Palacio de Viana’s Secret Gardens

Filled with flowers, fountains and fruit trees, each patio at this overlooked gem in Córdoba, Spain has a story waiting to be discovered.

The Palacio de Viana dates back to the 15th century and grew to include a dozen courtyard gardens, many of which are abundant with climbing vines complemented by a distinctive shade of blue.

Suppose you have a brief stay in Córdoba, Spain, and you can only see two of this charming town’s sights. One, of course, has to be the Mezquita. But the second might be a bit surprising: We think you should head a bit off the beaten path to explore the gorgeous plant-filled patios of the Palacio de Viana. 

We might not have even visited the palace (think of it more as a museum and garden where a series of marquises lived) if we hadn’t had a bit of extra time in Córdoba and asked our friend Jo for a recommendation. She told us that it was impressive, but we were absolutely astounded by the variety and number of courtyards. There are 12 in total, not to mention the massive garden, with each taking you on a journey through the home’s extraordinary history.

The striking entrance onto the Plaza Don Gome was added by Luis Gómez de Figueroa y Córdoba, the 2nd Lord of Villaseca.

Visiting Palacio de Viana

As we set off from our lodgings at los Patios del Pañuelo, it was yet another blazingly hot afternoon in Córdoba, even though it was early October. You’re mostly sheltered from the sun by the narrow winding labyrinthine passageways of the historic center. However, after a 15-minute walk en route to the palacio, the intense heat washed over us as if an oven door had opened. The heat builds up throughout the course of the day, and somehow feels hottest around 5 p.m.

Before entering the historic landmark, Duke and I decided to pop into Taberna de Viana, a no-frills café across the street. We were drawn in by a sign advertising their hot pink dragon fruit smoothies.

The seamless blending of indoor and outdoor spaces gives the palace a beautiful harmony.

Refreshed and hydrated, we crossed the Plaza de Don Gome, the small square in front of the palacio. Because we visited during typical siesta hours, our admission was free. (You’ll find this happens a lot in Andalusia, or that the admission is remarkably cheap.)

The courtyards of Córdoba are a testament to the city’s rich history, influenced by various cultural groups, including the Romans, Visigoths, Muslims and Christians over thousands of years.

A Brief History of Cordoban Courtyards

As with most things in town, it started with the Romans. They loved to sip their watered-down wine while lounging in their interior courtyards, a practice that left its mark on Córdoba and has become a symbol of the city. 

The Muslims introduced courtyard gardens that aspired to paradise. Enter ornate tiles, gurgling fountains, reflecting pools and greenery that evokes a desert oasis. 

And when the Christians conquered Córdoba, the courtyards got another makeover, adopting the in-vogue Renaissance style (a bit of a snooze comparatively, in my humble opinion).

The Courtyard of the Columns is actually the newest of all the patios at Viana.

As time marched on, it wasn’t all sunshine and sangria, and some of the patios fell into a state of disrepair. But there’s nothing like a little friendly rivalry to encourage people to whip their courtyards into shape. Competitions were held, leading to the Fiesta de los Patios — an annual event in May that transforms the entire town into a courtyard carnival. This tradition has been recognized and honored by UNESCO since 2012.

The entrance to the palace is through this charming courtyard, which had large photos of bald women cancer survivors when we visited.

A Tour of the Palacio de Viana

Courtyard of the Gate

This courtyard was the entrance to houses once owned by neighbors, the Torres Cabreras, until it was incorporated into the Palacio de Viana in the 19th century. I particularly liked the cobbled floor. A stone pillar, probably of Roman origin and currently repurposed as a planter, was formerly used as a trough for horses and other animals.

It’s come full circle, since the patio is now used as the entrance to the visitor reception center. We left the palace through this patio, which was exhibiting photos of female cancer survivors.

Main plants: bush lilies, Lady Banks’ roses, calla lilies, bougainvillea, centaurea and geraniums

A date palm surrounded by an arcade of 16 Tuscan columns stands at the center of the Reception Courtyard.

Reception Courtyard

Originally an enclosed courtyard, its present incarnation as the entrance to the Patio de Recibo dates back to the 1500s. This transformation took place when Luis Gómez de Figueroa y Córdoba, the 2nd Lord of Villaseca, married María de Guzmán y Argote, a Cordoban noblewoman. Motivated by the union and elevated social status, he constructed the corner façade opening out onto the Plaza de Don Gome. It was designed to impress and highlight the status and wealth of its noble occupants. Some plants were chosen to maintain their greenery throughout the year, while others flowered in different seasons.

A date palm stands at its center, surrounded by an arcade of 16 Tuscan columns supporting a two-story structure, whose window frames are painted in the palace’s signature color, Viana blue. Its trapezoidal shape (think of a triangle with the top shaved off) is a reflection of the plot of land available at the time.

A tour of Viana starts off with a bang, with the large, dramatic Reception Courtyard.

Back in the day, the lord would have his carriage in the stables and enter under one of the arches, while horses would drink water from a Visigothic baptismal font used as a trough. The corner, where two rows of columned arches meet, was where the carriages came and went.

Main plants: plumbago, date palm, Lady Banks’ roses, bush lilies, night blooming jasmine and bougainvillea. 

Walls lined with potted geraniums are a common sight in Córdoba, and the Courtyard of the Cats was no exception.

Courtyard of the Cats

The adjoining courtyard belonged to the Puentezuela de Tres Caños houses, which were purchased in 1545 by Gómez de Figueroa y Córdoba, the 1st Lord of Villaseca. In keeping with medieval tradition, they were cut off from the rest of the palace and used as rental properties. Families that once lived in these homes used the stone troughs in the courtyard gallery for laundry and drew water from the well.

This courtyard once belonged to the Puentezuela de Tres Caños houses and served as rental properties until the second half of the 18th century.

In the second half of the 1700s, it was integrated into the palace and used as offices for the palace’s administrators. But, OK, where are the cats?! It might be a disambiguation of uñas de gato, or cats claws, a leafy vine with sharp three-pronged tendrils resembling a cat’s claws that help it climb and flourish in the courtyard. 

Then again, it’s easy to imagine it was a favorite spot for kitties looking for food scraps after the Viana family took ownership of the palace in 1873 and installed kitchens in the adjoining buildings. 

Main plants: pink trumpet vines, ivy geraniums, geraniums, carnations, marguerites and purple carpet creeping thyme

The Courtyard of the Orange Trees is filled with centuries-old orange trees.

Courtyard of the Orange Trees

Before the Reception Courtyard was built, this was the entrance to the palace in the 15th century. 

Inspired by Muslim orchard gardens, this courtyard is filled with centuries-old orange trees, surrounded by rounded hedges. These were private spaces where one could sit and think, perhaps pondering the meaning of life. They were designed to mimic desert oases, with water being a prominent feature, referred to in the Quran as “divine mercy” — not surprising considering the arid nature of much of the Islamic world.

The patio was inspired by traditional Muslim orchard gardens.

If you close your eyes and focus on your senses, you might smell the delicate scent of orange blossoms or heliotrope followed by the gentle sound of gurgling water. Remember the original purpose of such an intimate, tranquil space: introspection, communion with the divine and contemplation of nature.

How dapper! The last marquis of Viana would pick a flower from the courtyard every day to put in his jacket’s buttonhole.

But I don’t recommend following the tradition of the last marquis of Viana who lived here. Every morning he’d come to the Courtyard of the Orange Trees to pick a heliotrope flower for the buttonhole of his jacket — I’m pretty sure that picking the flowers is now discouraged.

Main plants: bitter orange trees, white water lilies, calla lilies, Chinese wisteria, pig squeak and plumbago. 

