, it is an outstanding privilege that the City of Milwaukee has such a beautiful building.  The nature of it being a structure owned by the people and operating for the people is also incredible.  

Another interesting message found in the built-environment is on Walter Schroeder's hotel built in the 1920s (picture below).  Near the top of the structure is a frieze that wraps around most of the building.  Between the windows are naturalistic figures, mostly nude, with healthy anatomy.  They rest their elbows on the edge of shields and are grouped together in pairs.  Behind each figure is a garland of flowers tied between vases.  The decoration gives the impression that staying at this hotel is like a trip to paradise.  Hotel guests can relax, be themselves, and enjoy their stay. ​

Traditionally figures tucked between windows and strings of flowers would be puttos similarly to City Hall.  However, the original Hotel Schroeder shows adult figures and as a consequence looses the sense of innocence that cherubs often portray.  These figures are also placed on the frieze and difficult to see from the street level.  As a result, the healthful and athletic figures seem exceptional and elite in their location.  The relief sculptures of flower baskets and fanciful birds on the lower stories also reinforces a sense of imagined wealth and abundance.

But this is not the full message.  Look carefully at the representation of the adult figures in relation to the rest of the decoration.  Examine their facial expressions and their bodies as a whole.  While they clearly are looking down at each other, they seem to have no emotion.  They also lack a sense of individuality or personality.  They are the same figure, molded, and copied across each side of the building.  And they stand between each other like the flowerpots between them.   They are just as decorative as the decoration itself.  All the wealth they posses may put them at the top, but it makes them no more full of life than the material objects that surrounds them.
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​The last lesson in terra cotta I want to share is not in Milwaukee, necessarily, but in the village of Shorewood.  It is my favorite piece of architectural terra cotta.  On the Armory Courts Building, built in 1930 and designed by Herbert Tullgren, are three identical panels that represent the joy of contemplating nature.   They show a young man, wearing a hat, sitting on the ground with his leg crossed over the other.   He is surrounded by flowers and in his sight is a large, healthy tree.  There is no sketchbook in his hands, no binoculars, or even a watch on his wrist.  He is not reading a book, or looking for his cellular phone as one would today.  He is in his own element, relaxed, and alone in his own thoughts.  The message is quite simple: enjoy the present.  The building, located only a small walk from either Estabrook Park on the Milwaukee River or Atwater Beach on Lake Michigan, shows advice that takes little effort to follow. 

These examples of architectural terra cotta show that ornament can be more than decoration. And there is more than beauty in ornament that contributes to better mental health and well-being.  When done right, it can influence our moral character, reaffirm our values and beliefs, excite our imagination, and inspire how we spend our day.  Today this effort to use art in the built-environment exists, but it is nowhere comparable to what it was like one-hundred years ago.  It was a different era.  Fortunately, in Milwaukee, we can enjoy many historic sites that still have these lessons in terra cotta.  

The Railway Exchange Building was recently a part of a test on how the built-environment is a reflection of who we are and how we represent ourselves.  A mural by artist Shepard Fairey was proposed for the south side of the structure.  It was supposed to be based on his artwork, “Voting Rights are Human Rights,” which was one of two prints in his series, “American Rage.”  The artworks were designed in collaboration with Steve Schapiro who documented civil rights protests in the 1960s.  

​Admittedly, the print is a beautiful work of art.  And I appreciate the artist’s effort to represent issues that our society is struggling with.  As prints on a wall with proceeds that support the Equal Justice Initiative and Black Lives Matter, the artist is doing their fair share in using their privilege and voice to support a greater cause.  Unfortunately, as a mural in downtown Milwaukee, the work is a totally different conversation.  
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First let us begin with the subject of the building itself - which is a lovely sight of architectural terra cotta.  It is a product of late nineteenth-century Chicago School commercial architecture designed by Buemming & Dick of Milwaukee alongside Jenney & Mundie of Chicago.  The visual language of the façade follows traditions of classical antiquity.  It’s tripartite design is based on three portions of a column.  Its arched entryway is decorated with a keystone, rosettes, festoons, and cartouches.  The upper stories are where the real party exists, decorated with cherubs, lions, anthemion, and all the aforementioned details.  While the brown, earthy red exterior materials are brick and terra cotta, they simulate Lake Superior brownstone.  This imitation of carved stone gives the impression that the façade is of high-quality, expensive taste.  