The Marchioness of Viana had these tiered steps built to display her pots of cineraria during the passing of the Virgin of Anguish on Holy Thursday.

Courtyard of the Bars

Courtyards are typically private spaces hidden from the casual passerby, but the Patio de las Rejas, or Courtyard of the Bars, breaks with that tradition. Created by the 3rd Lord of Villaseca, Gómez de Figueroa de Córdoba, it features three Mannerist-style openings with wrought iron railings. These “bars” gave the courtyard its name and offered the public a view of the home’s beauty from Rejas de Don Gome Street. If this seems like a means for nobility to flaunt their status and wealth, you're right. 

Cordoban courtyard gardens liberally use potted plants for decoration, something we hadn’t seen anywhere else.

To ensure greenery throughout the year (important since this courtyard was on public display), the gardeners put citrus trees on trellises along the walls, training them to grow vertically. Tiered steps were built following orders from Sofía Amelia de Lancaster y Bleck (1904-1982), 3rd Marchioness of Viana to display her pots of cineraria during the passing of the Virgen de las Angustias (Virgin of Anguish) on Holy Thursday. 

Additionally, she chose to have her bedroom window face the courtyard from the second floor, ensuring that she’d have the best view of the courtyard.

Main plants: citrus trees, geraniums, cineraria, centaura and calla lilies. 

That’s Madama — the water nymph who gave the courtyard its name.

Madama Courtyard 

Created as part of the renovations that took place during the 18th century, the Patio de la Madama was designed to be admired from inside the palace. Cypress trees frame the fountain at its center, which features a naiad, or water nymph, pouring water from a jug, much like the star sign Aquarius. Calla lilies sprout from pots submerged in the basin. 

The naiad, the madama of the courtyard’s name, gazes toward the windows of the Admiral’s Bedroom (so called because the last Marquis of Viana, who served as an Admiral of the Navy, used it as a guest room when his military buddies came to stay). The Neoclassical style of this intimate courtyard is enhanced by the wrought iron balcony and the Viana blue windows and doors.

If you visit during the summer, jasmine will be in full bloom, covering one of the walls and filling the air with its heady fragrance.

Main plants: mandarins, sweet violets, heartsease, bougainvillea, velvet groundsel and jasmine. 

The large garden at Viana was inspired by those in France. It’s composed of symmetrical, meticulously trimmed hedges designs.

The Garden

In an effort to keep up with the Joneses, or at least the rest of the nobility, the 7th Marquis of Villaseca, Diego Rafael Cabrera (1767-1816), added a French-inspired garden to the palace. The marquis purchased the homes of his neighbors, the counts of Torres Cabrera, and subsequently demolished them to create this expansive green space, covering over 13,000 square feet or 1,200 square meters. The garden includes some of the oldest botanical specimens at Viana, such as the towering white oak that stands over 82 feet (25 meters) high, believed to be about four centuries old.

The grotesque-style gazebo on one side of the garden struck us as a bit ominous.

Well-manicured box hedges form geometric shapes that divide the garden, with a circular pathway surrounding the central fountain. To the far right as you enter the garden is a peculiar structure covered in ivy. We saw other visitors crouching inside it, and I wouldn’t argue with its designation as a “grotesque-style” gazebo.

Main plants: citrus trees, white oaks, Delavay’s magnolias, oleanders, pomegranates, roses, velvet groundsel and German irises. 

Traditional Islamic gardens had pools to aerate and oxygenate the water.

Courtyard of the Pool

At the back of the garden is the Patio de la Alberca, or Courtyard of the Pool, a service area where gardeners work their magic behind the scenes. A greenhouse from the 1960s stands where, in the past, stuffed deer heads once hung — relics from hunts with King Alfonso XIII.

The pool is a more recent addition, transferred to its current location from the nearby Courtyard of the Well in the 1980s. Pools have essential roles in Arabic gardens, aside from offering picturesque reflections: Sunlight aerates and oxygenates the water, which, at Viana comes from the well, before it’s used in irrigation.

Main plants: citrus trees, centaurea, geraniums, carnations, white lantana and corals

The well at Viana connects to an underground stream. It supplies all the water at the palace, nourishing the numerous plants and feeding its fountains.

Courtyard of the Well

An additional service area, the Patio del Pozo, or the Courtyard of the Well, is the water source of the complex. The ancient well, a whitewashed hexagon with brick trim and an iron arch, connects to the Colodro stream, which flows underground and supplies enough water for the entire palace, including its fountains.

The Fuente de Doña Leonor, named for one of the daughters of the 2nd Marquis of Viana. 

Old earthenware jugs used as plant pots dot the courtyard amid bougainvillea and other plants. Look for the mustachioed face jutting out from one of the palace’s walls. It’s the Fuente de Doña Leonor, named for one of the daughters of the 2nd Marquis of Viana. 

Main plants: bougainvillea, chrysanthemums, jasmine, petunias, lantanas and redflush

Plumbago has been trained to grow up the wall in the Courtyard of the Gardeners.

Courtyard of the Gardeners

Rounding out the trio of service courtyards, this one gets its name from being where the gardeners store their tools. (Originally, it was called the Courtyard of the Dogs, for, one imagines, obvious reasons.) Its most noteworthy feature is the wall that forms a vertical garden of plumbago. A window that peers into the Courtyard of the Well, bordered in pretty geometric zellij tiles. In fact, this patio has the most tilework of any at the palace — see how many you can find.

Wally on the Courtyard of the Gardeners

This courtyard reflects a tradition of the middle class: a delightful mishmash of items placed around the patio. Unable to afford statues, the average Córdoban would scatter antiques, archeological finds, furniture, ceramics, plinths and more. Look closely and you’ll spot a church lintel. 

Main plants: plumbago, centaurea, roses, petunias and geraniums 

There’s a sense of quietude when you enter the Courtyard of the Chapel. It’s meant to be a place for introspection before worshiping in the small chapel.

Courtyard of the Chapel

Repetition. Harmony. Tranquility. These are the themes of the stately Patio de la Capilla, or Courtyard of the Chapel, designed to inspire introspection among the shadows of the citrus trees. If it feels a bit solemn, that’s the point: It leads to the private chapel, so silence is encouraged.

Back when this section of the palace was still owned by the counts of Torres Cabrera, this was their main courtyard. Created in the 17th century, it was incorporated into the Palacio de Viana 200 years later.

Archeological artifacts decorate the courtyard — evidence of a fad spurred on in part by the discovery of King Tut’s tomb in Egypt.

The altar of the family chapel

Archeology gained mainstream appeal in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, spurred on by the discoveries of Pompeii and King Tut’s tomb. Placing archeological pieces around your patio came into vogue. This courtyard reflects that trend, with some museum-worthy items placed about, including marble flooring and small statues from Ancient Rome, as well as pieces of columns. 

Main plants: citrus trees, bush lilies, primrose and mind-your-own-business

A beautiful blue and yellow zellij tiled fountain is the centerpiece of the Courtyard of the Archive.

Courtyard of the Archive

Built by the 6th Marchioness of Villaseca in the 1700s, this courtyard is an example of Cordoban Baroque (not the gilded excess found in Baroque churches you might be thinking of). The Baroque aspect is more about a line of vision leading into the Courtyard of the Bars.

This is actually one of the more minimal patios, with hedges along the edges and a blue and yellow tiled fountain in the center. The idea is not to compete with the whitewashed walls of the home and the iconic doors and windows in Viana blue. 

The archives are on the second floor, containing over 300,000 documents.

The second floor is where the palace’s archives are kept, giving the courtyard its name. Over 300,000 documents, dating back to the 12th century, are stored there.