This brings us back to today with the recently proposed mural and its artist Sherpard Fairey.  Featuring the artist on this building would add to the narrative of this space as a white-male edifice.  As I have tried to make clear, this building is rooted in the story of whiteness and male entrepreneurship.  Fairey’s story is not terribly different.  And the scale of this project and its location on the building would give it generous visibility to the public, adding to the skyline that is already predominantly built by the vision of white men.  
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Acknowledging the identity of the artist and the history of the space as primarily white and male is part of the picture, but does not make commissioning Fairey a problem.  White men creating murals is not the argument.  Fairey’s mural depicts a political message about the struggle of Black people and their right to vote in this country.  If it were to be installed, it would be another example of a story about a people of color struggling for justice being told by a white person.  This causes many issues, especially for a city like Milwaukee, where the African-American story too often comes through the white lens.  Furthermore, it would be another white person benefiting from their struggle.  

Fairey’s message as a print is very different from a large-scale, downtown mural.  Its size-able presence in the skyline makes the problem unbearable.  I think the fact this mural was rejected for a totally different reason - that of the Historic Preservation Committee needing to complete their guidelines for the installation of murals on historically-designated properties, is a blessing in disguise for community members who did not see the issues represented in the Fairey mural as a problem.  The decision opens up time for more conversation on how buildings represent who we are and who is invited to participate in shaping our built-environment.

 I would hope that the property owners of the Railway Exchange Building go forward with commissioning a person of color to be showcased on their beautiful building.  I think they have demonstrated their ability to collaborate with community organizations to create opportunities for artists.  Also, based on the content of Fairey’s proposed mural, they have shown interest in representing diverse voices.
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Milwaukee is a city with many gorgeous buildings of the past.  Their history is certainly almost all founded on the story of the industrial white male.  And I want to make sure it is clear that it is okay to be proud of that history and see the beauty in it, as long as other perspectives are brought to the table as well.  Our community has grown and I think this proposed mural shows that our built-environment has not necessarily grown with it.  More can be done in the vein of true inclusion.  And it includes both recognizing the work people of color are already doing in narrating the story of our urban landscape and granting them more opportunities that shape our historic architecture.

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Sources & Further Reading:
Letter Pleading More Community Dialogue on Mural by local artists
​Urban Milwaukee August 3 feature on the Voting Rights Mural
​Urban Milwaukee July 9 feature on the Voting Rights Mural
Bobby Tanzilo's 2015 Feature on Railway Exchange
Old Milwaukee Database
"Building a Railroad." Milwaukee Daily Sentinel, 6 Jan. 1897, p. 8. Nineteenth Century U.S. Newspapers.
Milwaukee Journal, FOURTH ed., 17 Apr. 1903, p. 8. NewsBank: Access World News – Historical and Current.  

School buildings are treasure-boxes of mysteries.  Secret stairways, hidden corridors and underground tunnels are just some of the features that leaves students and alum curious about their locations and purposes.  This is especially the case with historic schools from the late 1930s like Casimir Pulaski High. 

One such mystery at the high school is the collection of faience tiles above the bubblers.  Everything about the school building is designed so well that someone walking in the hallway may not even notice these tiles.  However, upon close examination, it is easy to get lost in the pictorial adventure represented in these artworks.  

How were these tiles created?  Who made them?  What story do they tell?  These were questions that students explored in a tile-making workshop at this Milwaukee public school.  Before quarantine initiated due to the coronavirus outbreak, Art teacher, Ms. Megan O'connell Tharpe and I teamed up on a lesson to create new tiles inspired by the old ones with her students.  