Main plants: mandarins, sweet violets, bush lilies, calla lilies, ivy geraniums and night blooming jasmine

The gorgeous Courtyard of the Columns was created as an event space.

Courtyard of the Columns

The largest and newest of the complex, the Patio de las Columnas was added in the 1980s as a space to host events — everything from poetry readings to theatrical performances, from awards ceremonies to art exhibitions.

Duke dances gaily with the Romany cutout.

Wally strikes a pose with a sassy niño.

Sunlight illuminates the two-tone cobblestone patterns covering the ground, and a long, narrow pool with a chevron-patterned bottom anchors the center of the courtyard. On the left, 11 columns are linked by arches, while the tower of the Church of San Agustín rises just beyond the façade of a house supported by four columns. 

Main plants: jasmine, centaurea, bougainvillea and geraniums 

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Note: Much of this information comes from Courtyards of Viana, a visual guide you can purchase in the gift shop.

There are a couple of rooms you can peer into or wander through at the palace, to see the furnishings of the noble families who lived here.

A Glimpse Into the Lives of Nobility

Throughout our visit, we saw interior rooms filled with gorgeous furniture, objects and works of art, amassed over the five centuries it was inhabited by nobility.

This whimsical Baroque clock was one of the more distinctive pieces we saw at the Palacio de Viana.

The house has been open to the public since 1980. Whether you love gardens, architecture or both, the Palacio de Viana, rooted in local history and filled with flowers, is a must-see for all who visit Córdoba. –Wally

Palacio de Viana

Plaza de don Gome, 2
14001 Córdoba
Spain

 

The Mezquita: Córdoba’s Mesmerizing Mosque-Cathedral Hybrid

The Great Mosque of Córdoba, a UNESCO World Heritage site in Andalusia, endures as a monument to Spain’s cross-cultural harmony. 

Ancient Rome, Islamic Spain and Catholicism all come together in the breathtaking Mezquita in Córdoba.

It’s all about those arches. They seem to multiply into infinity, creating a seeming mirror maze of red and white latticework. It’s one of the iconic images that make Córdoba a must-visit stop on any trip to the south of Spain. 

The Mezquita in Córdoba is the perfect symbol of what Duke and I love about Andalusia. You have Roman influences, Islamic stylings and a Roman Catholic overlay. It’s a magical part of the world, where these three cultures blend together into architecture that can’t be found anywhere else but southern Spain. 

Case in point: Córdoba’s Great Mosque, known as the Mezquita, perpetually rising from its ashes like a phoenix over 10 centuries through a fascinating interplay of Roman, Islamic and Christian construction. 

“King Carlos I lamented his decision to allow the construction of the cathedral, saying, “They have taken something unique in all the world and destroyed it to build something commonplace.”

That’s a bit harsh.”

Parts of the massive structure’s exterior retain their Islamic architecture.

Abd ar-Rahman and the Start of the Mezquita

To understand Córdoba and the history of this amazing structure, we must travel to the Middle East and meet Abd ar-Rahman I, a member of the Umayyad dynasty in Damascus, Syria. Things aren’t going so well for the prince. His family was massacred by the Abbasids, rivals for Islamic rule, and Abd ar-Rahman fled, hiding out in the farthest corner of the Muslim world. That is, the south of Spain. 

He ended up in Córdoba. After wresting control of the city from the Visigoths, Abd ar-Rahman began eyeing the church of San Vicente, the largest in town. Not surprisingly, it had been been built upon the ruins of a Roman temple (you’ll notice a trend). Abd ar-Rahman purchased half of the church from the Christians to start, before eventually buying the rest. 

Then, in 786 CE, he tore down the church to construct his most important project: a massive cathedral mosque. 

The History of the Mezquita

The designers ran with those mesmerizing horseshoe arches, a style borrowed from the Visigoths, placing them atop recycled columns from the original Roman ruins. The distinctive red and white is a result of alternating brick and stone. The repetition of the arches was an attempt to evoke the infinite nature of Allah. I’d say they succeeded. 

“The aesthetics of the new Cordoban mosque, to which Muslims from far and wide throughout history would forever write odes, was typically Anadusian from the start: part adaptation of local, vernacular forms and part homage to Umayyad Syria, forever the source of hereditary legitimacy,” María Rosa Menocal writes in The Ornament of the World. 

“The Cordoba mosque continued to be built, and added to, for the next 200 years, until nearly the year 1000, but the characteristic look of the place, the horseshoe arches that sit piggybacked on each other, themselves dizzyingly doubled in alternations of red and white, were established from the start,” she continues.

Abd ar-Rahman II, great-grandson of his namesake (792-852), expanded the Great Mosque and added a new mihrab, a niche where Muslims face to pray. 

Then, Abd ar-Rahman III (891-961) enlarged the patio and built a new minaret, which stood 130 feet (40 meters) tall. 

All those red and white arches, designed to mimic infinity, are truly hypnotic.

His son, Al-Hakam (915-976), continued his father’s work — in fact, he’s responsible for the most impressive renovation of the space. He had new columns built, alternating pink and blue marble. Domes were added to let in light, while painted wood beams decorated the ceiling. The 11 naves were extended, and a larger qibla wall built (this is supposed to be the cue to facing Mecca, but more on that later). Oh, and there was a secret passage for the caliph to enter the mosque from his adjoining palace. 

Gorgeously painted wooden ceiling beams

At the end of the 10th century, Córdoba had become a bustling city. To accommodate the growing population, Almanzor (938-1002) made the courtyard bigger and added eight naves. These are the most austere of the bunch. Ultimately, the Mezquita could hold 40,000 worshippers. It was the largest mosque in the world at the time. 

It wasn’t just used for prayer, though; it was the center of Cordoban life. Judges made rulings near the mihrab. Teachers taught children under the arches. And traveling pilgrims were allowed to sleep there. 

Religious Reversal: From Mosque to Cathedral

In 1236, King Ferdinand III conquered Córdoba, returning the city to Christian rule. The mosque transitioned to the cathedral of Santa María, even as many Islamic elements endured. The Main Chapel is located under the skylight. 

King Henry II built the Royal Chapel to provide tombs for Castilian monarchs. This was done in the Mudéjar style, a delightful blend of Gothic and Islamic, using Muslim architects and carpenters. 

An area with pointed arches was built to give light and height for the choir as well as the church bigwigs. 

The structure remained largely the same until 1528, when King Carlos I gave permission to tear out the center of the mosque to build a proper cathedral, much to the dismay of many in Córdoba. Turns out he ended up agreeing with them. When the king visited, he lamented his decision, saying something along the lines of, “They have taken something unique in all the world and destroyed it to build something commonplace.” 

That might be a bit too harsh. This is still one impressive place of worship.

The choir stalls were built in the Baroque style of mahogany wood from Cuba. As in many Catholic churches, naves line the walls, containing small chapels. 

(FYI: Much of this history comes from a kid’s book we bought in town: La Mezquita de Córdoba by Manuel González Mestre, with fun illustrations by Jacobo Muñiz López.)

The Mihrab: Where Intricate Beauty Meets Spiritual Significance

While wandering the Mezquita, look for the mihrab. Among the monument’s ornate riches, none capture the cross-cultural transformation quite like the exquisite mihrab, located along the back wall on the right side. It’s considered the most sacred part of a mosque. 

Strangely enough, though, this qibla doesn’t actually indicate Mecca. Instead, it faces south. One theory is that it was a reference to the direction where Mecca would be from Abd ar-Rahman’s hometown of Damascus. Then again, it’s also thought that the streetscape didn’t allow for the qibla to face east as it should have, and instead was chosen to align with the Guadalquivir River.