Many of the students were talented artists and expressed interest in pursuing art after school!  All the while, the students had confessed not having done much in clay before.  Before I visited, O'Connell Tharpe introduced this new territory with her students.  They experimented, played, and got their hands messy; the only way to start using clay!  

When I visited, I presented the history about their extraordinary school building and its tiles.  It was fun to share my enthusiasm for the building they call home.  The students were interested to learn about their school and were excited for the hands-on activity that followed.  

For many of the students, this was the first time they used clay for an assignment.  Each pressed their own tile with a custom-made plaster mold.  The design was a 5-inch circle similar to the 8-inch tiles in the hallway.  The students were demonstrated how to carve the raised-line technique, however, they were given options with how to represent their desired image on to their tile.  

Although the students never got the chance to glaze their tiles, they were able to finish carving their work before quarantine began.   They did a stellar job!  O'Connel Tharpe and I wanted to make sure the students got their work back but the thought of returning their tiles bisque-fired just seemed sad considering all the things happening in our lives.  Furthermore, many of the students had graduated from high school too.  Hence, I glazed their tiles before the end of the year when I was able to work in my school building again.  Since then O'Connell Tharpe has been returning them to her artists.   We are so proud of them!

Please enjoy the collection of faience tiles created by students at Casimir Pulaski High, inspired by their very own school.   

In the majestic Midwest prairie, many buildings known as the "Sullivanesque" made quaint farm towns look like "Little Chicagos."  The comparison is cute, but really does have some truth.  Between 1910 and 1930, a Chicago terra-cotta manufacturer, the Midland Terra Cotta Company, specialized in stock ornament that was affordable and readily available to any builder or contractor.  Once someone is familiar with the product, these buildings are immediately recognizable.  Ronald Schmitt authored a book on this subject, Sullivanesque: Urban Architecture and Ornamentation, published in 2002.   His outstanding research on the Sullivanesque presents the influence of this Prairie aesthetic that embellished both urban and rural America.   While his work primarily focused on the Midwest, it also covered the entire continental United States, as well as Canada and Puerto Rico.

The ornamentation on this building pictured above competes with the bright teal awnings, neon lights, posters, and active traffic.  However, this is the type of "unnoticed" and "under-appreciated" ornament that Schmitt valued in his book plays a significant part of the narrative of Wisconsin's vernacular architecture.  While it is an import from Chicago, this type of ornament can be found all across the state, from Superior, Rhinelander, Lancaster, Manitowoc, and many other cities, towns, and villages.  The design aesthetic is inspired by a love for nature and a fascination with geometry, order, and balance, it originates in the Midwest.

Since stock-ornament was Midland's trademark, identical designs appear on buildings in all different locations.  One of particular interest to Wisconsin is medallion no. 4508.  It's a circular disc with a diameter of approximately 3 feet.  In Schmitt's book on the Sullivanesque, he printed a plate of the medallion with trimmings on one of the introductory pages.  If you don't have a copy of this essential book, you can see it on the "A Chicago Sojourn" blog from March 13, 2016, on Sullivanesque buildings in Chicago.  He included photographs of many buildings with the medallion no. 4508.  Also, on Eric Nordstrum's blog Urban Remains, he pictures a catalog image of Plate 45 from the manufacturer.

In my research, I have found that the medallion appeared on several buildings as well, however, not all of them were from Midland or terra cotta.  ​

Notice in Wisconsin there were four examples of Midland Terra Cotta's medallion no. 4508 from the 1920s.  In 1915 the disc was installed on the Otto Hilgermann Building in Rhinelander.  In 1922 a commercial building (probably a bank or insurance co.) used the disc in Milwaukee with one whole medallion and four half-discs.  Four years later Siebert & Kegler installed seven discs on the new Forest Home automobile showroom for the Chevrolet Co.  And up north again in 1927 the medallion units were installed on a single-story building for the Metropolitan Life Insurance Company in Superior.  The discs on each installation are all identical, hence "stock ornament," but are surrounded with slightly different trimmings.  The white, opaque enamel glaze appeared in Rhinelander and Superior, but in Milwaukee there were green and cream-colored glazes used.

While these occurrences are just neat and fun for the terra-cotta explorer (and also support their preservation!), perhaps most interesting are two installations that appear similar to the Midland Terra Cotta medallion, but are not from the company nor are terra cotta.  

In 1928 architect Gus A. Krasin designed an addition to the Hotel Charles in Marshfield.  The cheesemakers Blodgett & Sons Co. owned and built the original structure built in 1926 and commissioned Krasin for the addition.  The architect did not contract Midland, but instead managed to have concrete units made that resemble the Sullivanesque ornament.  This imitation also occurred in Sheboygan.  A similar example with more depth and floral designs was created.  The manufacturer of these decorations is currently unidentified, but it would be really interesting to know who created this "knock-off" Midland ornament.  All the while, no hard feelings should be placed on Midland, as their stock ornament was a knock-off of designs by Louis Sullivan and his following, such as George Elmslie.  

In addition to the precast stone installation in Marshfield is a striking installation in Milwaukee.  Little information is known about the building, and when city records are available again, I can update this blog with what I find.  For now, its a mixed-use, two-story brick building with concrete trimmings and decorative faience tile. Notice how the installation takes inspiration from the magnifying glass design.  Instead of a relief panel, it uses simplified, plain surfaces and colored-tile patterns to express intricacy.  While the manufacturer of all the field tile cannot be said, decorative tiles from the Flint Faience & Tile Co. appear on the façade. 

Why are these installations not in terra cotta?   Did the builders not believe in the durability of terra cotta against the Midwest climate, or did they not understand the product?  That is possible, but I am also a fan of speculating that builders had the creative license to do as they chose.  Architects and contractors needed to manage a budget, satisfy a client's expectations for ornate design, and employ the superlative materials.  In accomplishing these goals, creative outcomes emerged as we see in Marshfield and Milwaukee.  Additionally, it's important to recognize  Midland Terra Cotta's whole business plan was practically a knock-off of the brilliant, sophisticated designs of prairie architects Louis Sullivan and George Elmslie, among others.  In essence, they were a creative problem solution to meeting demands of the building industry and providing a more affordable version of meaningful craft in a quicker time-frame.   Thus, builders taking that service even further by using different materials for similar, ornamental patterns makes sense.  

Finding these patterns in the built-environment are important because they show an aesthetic language.  This is not an alternative phrase for style, but rather, it speaks to a deeper meaning that the shapes and motifs represent.  Ornamentation can be more than a superficial embellishment.  They can do more than dress up a plain brick building.  Volutes, ovals, and triangles are more than geometry.  Midland products help spread the designs created by prairie architects.  These aesthetics were based on philosophy and a spiritual connection to their work and its meaning.  As Schmitt opens up with in his book, Sullivanesque architecture, "successfully integrated 'high art' with functional construction ... The gap between the refined art of the originator and the 'low art' of the imitators was relatively narrow.  The adoption of the Sullivanesque style generally improved the design caliber of the speculative building and the resulting urban fabric."  This description Schmitt makes for Sullivanesque makes the aesthetic seem honorable for any building with such designs, even if they are merely "imitative."  And such respect for its preservation is well placed since it represents a regional identity.

Such meditation on the significance, beauty, and potential of design and material seems to be abandoned by most contemporary architects and building suppliers.  As demonstrated in this blog's simple reflection, even small-town architects in the early 20th century were able to dable into a sense of spirit and expression in utilitarian architecture.  ​A reflection on new-builds from the last 5-10 years will lack any sense of regional spirit and connection.  Few individuals such as "starchitects" are able to carry on that reflective practice.  When someone's design for a corner bank meets a fraction of the caliber of Calatrava's Quadracci Pavilion, please let me know.  