When Córdoba was conquered by the Christians, they not only repurposed the mosque, they also recognized the mihrab’s beauty and spiritual importance — and actually preserved it! It’s a surprising moment where two faiths coexist within the same sacred space.

Intricate mosaics, geometric patterns and calligraphy intertwine to create a tapestry of colors and shapes that leaves visitors in awe. 

The Patio de los Naranjos: An Oasis of Tranquility

Chances are you’ll begin your exploration of the Mezquita in the Patio de los Naranjos, the Courtyard of the Orange Trees. For one thing, it’s where you line up to buy tickets. 

This tranquil oasis, with its fragrant blossoms and centuries of history, offers a contrast to the architectural wonders inside. And it’s not just orange trees — there are also olive trees, palms and cypresses. 

In its long history, this courtyard been a place for reflection, prayer and community gatherings. And there was a section where Muslims would perform their ablutions, or ritual cleansings, before entering the mosque. 

Visiting the Mezquita

Recognizing the Mezquita’s cultural and historical importance, UNESCO designated it a World Heritage Site in 1984. This status is a testament to the ongoing efforts to protect and preserve the architectural marvel, ensuring that future generations can continue to be inspired by its grandeur.

Pro tip: The early bird gets the arch. 

We went early in the morning to see the Mezquita before mass was held. It’s free, so you don’t need to bother with tickets. (If you don’t go at this time, be sure to get your tickets as soon as possible. They cost 13 euros. I think it’s a good idea to book a day in advance if you have the time, but most travel sites say you don’t need to worry about it selling out. Call me paranoid.)

We figured the pre-mass time was a good way to escape the massive tour groups that would invade the space later in the day. To do so, you don’t go through the Patio de los Naranjos as you normally would. You enter through the Puerta de Santa Catalina. The one downside is that you don’t have a lot of time to explore. Get there right at 8:30, cuz security guards will kick you out around 9:20 so mass can begin. 

This trick is considered the worst-kept secret in Córdoba, so keep in mind that word has gotten out. But it’s still supposed to be better than most other times. If you can’t make it early, or want more time, try booking the end of the day.

More Metamorphoses: Temple to Church to Mosque to Cathedral 

Like the ceaselessly repurposed structures within its walls, the Mezquita represents the fluid nature of Spain’s cultural and religious history. As both mosque and church, this house of worship symbolizes Andalusia’s legacy as a place where Ancient Rome, Islam and Catholicism converge. For over 10 centuries, the awe-inspiring Mezquita has shifted shapes and uses but has endured. That’s typical of this wondrous part of Spain. –Wally

The Richardson Hotel: A Night in a Former Insane Asylum

The hotel brings new life to a Buffalo, New York landmark. But does it deliver? 

I knew we had to stay at this iconic Buffalo building, an architectural landmark dating back to the late 1800s. 

I can still remember the clusters of vacant but majestic buildings of the Buffalo Psychiatric Center, bordering my alma mater. When I was an art student at Buffalo State College in the late 1980s, it had become a daily ritual for me. After parking my car, I would gaze beyond the chain-link fence at the fortress-like structures, imagining the possibilities of their reuse. That was over three decades ago.

In recent years, my dream of exploring the historic national landmark has finally come true. The grounds of the former mental asylum have been reintegrated into the city’s urban fabric and are now known as the Richardson Olmsted Campus. 

“When I shared that we were staying in a former mental asylum with my friends, they quipped, “Aren’t you worried it’s haunted?””

As a Buffalo native returning to visit family in Ellicottville, New York, I wanted Wally and me to add an extra day to revisit my old stomping grounds and stay overnight at the Richardson Hotel. In its previous iteration, it operated as the upscale Hotel Henry, which opened in 2017 but, due to the impact of the COVID-19 pandemic, closed its doors four years later in 2021. 

The 88-room hotel occupies the central administration building and two adjacent wards, which are dwarfed by a pair of twin, verdigris roofed towers, a hue somewhere between green and blue. Additionally, it’s within walking distance of Elmwood Avenue and three world-class museums: the Buffalo AKG Art Museum, the Burchfield Penney Art Center and the Buffalo History Museum, the only remaining building from Buffalo’s 1901 Pan-American Exposition. 

The original campus was 203 acres but is now 42. The largest reduction in size occurred in 1927, when half of the land was used to develop Buffalo State College, Duke’s alma mater.

The Architecture of Madness

But first, here’s a bit about the landmark’s backstory. In June 1871, construction began on a grand new civic project: the Buffalo State Asylum for the Insane. Architect Henry Hobson Richardson designed the innovative facility away from the city center, on 203 acres of farmland, which eventually grew to include 11 buildings. Its parklike grounds were planned by the foremost landscape architects of the nation, Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux, whose Greensward Plan won them the commission to design New York City’s Central Park.

The monumental Richardsonian Romanesque asylum looked more like a stately manor than a state hospital. It’s anchored by a large central administrative building with two symmetrical sets of wards extending horizontally in an orderly V-shaped formation, like a flock of geese in flight. Its general layout was determined by Joseph Gray, head of the existing State Lunatic Asylum in Utica, New York, and based on the Kirkbride Plan, a geometric system of asylum architecture developed by 19th century American psychiatrist Thomas Story Kirkbride. 

Patients were segregated by gender and condition: one ward for male patients and the other for females. Those who required the most care were placed at the farthest ends of the institution’s wards. This was done to ensure that patients received the most appropriate care based upon the nature and seriousness of their illness. 

Olmsted applied his skills as a landscape architect to establish a buffer between the asylum and the outside world, aligning with Kirkbride’s philosophy of “moral treatment,” which advocated for a more humane approach to mental health care. He suggested to Richardson that the buildings should be oriented to face southeast, which would enable the spacious corridors to be  filled with natural light. You see, the asylum opened on November 15, 1880 — two years before the commercial introduction of electricity. 

Additionally, Olmsted surrounded the buildings with expansive lawns and trees, fostering a connection between the facility’s interior and its surrounding landscape, both of which were considered crucial for patients’ recovery.

Duke loves his detail shots — and this one is of the Minton tile inside the south entrance portico, the original entrance to the central building. 

A New Legacy 

Although the building was designated a National Historic Landmark in 1986, it wasn’t until two decades later that the nonprofit Richardson Center Corporation (RCC) was formed and subsequently intervened. Their objective was to own and redevelop the architectural treasure. The RCC raised funds to adapt a portion of the site, and the state of New York contributed $76 million to help jumpstart the ambitious project.

Following a seven-year conservation process, the public-private partnership focused on phase one, to reimagine the centuries-old complex by regreening the nine-acre South Lawn and adaptively reusing the central pavilion and two adjoining wings of the Medina sandstone building. TenBerke of NYC, Flynn Battaglia Architects of Buffalo, and Goody Clancy of Boston teamed up to undertake the overhaul, resulting in a boutique hotel, conference center and permanent home for the Lipsey Architecture Center, named for the late Stanford Lipsey, the former publisher of the Buffalo News and a champion for the city’s architectural revival. 

A key aspect of the redesign involved moving the main entrance to the north side of the four-story central administrative building, and enclosing it within a contemporary transparent steel and glass box. 

Fun fact: During renovation, the addition attached to the north side of the central building was demolished, revealing the original terracotta-colored grout between the blocks of muddy pink Medina sandstone. Don’t forget to pause and admire this before entering the hotel. 

When I shared my excitement about staying at the Richardson with my friends, they quipped, “Aren’t you worried it’s haunted?” In reality, the only apparitions I found were some of the aesthetic “improvements” made by the hotel’s new owners. 

The hallways at the Richardson feature warm globe lights and distinctive carpeting that evokes the decay of the abandoned wards.