The buildings Herbert Tullgren designed significantly shape the experience of architectural ornament in Milwaukee.  While his father, Martin, employed concrete for ornament, Herbert primarily used architectural terra cotta.  Some of his most recognized works featured terra cotta and remain intact today.  His major landmark downtown was a two-story shop for George Watts (1925).  An addition he designed for the Hotel Shorecrest (1929) and a Modern/Art Deco apartment building known as the Hathaway (1930) added elegance to the lakefront skyline.  And his most valued building of artistic expression and playful craft was the Bertelson (1927) on the East Side.  

Tullgren was not shy about exploiting the advantages of terra cotta.  He designed with architectural terra cotta more than any other architect in Wisconsin.  In Milwaukee County he had over thirty buildings erected with the product, as well as significant structures in Madison, Waukesha, Manitowoc, and Duluth.  While many of this graceful works are extant, unfortunately several have been lost to the wrecking ball.  Hence, it is important to recognize Tullgren's buildings and his influence on the Milwaukee built-environment.  

The business block likely built as an investment property for Mr. Tullgren is an essential building to give recognition.  The colors and fanciful ornament may captivate your attention as you walk by, but there is history here that may not be apparent unless you know about it.  

Passing by this busy intersection on the westside, the grand arches and elaborate parapet will strike you.  Despite being tucked behind parked cars, a bus stop, and trees, the bright glazes and ornament continue to stand out.  

The structure was erected in 1925.  The American Terra Cotta and Ceramic Company of Crystal Lake, Illinois, manufactured the terra cotta.  Their work order for the project was 3589 (according to the Statler Gilfillen index).  Interestingly, the Milwaukee Sentinel stated on November 25, 1924, that bids were being taken for a five-story building in this location.  What happened to those mystery "stories?"  

Ornamental motifs make Tullgren's terra-cotta buildings so captivating.  Common design elements by the architect, including floral medallions, urns, elaborate arches, and fantastic capitals such as the one depicted above appear on the façade.  Who would imagine a lion battling two fire-breathing dragons over a basket of flowers?  It cannot be said necessarily that it was Tullgren's imagination.  It could have been the playful mind of a terra-cotta craftsman.  Either way, it is here in Milwaukee and we can admire it on the street today.

While the motifs really make an adventure out of exploring Tullgren's facades, this building in particular stands out because of the range of glazes it features.  In fact, no other building in Wisconsin features as many glazes as this one does.  In total, there are 19 unique glazes on this facade.  They include semi-transparent golden amber and yellow-orange glazes, opaque and glossy black glazes, satin blues, pinks, purples, beiges, greens and copper, as well as a pulsichrome surface with buff and copper hues.  

The range of glazes on this building make its preservation even more important.  Overall, the building remains intact and occupied.  Like mentioned in a caption, the urns are missing from the parapets.  And the condition of the surfaces are good too.  There are some defects along the base units, including some chipping of the glaze and a crack.  Unfortunately, the entire base units along the north elevation have been painted.  This is really tragic and does not improve the building's appearance.  There could have been a more careful, isolated application of paint such as seen on the Strong Building in Beloit.  Thankfully, since these are vitrified glazed units, the paint can easily be removed with some scrubbing.  Otherwise, the rest of the façade has been really well preserved. ​ Below shows a detail of the base from 2014, which clearly shows surface damage and a crack.  Another detail shows the two glazes with interesting colors and textures.  

The variety of glazes represented on this façade makes the business block for Mr. Tullgren his glazed masterpiece.  However, whether you live on the west, north, east, or south side of Milwaukee, you can find one his terra-cotta gems gracing the street.  When libraries reopen, a full list of Tullgren's terra-cotta buildings are found in my book on Architectural Terra Cotta of Milwaukee County.  In the meantime, you can use the University of Minnesota Anderson Library, Northwest Architectural Archives as a resource for exploring Tullgren.  Click here to see the photographic collection, beginning with this building.  You will see other, stunning, historic photographs of his work taken for the American Terra Cotta & Ceramic Company.  Several of these structures, such as Royal Loop Hotel, Belmont Hotel, and the Bills Block, are no longer standing.   You can also use the Wisconsin Historical Society to look up specific property records.