Staying at the Richardson 

After the closure of Hotel Henry, Douglas Development purchased the property and rebranded it as the Richardson Hotel (which reopened on March 3, 2023). While I can appreciate the new owners’ intentions to establish their own identity, they had acquired a timeless and restrained turnkey property. Why junk it up?

For me, the addition of the porte-cochère was disappointing and feels out of place. It detracts from the commanding lines of the sandstone façade and obstructs artist Dániel Shafer’s graceful, rounded Spirit of Community sculpture. Incidentally, the addition of a herd of Buffalo statues doesn’t help. It’s not surprising, then, that the outdoor terrace that used to be above the atrium was dismantled — after all, who would want to overlook a canopy covered in corrugated steel? 

I’ll say it: I’m not a fan of the porte-cochère, which feels more appropriate for a gas station than a boutique hotel. 

As we entered the atrium, I noticed that the elegant, low-slung seating areas outside of the Lipsey Architecture Center were strangely cordoned, as if to say, “Keep off.” And when I looked up at the modern double glass and metal staircases leading to reception, I was overwhelmed by the number of vinyl decals indicating the check-in location. (Note: This abundance of signage was a recurring theme throughout the hotel). 

I saw the sign…and then some! The overabundance of wayfinding signage at the Richardson made it feel cheap.

I was eager to appreciate the scale and volume of Richardson’s design, but what I discovered were walls covered with oversized canvas photo prints of Buffalo landmarks. There were so many that my eyes didn’t know where to focus. The refurbished grand staircase should have been the centerpiece of the lobby, but instead, had to contend with the decorative stencil work uncovered during renovation and the aforementioned wall art. 

During renovation, Douglas Development uncovered decorative stencil work and replicated it throughout the hotel.

The reception desk is tucked under this impressive staircase.

I can get behind the idea of celebrating Buffalo and its architectural legacy, and I have no issue with historically accurate stenciling — but perhaps they should have considered choosing one or the other, not both. If the goal is to pay homage to the city’s landmarks, condensing it into a gallery wall could serve as a more fitting approach. 

The richly patterned and colored tile flooring in this curved connector passage was made by Minton, Hollins & Co. in Staffordshire, England. 

Considering the national reputation of nearby art galleries, such as the Burchfield Penney and AKG, I found myself wishing Douglas Development continued the rotating art program that Hotel Henry established with Resource:Art. This would encourage visitors to explore the hotel’s public spaces, serve as an additional draw and solidify the hotel’s presence within the city’s museum corridor. 

At least the former asylum’s lofty corridors retain their grand scale. The palatial hallways are anchored with wall-to-wall carpeting in a palette of blues and greens. This color scheme could be a nod to Buffalo’s heyday as a Great Lakes port or the peeling paint of the wards that have yet to be restored. I particularly liked the elegant yet simple circular pendants with milk glass globes suspended from the ceiling. 

Just what the doctor ordered: Our room was cozy, uncluttered and bright.

Our Room: A Cozy Queen for a Couple of Queens

We stayed in a Cozy Queen room on the second floor. I had read that most of the hotel's guest rooms were created by merging three single-occupancy rooms, which were only 11 x 9 feet wide. And staying true to its name, our room was compact and uncluttered, with a queen-size bed, two nightstands, a desk and en-suite bathroom. Given the limited space, a built-in stainless steel rack and cheerful bright yellow ball coat hooks efficiently served in lieu of a full-size dresser. 

The wall art above the upholstered headboard was the focal point of the room, featuring a striking black and white architectural detail of the landmark. Not only was it cool but it also served a practical purpose. The panels are constructed from an eco-friendly noise-reducing wool and wood fiber material. 

Café Calvert was the perfect place to start our day. They offer caffeinated and non-caffeinated beverages, as well as an assortment of delicious sweet and savory baked goods. Tell Jenna we say hi!

Onsite Dining at the Richardson Hotel

Visitors can get their caffeine fix and a bite at Café Calvert, which is exactly what Wally and I did after we dropped our bags off in our room. The café sources its beans from local roaster Overwinter Coffee. In addition to an iced latte, Wally and I shared a peach and blueberry muffin and a cheddar and bacon scone, both of which were delicious. Jenna, the barista who served us, was friendly and helpful. When I asked her for a local lunch spot to go the following afternoon, she suggested Remedy House in the hip Five Corners neighborhood, a highlight of our trip. 

We also checked out Bar Vaux, the cocktail lounge located next to Café Calvert. I had the Across the Pacific and Wally, the Hobson Sour. We also shared a tasty thin-crust mushroom pizza. Despite its high ceilings, the space feels intimate. 

Get a pizza (and great cocktails) at Bar Vaux.

Overall, our stay was pleasant but fell short of my expectations for a luxury boutique hotel. There was no welcome book, TV guide or menus for the hotel restaurants in our room. Additionally, only one of us could use the hotel WiFi; if both of us had wanted to, we would have incurred an additional fee. 

The building features rounded passages between buildings — originally designed to deter putting beds in the hallways.

The upstairs lounge is a nice spot to hang out.

With that said, the hotel has been open for six months and celebrated its grand opening on September 19. It’s my hope that Douglas Development has plans to address cosmetic changes using a more discerning eye and introduce in-room amenities in the future, to fully meet the expectations of a four-star hotel experience. 

Buildings aren’t made like this anymore — let alone converted into hotels. So it’s well worth a stop for food and drinks at Bar Vaux or a visit to the Buffalo Architecture Center to see this gem up close, even if you can’t experience an overnight stay. –Duke 

The Richardson Hotel

444 Forest Avenue 
Buffalo, New York 14213
USA

 

Frank Lloyd Wright and Edgar J. Kaufmann: The Collaboration That Became Fallingwater

Dive into the fascinating story behind Fallingwater, from its geological origins to its current status as a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

The Kaufmanns on one of the balconies at Fallingwater: E.J., Junior and Liliane

Unlike our visit to Graycliff, another Frank Lloyd Wright-designed home, where the weather forecast called for rain but miraculously cleared up by the time we arrived, the conditions at Fallingwater were not so kind. But the steady mist-like drizzle coming down on the rooftop covering the Visitors Center boardwalk didn’t dampen our anticipation for the afternoon In-Depth Guided Tour of Fallingwater. The nonprofit Western Pennsylvania Conservancy (WPC) offers various tours, which include a one-hour guided house tour, two-hour in-depth tour, brunch tour and sunset tour.

Pro tip: Book your tickets at least two weeks prior to guarantee admission to this popular attraction. Weekends fill up quickly. We booked ours about a month in advance.

Our group gathered in the Visitors Center around our docent, who welcomed us to the UNESCO World Heritage Site and introduced himself as Rod. He asked where everyone was from and if anyone had been to any Wright-designed homes or buildings before. As we shared our stories, it became clear that we were among other individuals who held a reverence for the architect’s prolific and unmistakable style. 

Kaufmann’s was once a legendary (and massive) department store in Pittsburgh. It’s now a Target.

Brought to You by Pittsburgh’s Big Department Store

Edgar J. Kaufmann and his wife, Liliane, the couple who commissioned Fallingwater, were also the owners of a popular Pittsburgh department store located at the corner of 5th Avenue and Smithfield Street. Like Marshall Field’s in Chicago, Kaufmann’s was a regional destination for shoppers to discover the latest in fashion, art and design.

In 2005, Federated acquired the store and continued to operate as Macy’s until 2015, when it closed its doors for good. The first floor has since been transformed into a Target, which opened in the summer of 2022. 

The Kaufmanns were wealthy, but they were also beloved in southwestern Pennsylvania. Their department store brought good taste and good design to the area at prices that people could actually afford. They were popular for their business model: They’d rather sell a hundred items at a penny profit each than sell one item for a dollar profit.