The architects Herbst & Kuenzli designed some of the most fascinating school buildings in the Milwaukee area.  Between 1924 and 1929, they designed several schools in their offices on the top floor of the Bartlett Building.  Marquette University High School (1924), St. Catherine School (1928), Messmer High School (1929), and Wauwatosa High School (1929) were a few.  Each of these school buildings had facades made of architectural terra cotta and brick.   Faience tile was also found in all of the interiors.  In terms of design, they were some of the most prestigious in the 1920s.  

They also designed a pair of elementary schools for Wauwatosa Public Schools in 1929; Roosevelt Elementary on 73rd & Wright St and McKinley Elementary on 89th & Meinecke Ave.  Not only are they twin schools, but they also share design motifs with Wauwatosa High School, now East High.  Both buildings are stunning examples of academic architecture.  Many schools built after World War II did not plan for such beautiful facilities.  Unfortunately, one of them is about to be demolished soon.

McKinley Elementary is one of four school replacements in Wauwatosa that is a part of the $124.9 million redevelopment referendum.  By Fall 2021, Underwood, McKinley, Lincoln, and and Wilson will all be replaced with completely new buildings.  While the upgrades will make the schools better learning environments, each of these historic buildings feature precious, handmade architectural details.  Such craft may make learning in these schools seem like a privilege.  McKinley is by far one of the neatest and most beautiful elementary schools in the state.  Few schools can compare to the quantity of artistic features installed in the building.  And, while Roosevelt Elementary is a twin school, McKinley has just a little bit more.  

Despite the loss of historic design, it must be acknowledged that this development is exciting and crucial for the students, staff, and school communities.   The new facilities will be more proactive toward the needs of their communities and learners.  Much of the rationale for new buildings was covered by Darryl Enriquez in the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel.  While the new school buildings will be tremendous for Wauwatosa, hopefully they will not lose the unique historic features that made learning in these schools so incredible.

McKinley Elementary, in particular, has tons of tiles.  The Art teacher, Jenny Leigh, helped me around the building to discover their stunning collection.  All the bathrooms and several stairways feature unglazed tiles.  Numerous bubbler backgrounds appear on all three floors.  Most extraordinary is a fireplace in the kindergarten room. 

These tiles are of historic significance and they contribute to the culture of education. Some of the tile is simply functional, such as the floor tile in the bathrooms and the coping found on many windowsills. However, much of the tiles are works of art. They were designed to make schoolchildren feel welcome at school, to enjoy the learning environment, and to feel at home.  They were meant to capture student's imaginations, nurture their creativity, and foster their appreciation for art.  Nowadays, these tiles can still teach students craft, beauty, and how to imagine creative ways to use wall spaces.

Kindergarten teacher, Susan Zeimet, admits that she loves having the coolest room in the school building.  She has been teaching in the room with the fireplace for 19 years.  During this time she has learned many stories about the showpiece in her classroom.   She understands there is history in her room and appreciates the importance of those tiles.  She suggests that the fireplace should be installed in the library of the new school building.  

Will this happen?  As of now, many staff hope so.  In the meantime, I will continue to investigate the story of what is happening to these tiles.  Hopefully, these tiles remain with the kids. The kids should be able to see these tiles when they go to the drinking fountain for water, or sit in front of the fireplace for story time.  Whether it is a new school building tomorrow or a hundred years from now, those tiles are for the kids and the school community.    

Handmade tiles were commonly found in buildings of all kinds in Wisconsin in the 1920s and 1930s. Schools, churches and homes frequently featured floor and wall tiles made by various tile manufacturers in the United States. If you grew up in the Milwaukee area in the 1940s or later it is very likely that you have seen tile installations in these buildings but you may not be aware that much of that tile was manufactured locally in South Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Ironically, tile installations by this local company are almost always misidentified as being the product of other manufacturers.

Our collaboration began in the summer of 2018. While working on my book on architectural terra cotta I began to notice tile installations and began to dig into the subject. I quickly discovered Kelly Dudley and Kathy Roberts, a Phoenix, Arizona couple who have been collecting and researching Continental since the mid-1990s. Their passion for tiles and Continental have led them around the US and to Belgium, although it began in South Milwaukee on a visit to Kathy’s family.  On that trip Kathy was astounded to discover that the empty warehouse building at the end of her block of Menomonee Avenue was at one time the factory and show room of a tile company, something she was unaware of while growing up. Whitney Gould wrote a fantastic article for the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel in 2005, featuring the factory building and the kaleidoscope of tiles inside.
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We have now located approximately 250 sites containing Continental tile, from Wisconsin to Florida. The search continues, with the hope of locating Continental tile in all 50 states. Installations include schools, churches, homes, storefronts, theaters, and municipal buildings. While most of these sites feature floor tile, others include fireplaces, fountains, pools, and wainscotings with compelling, decorative appeal. Most surprising about these sites is that many of them were built in the 1930s, during the Great Depression that saw many other tile manufacturers go out of business. Documenting these sites has been a privilege.  Having a mental library of all their work really makes you believe in the influence and impact of art tile.  However, these sites that make you appreciate local culture and community may not last, especially if the public is not educated about them.  ​

While the splendid craft of the products from the Continental Faience and Tile Company make their feature in a book worthy-enough, the aging of the buildings that feature their tiles make the book even more pressing.  From what I have experienced, many people that own buildings with these tiles are aware they have something special, but know little or anything about it.  Part of keeping these tiles special is that the public is educated about them and that they are preserved properly.   

These are reasons is why Dudley, Roberts and I are working on this book.  When finished, the book will be a company history and portfolio, including detailed product images and many installations sites, an explanation of how their products were crafted, a biography on the company owner Bergmans, as well as a guide on how to preserve the tiles.  The public needs a reference on how to identify these tiles, appreciate them, talk about them, and preserve them.  

Currently Dudley, Roberts and I are still researching, however, we have a draft manuscript in place and are continually working on the book design.  We will soon need to determine the publisher.

In the meantime, to learn more about the Continental Faience & Tile Company, please come to my presentation on Thursday, October 10 at the City Hall in South Milwaukee.  The lecture will last about an hour and it is free!  I will have some tile replicas for sale for $10 a piece.

Also, please send me an email if you would like to share information or if offer a tour of your home or building.  I have visited many sites and found some of the best tile from people offering to share.    Thank you!

Beetles and all sorts of insects are all around during the summer in the Midwest.  Whether you are digging your hands in the dirt, enjoying a nature path, or relaxing in the shade, these miniature and active creatures make their appearance.  If spotted, the vibrant and lustrous colors of their exoskeletons can be really captivating.  Beetles have fascinated humankind so much that they can even be found on buildings, crafted by artists.

The scarab is perhaps one of the most intriguing beetles in the arts.   They have come to symbolize many ideas, including rebirth and regeneration.  They are also known as the "dung beetle" because frankly, they play with manure.  The dung beetle impressively rolls feces into a ball so it can feed on its liquid nutrients.  The ancient Egyptians observed this behavior and compared it to their sun deity, Khepri, who rolled the sun across the sky.  This comparison exalted the dung beetle as one of the most important symbols in their arts and architecture.

In the early 1920s, the adoration of the dung beetle in Egyptian civilization was re-appreciated by craftsmen, artists, and architects in the United States.  The scarab, similar to Mayan hieroglyphs or Greek ornament, was another example of how creatives appropriated symbols from cultures of that past.  Many buildings erected in the "Egyptian Revival" style featured the scarab.  Some of these structures were built with stone or concrete, however, a handful featured the intricate and colorful detail of architectural terra cotta.