The dramatic cantilevers at Fallingwater are Wright’s way of mirroring the sandstone outcroppings in the area.

From Sea to Timeworn Sandstone: A Brief Geological History of the Site 

Rod offered us green umbrellas to take with us on our journey. “From experience,” he added, “make sure it works. Our umbrellas lead a pretty tough life here.” The color of the umbrellas complemented the natural surroundings, a detail that Wright himself would have undoubtedly appreciated. As we followed Rod down the gravel path leading to Fallingwater, he spoke about the geologic history of the site.

He stopped and gestured to the lush, hilly landscape before us. “As we walk down towards the house, I’d like to provide a brief timeline for you,” he began. “We’re standing at 1,400 feet above sea level due to a cataclysmic event that occurred over 400 million years ago.” He continued, “The tremendous pressure of the continental plates colliding caused the Earth’s surface to fold and buckle, creating the long, winding ridges of the Appalachian Mountains.

“However, 600 million years ago, this region was at the bottom of a sandy, shallow inland sea. Over millions of years, the inland sea drained, and the mountains were worn down by wind, weather and water,” Rod said. “The sedimentary deposit that was left behind was compacted and compressed to form Pottsville sandstone.”

Wright first visited the site of Fallingwater with Edgar Kaufmann Sr. to examine the natural landscape. He saw the weathered, horizontal lines of the sandstone outcroppings and referred to this as the “earth line” — and it became the inspiration for the layered stone walls and cantilevered terraces that mirror the natural environment.

Cantilever, you ask? It’s something that projects horizontally beyond its support, like a diving board, firmly anchored at one end and floating free at the other. You’ll see they feature prominently in the home’s design. 

One of the original wood cabins at what became Camp Kaufmann

Setting Up Camp at Bear Run

The Kaufmanns would flee Pittsburgh’s sweltering summers and infamously smoky air for the rolling hills and clear streams of Fayette County, Pennsylvania. In 1916, E.J. Kaufmann, as Edgar Sr. was known, began leasing a parcel of land at Bear Run from the Pittsburgh Freemasons. The grounds included the former Syria Country Club lodge, which E.J. renamed Camp Kaufmann.

Every summer, a third of Kaufmann’s department store employees would visit and stay in one of the many cabins that dotted the property. The camp was a place for employees to relax and enjoy the outdoors. They would hike, swim, fish and play games.

Not a bad perk: Employees of Kaufmann’s department store could go to the camp in the woods and swim under the waterfall.

Used with permission from the Western Pennsylvania Conservancy

In 1926, Kaufmann’s department store purchased the land and cabins from the Freemasons. However, the Great Depression forced it to quickly get out of the camp business. So, in 1933, E.J. assumed ownership of the land with the intent of building a modern weekend home. That same year, he showered his mistress Josephine Bennett Waxman with a quarter-million dollars’ worth of diamond and platinum jewels. The affair fizzled, but made headlines when E.J. attempted to return the jewelry to rival department store Horne’s, which sued him for non-payment.

Edgar jr. (left) worked for Wright (center) at Taliesin in Wisconsin. He introduced the architect to his father — and a beautiful partnership was begun.

As fate would have it, his artistically inclined son, Edgar jr., was studying with Wright at the Taliesin Fellowship in Spring Green, Wisconsin. During that time, Junior introduced his parents to the architect, and E.J. and Liliane decided to hire Wright to design their new home.

When Wright was hired to design Fallingwater, E.J. also commissioned him to create his executive office on the top floor of the flagship department store in Pittsburgh. It’s now on display at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. 

Used with permission from the Western Pennsylvania Conservancy

A Patronage of Epic Scale 

The Kaufmanns and Wright were kindred spirits. They shared Wright’s conviction that good design could transform the lives of those it touched and believed that architecture should be in harmony with the natural world. Wright was a passionate advocate for organic architecture. He believed that buildings should be designed to complement their natural surroundings, and he often used local materials and natural forms in his designs. He once said, “I believe in God, only I spell it Nature.”

By the time E.J. met the architect, Wright was 67 years old and had not completed a major project in a decade. He was widely considered a has-been by architectural critics — but Fallingwater would mark a turning point in his career.

Talk about a comeback: Wright and Fallingwater on the cover of Time

The woodland retreat in rural southwestern Pennsylvania had already gained international prominence before it was even completed. In January 1938, photographs taken by John McAndrew were exhibited at the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) in New York City and subsequently published in Architectural Forum magazine. Additionally, Wright was featured on the cover of Time with his drawing of Fallingwater behind him, proclaiming it to be his most beautiful work.

After the success of Fallingwater, Wright’s career took off again. He went on to design over 400 projects, including the Guggenheim Museum in New York. Of these, approximately 200 were built, and about 79 have since been demolished or destroyed by fire. Wright died in 1959 at the age of 91.

Wright and E.J. maintained a lifelong friendship and collaborated on many projects, although only three of them were ever realized: Fallingwater, the guest house and Edgar’s executive office.

Not without my dachshund! Liliane liked to bring her six dogs on weekends at Fallingwater.

The Kaufmanns’ main home, La Tourelle, was an Anglo-Norman style country estate in Fox Chapel, an affluent suburb of Pittsburgh. The family had two options to reach their weekend home. They could take a train from Pittsburgh to the depot at the bottom of Bear Run, where the creek flows into the Youghiogheny River. (The last time the B&O line stopped here was in 1975). Or they could be chauffeured by car. Liliane preferred the latter because she liked to travel with her six long-haired show dachshunds.

Before his death, Edgar jr. entrusted Fallingwater to the Western Pennsylvania Conservancy so it would always remain open to the public for all time.

Fallingwater: A Landmark Legacy

The house that has become an architectural legend was home to tragedy, though. On September 7, 1952, Liliane died of a sleeping pill overdose at Fallingwater at the age of 64. Three years later, E.J. died of bone cancer at 69. Their son, Edgar jr., inherited Fallingwater. 

The Kaufmanns didn’t have the best marriage. Edgar’s infidelities may have led Liliane to take her own life by overdoing on pills at Fallingwater.

Junior worked at MoMA from 1941 to 1955 and was an adjunct professor of architecture and art history at Columbia University in New York. 

In 1963, he entrusted the house and surrounding 5,100 acres of property, along with a $500,000 endowment, to the WPC to protect, conserve and, most importantly, assure that the home remains open to the public in perpetuity. 

Junior was gay and had a long-term relationship with Paul Mayén, a Spanish architect and industrial designer. Mayén's influence can be seen throughout the sunburst-shaped visitors pavilion, which was built under his supervision in 1980 by the Pittsburgh-based architectural firm Curry, Martin & Highberger. The complex complements its natural surroundings and makes great use of materials such as cedar, glass and concrete. I think Wright would have approved.

Paul Mayén, Edgar jr. and friend on the west terrace at Fallingwater. The men had a relationship for over 30 years.

Used with permission from the Western Pennsylvania Conservancy. 

Edgar jr. loved Fallingwater and when he visited Pittsburgh, he would often come and secretly lead tours. At the end of each, Rod told us, Junior would shock the group by asking, “Well, what do you think of my house?” –Duke

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RELATED: Frida, Diego and Fallingwater

Frida Kahlo visited Fallingwater (and seduced a fellow guest there!).

Learn more about her and Diego Rivera’s connection to the Kaufmanns and their iconic home.

The Charnley-Persky House in Chicago: America’s First Modern Home?

Louis Sullivan and Frank Lloyd Wright collaborated on this sleek, minimal home that defied the ostentatiousness of the Gilded Age. Step back in time and tour this innovative but little-known architectural gem.