The Northwestern Terra Cotta Company of Chicago, Illinois created Egyptian-style ornament for a few buildings in the Midwest.  One of them was the Masonic Temple in Racine, Wisconsin.  The structure was an addition built in 1922 with designs from local architect and member of the temple Edmund B. Funston.  On the frieze one can observe a winged scarab represented in opaque, matte glazes.  The designs stretches across five units at approximately nine-in-a-half feet.  In the center one can notice tan, dark brown, orange, blue, and green glazes on a single unit.  The superior craft of the terra-cotta scarab has the power to captivate any passerby.  

During 1928 appeared the medallion depicted below on the Scarab Club in Detroit, Michigan.  It is only a block away from the Detroit Institute of Arts.  The architect, Lancelot Sukert, positioned the scarab-seal on the third story of the brick facade above the front door.  The richly-glazed tile was created by the Pewabic Tile Company of the same city.   Its carefully applied surfaces featured a variety of seven glazes.  

As mentioned on a historical marker next to the building, the winged scarab, "an Egyptian symbol of rebirth, represents the club's commitment to the perpetual renewal of the arts in Detroit."  The site was built as an art center and continues to be one today.  The clubhouse has hosted many of the world's most important artists, including John Sloan, Diego Rivera, Marcel Duchamp, and Norman Rockwell.  

Outside of the Midwest are also two more buildings with ceramic scarabs in Utah.  The more extraordinary of the two is the Peery's Egyptian Theater in the city of Ogden.  Notice in the picture below the diverse palette of glazes represented on the terra-cotta facade, including greens, pinks, yellows, blues, and purples.  There are four scarabs that embellish the ornate frieze.  The architects were Leslie S. Hodgson & Myrl A. McClenahan.

Also in Utah is the Salt Lake Masonic Temple, built in 1926.  Its imposing facade is built with buff pulsichrome terra cotta.  Above the side entrance, as shown here on Reddit, is a scarab.  The architect was Carl W. Scott.  

Much can be learned from the portrayal of the scarab on these Egyptian revival buildings.   While they were not built as funerary architecture for the sacred or elite, the craftsmen and architects were so dedicated to the detail that even the pharaohs could approve of their work.  The scarab demonstrated that these facades were not merely superficial.  The symbol carried new meanings on these building that were spiritual and philosophical. 

It must also be acknowledged that clayworkers and builders from this day were having fun in their creations.  A theater or warehouse in the heart of the American prairie with ancient Egyptian symbols on it must have seemed out-of-place or even inappropriate to some people.  Nowadays the erection of a Marcus Theater with such ornamentation would likely stir controversy.  The 1920s was a different time.   There were hundreds of craftsmen in the country that were able to model and sculpt clay by hand for architecture.  The erection of a building was a form of artistic expression.  Many architects and developers knew this and believed that their buildings would mean something for future generations, whether it was inspiration, admiration, or that the quality of their work is a priceless value.  Buildings from this time were also an adventure, or at least an invitation to explore - and some accomplished the experience so well that it could happen just upon seeing them on the street.

Further Reading:
​Scarab Club Detroit
https://ilovedetroitmichigan.com/detroit-architecture/the-scarab-club-detroit-michigan/
​http://blogs.detroitnews.com/history/2013/03/24/the-scarab-club-detroits-artist-hangout-since-1907/

Masonic Temple, Racine
https://wisconsinhistory.org/Records/Property/HI11096
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Peery's Egyptian Theater, Ogden, Utah
​https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peery%27s_Egyptian_Theater
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Reebie's Storage Warehouse, Chicago
https://webapps1.chicago.gov/landmarksweb/web/landmarkdetails.htmlanId=1410
https://www.newspapers.com/image/374795362​

Masonic Temple, Salt Lake City
​​https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salt_Lake_Masonic_Temple