Imagine what people thought of a home like this — sleek, modern, horizontal — at a time when Victorians were all the rage. Photo by Leslie Schwartz

When dealing with such legendary icons of the architectural world as Louis Sullivan and Frank Lloyd Wright, it’s not surprising that towering egos and intense rivalry come into play. But with the iconic Charnley-Persky House in Chicago’s Gold Coast neighborhood, who actually deserves the accolades?

“Wright wrote that he had designed the Charnley-Persky House entirely on his own.

The claim couldn’t be refuted, as Sullivan had passed away, and the firm’s records had burned in a fire. ”

Helen Charnley

The Charnleys Want a “Country” Home

Let’s start at the beginning to try to unravel this mystery. In 1891, Sullivan, 34, and his then-23-year-old apprentice, Wright, teamed up to design a residential masterpiece on Astor Street for their wealthy clients, James and Helen Charnley.

The couple were members of the one-percenters of the Gilded Age. James was a banker who made his fortune in lumber, and Helen’s father was president of the Illinois Central Railroad. 

At the time, Sullivan and his partner, Dankmar Adler, were basically the cool kids of the architecture world. They had designed the Auditorium Theater Building in 1889, which is still world-renowned for its acoustics. Business was good.

While many of Adler & Sullivan’s 180-some commissions were for commercial spaces, they also designed about 60 residences. Unfortunately, most of them are no longer standing. In fact, the Charnley-Persky House is the only residence designed by Sullivan that you can still tour today.

So how did the Charnleys manage to snag Sullivan as their architect? Well, it turns out that James’ brother, Albert, was an executive at the Illinois Central Railroad. As our guide, Jean, joked, “The rich like to hang out with other rich people.” 

Adler & Sullivan’s architectural drawing of the James Charnley home

But why did the Charnleys choose this location? They were ahead of the curve. While the Gold Coast is now an affluent neighborhood, at the time it wasn’t exactly a hot spot. In fact, even though it’s not that far north of downtown, it was considered the countryside.

Three-quarters of a mile in one direction, you would reach the Chicago River. Go three-quarters of a mile in the other direction, and you’d find yourself in a notorious slum charmingly known as Little Hell. It was gnamed for the smell of sulfur from the coal gas furnaces that permeated the air. It was so dangerous that even the police wouldn’t go there, Jean told us. (What did that neighborhood eventually become? The infamous Cabrini Green housing project.)

So how did this land become prime real estate? Well, Potter Palmer, Chicago’s richest resident at the time, had a lot to do with it. He built his own home on the corner of Lake Shore Drive, spending a whopping $1 million back in 1882. The house was called “the Castle” for its size and design. 

“Of course, it raised the value of all the land around it,” Jean said. “And so it started to get developed very quickly after that.”

You can see why the Palmer home was called the Castle. It helped make the Gold Coast a hot new housing market.

Sadly, no one could afford to keep up the Castle, and it was razed in 1950. 

Before that, this area was owned by the archdiocese, with parts of it acting as a Catholic cemetery, and the only other building in sight was the archbishop’s residence.

The Charnleys’ first home in the undeveloped Gold Coast neighborhood of Chicago was a site of heartbreak. Note the Palmer Castle under construction in the background.

The Charnleys Join the Neighborhood 

The Charnleys built their first home on Division and Lake Shore Drive, but lost their two young daughters (ages 4 and 6) to diphtheria shortly after moving in. The memories of that house weren’t happy, so they decided to have this one built instead. It was never intended to be a family home. They had larger homes in the suburbs of Lake Forest and Evanston, so this was simply their pied-à-terre in the city, Jean explained.

Even today, it stands out from its neighbors with its modern design, a product of Sullivan’s experimental phase.

After the Charnley’s departure, the house went through several owners, including the Waller family, who had a member living there until 1969. Skidmore, Owings & Merrill (SOM) bought the house next for the headquarters of the Chicago Institute for Architecture and Urbanism and restored it. 

“They didn’t stay here long. But fortunately, they had deep pockets,” Jean said. “So they were able to restore the structure to the way it was, which no private owner could do before them.”

Philanthropist Seymour Persky later bought the house and let the Society of Architectural Historians (SAH) move their headquarters there from Philadelphia. This allowed the house to continue to stand and be appreciated for its architectural significance. As a token of its gratitude, the society added Persky’s name to the home. 

Bustling State Street in the 1890s, when Chicago was one of the fastest-growing cities in the world

Gilded Age Chicago

To put the time period into context, Chicago underwent exponential growth and development during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. 

In 1880 the city’s population was 500,000; in 1890 it had doubled to 1 million; and in 1910 it had doubled yet again to 2.2 million. 

“At that time, the turn of that century, it was the fastest-growing city in the world,” Jean said. “Of course, that’s a thing of the past now. But it was a very new, vibrant, lively, energetic city with lots of money, lots of wealth, lots of disease, lots of extremes.”

Rudyard Kipling visited Chicago around this time and declared, “I urgently desire never to see it again. It is inhabited by savages.” Rude. 

In 1889, the Chicago Sanitary District was formed to reverse the flow of the Chicago River, which had been dumping waste into Lake Michigan and contaminating the city’s drinking water. A New York Times article from the time said that the water in the Chicago River “now resembles liquid.” (Sorry, St. Louis!)

As Jean pointed out, the tail end of the Gilded Age in Chicago was a time of juxtaposition, when typhoid epidemics and inaugural symphony concerts were happening simultaneously. 

Start your tour of the Charnley-Persky House Museum where the servants used to spend most of their time, in the basement. Photo by Leslie Schwartz

The Basement/Visitors center of the Charnley-Persky House 

Our tour of the Charnley-Persky House began in the basement, which is the visitors center. This floor was strictly for the servants’ use, so the family had no reason to come down here.

The basement contains a kitchen, boiler room, laundry room, bathroom, root cellar and butler’s pantry with a dumbwaiter.

The soapstone sink has a concrete basin. “I think the reason it’s still here is because it’s too heavy to move,” Jean speculated. “Some things are just too inconvenient to destroy.”

Overall, the house presented some design challenges, starting with its narrow footprint. It has 4,500 square feet spread across four floors — but it’s only 25 feet deep from one wall to the other. It’s essentially designed in the space of a row house, but with the entrance on the long side instead of the short side. 

What’s impressive is how Sullivan and Wright got creative with elements of the home’s design. Originally, another house was planned to be built against the back wall, so there were no windows on that side. The architects added interior windows to bring light into the space. How sweet of them to consider the welfare of the servants.

The Charnleys were lucky (err, rich) enough to have hot water in the home. When it came to heating, Sullivan and Wright went against the norm by hanging the hot water radiator below the floor — and saved a lot of room in the dining room upstairs.

This genius feature hides the radiator and saves all that space from making the dining room above more cramped. Photo by Leslie Schwartz

There’s a door off to the side of the main room that leads to the coal cellar. It’s actually built under the sidewalk, and a manhole out front offered access for delivery men to shovel coal in.

Higher-end Roman bricks were used on the front of the home, with cheaper Chicago common bricks at the back. Photo by Leslie Schwartz

The Façade of the Charnley-Persky House

Most of the homes in the Gold Coast neighborhood are grandiose 19th century Victorian row houses with sharp vertical lines and elaborate ornamentation on their windows, doors, porches — basically everywhere. Many are made of rusticated brownstone and sport an asymmetrical design.

So one thing that sets the Charnley-Persky House apart is its horizontal layout.

“There’s nothing like it anywhere around here — even now,” Jean pointed out. 

Chicago was a brick-making center in the 1890s, manufacturing about 600 million bricks a year. This house reflects that. On the back side, Chicago common brick was used. Uneven in color and crumbly, they were made from clay in the Chicago River. They were also much cheaper than other types of brick. However, the front and sides of the home feature more expensive Roman brick and natural limestone.

The front door of the house. You can see the importance of horizontal planes and symmetry in the home’s design. Photo by Leslie Schwartz

In the design, Sullivan exaggerated the horizontal planes. The natural limestone goes all the way across the front section and the side. There’s a balcony that spans the front. It has pillars, but they are short and squat. The Roman brick is narrow. And you can’t see the low-hipped roof at all.

The design is notable for its lack of ornamentation around the windows and doors. “Sullivan wanted the mass of the building itself to be present to us, and not to cover it up with all kinds of frills and doodads — that’s the architectural term,” Jean joked.

Also in stark contrast to its neighbors, the house is completely symmetrical, with the front door and balcony in the center and the same number of windows on each side. 

The house is devoid of decoration, aside from the metalwork on the balcony, which features some of Sullivan’s recurring motifs. Photo by Leslie Schwartz

Looking at the design of the Charnley-Persky House, there are a few key motifs worth noting. One of these is the incised pattern on the balcony, which can be seen throughout the building, including the front door. Sullivan loved to incorporate organic shapes and patterns into his work, and he often referred to the pointed oval motif as a seed pod. 

“He put them on every single thing he designed,” Jean said. “Everything, even down to the tombs in Graceland Cemetery.”

Sullivan was certainly ahead of his time with this house. He was so proud of it that he advertised it in architecture magazines in England, promoting it as the first American modern design. 

Louis Sullivan, on the left, most likely designed the Charnley-Persky House — but that didn’t stop Wright, on the right, from taking credit later in life.

The Sullivan and Wright Controversy 

Wright was working as a draftsman for Sullivan at the time the Charnley-Persky House was built. Evidence shows that Adler and Sullivan, well-established architects at the peak of their business, would design the entire plan of the house, including the decoration and wood choices. Then, Wright would fill in some of the details. 

“So, while there are some unique elements that may be Wright’s additions, the overall design was likely a collaboration between the three architects,” Jean informed us. 

But that’s not what Wright claimed. In his 1932 autobiography, Wright wrote that he had designed the house entirely on his own. And the claim couldn’t be refuted, as Sullivan had passed away in 1924, and the firm’s records had burned in a fire. 

“Sullivan and Wright were very close, until they weren’t,” Jean said. “They both had very big egos.”

Wright left Adler & Sullivan in 1893. He claimed he was fired for moonlighting, building other houses on his own.

“But evidence suggests Sullivan didn’t care,” Jean went on. “I think Sullivan said, ‘You’re fired.’ And Wright said, ‘You can’t fire me — I quit.’ It was one of those situations. I think Wright had reached a point where he had the skills and the confidence to leave and go on his own.”

Jean added that Sullivan was an alcoholic and very difficult to get along with, while Wright was brilliant and visionary. 

The narrow entrance hall at the home, where the fireplace takes center stage. Photo by Leslie Schwartz

Inside the Charnley-Persky House: The Foyer

Step inside, and the first thing you notice is the foyer fireplace, which boasts original mosaic designs that echo flickering flames. The flue is hidden underneath the stairs and goes up the back. The fireplace has no mantel, which allows for an unobstructed view and emphasizes those horizontal lines that are a hallmark of Sullivan’s style.

Sullivan incorporated elements of the Arts and Crafts movement, which highlighted craftsmanship and natural materials. The use of wood as the main decorative element and the incorporation of organic motifs, such as oak leaves and acorns, were typical of this style.

Wide, expensive white oak panels feature prominently. Remember, Charnley was in the lumber biz. 

Those skylights illuminating the stairwell and landings is something you’d typically find in commercial buildings — not a family home. Photo by Leslie Schwartz

The design of the Charnley-Persky House reflects Sullivan’s experience with commercial buildings, as well as his innovative approach to residential design. The atrium and skylight, which were more commonly found in commercial buildings, allowed for natural light and air to flow through the home. This was a departure from the typical dark, closed-off interiors of Victorian homes.

To either side of the door are cozy alcoves. The Charnleys didn’t leave any letters, diaries or photos, so we have no idea how the family used these spaces. However, there’s only one sitting room, so it’s possible that these alcoves served as small reception areas for guests before entering the dining room.

No one’s quite sure what the Charnleys used the alcoves to either side of the front door for. Photo by Leslie Schwartz

According to the 1900 census, the Charnley family had two live-in Swedish servant girls. “You know,” Jean said. “You’re a servant girl until you’re at least 80.” The “girls” did the cooking, cleaning and everything else that needed to be done around the house.

The dining room at the Charnley-Persky House was much less elaborate than most in the Gilded Age. Photo by David Schalliol

The Dining Room

Wide, beaded paneling was all the rage back then. You could buy strips of beaded wood and simply glue them onto a surface. Sullivan kept the room plain and modern, aside from the fireplace. The richly carved mahogany mantle with a stylized four-point seed pod motif, surrounded by a vegetal pattern, is set above African rose marble tiles imported from England.

“I don’t know why they’re not from Chicago. We made everything else,” Jean mused. “But anyway, that’s where they’re from.”

The rose marble tiles of the fireplace in the dining room came from Britain, while pretty much everything else was locally sourced.

The buffet isn’t original, but the woodwork suggests that there was probably a built-in piece of furniture there at some point. So the folks at SOM custom-designed one to fit in. Look closely: Its design mimics that of the house exterior.

Unusual for the more-is-more Gilded Age, there are no parquet floors or ledges to be filled with statues, crystal and the like.

The Charnleys were quiet folk who didn’t entertain much. In addition to the deaths of their daughters, James was diagnosed with Bright’s disease in the mid-1890s. This chronic kidney inflammation had no treatment or cure — it was a one-way ticket to the grave. He survived only 10 years after his diagnosis.

Unfortunately, the Charnleys couldn’t catch a break. James’ brother and sister-in-law ran off with $100,000 from the Fourth Presbyterian Church. Their two sons felt such shame at their parents’ actions that they both committed suicide.

“Money really cannot buy you everything,” Jean said.

But there’s a glimmer of happiness in this sad tale. Enter Seymour Persky, the philanthropist who swooped in and saved the mansion from demolition. He was a lawyer-turned-developer who made a fortune and then dedicated his life to collecting architectural artifacts, bless his heart.

The servants would do prep work in the butler’s pantry, where they could stay out of sight but still keep an eye on how dinner was progressing.

Off the dining room is the butler’s pantry. My favorite detail: the narrow window in the door, where the help could keep an eye on the diners’ progress. 

“During the Victorian era, they say children should be seen and not heard. I think servants were supposed to be neither seen nor heard,” Jean said. “They just sort of floated in when they needed to take a plate away.”

The Charnleys’ sitting room is now home to the Society of Architectural Historians library.

The Sitting Room

The highlight of the sitting room (now the SAH library) is the gorgeous tiger stripe white oak paneling. It’s called “tiger stripe” because it looks like, well, a tiger’s stripes. The wood didn’t come cheap. It’s cut from quarter-sawn wood, which is basically like slicing a citrus fruit into wedges. This is wasteful, but it brings out the beautiful and distinct grain pattern. Keep in mind, though: Charnley was a lumber baron, and wood was certainly an area where he could splurge.

At the time, the biggest commodities in Chicago were meat, wheat and lumber. While at least 200 lumber schooners entered the Chicago River every day, the industry had started to decline. The northern forests of white oak in Michigan and Wisconsin had been depleted. And on the day of the Chicago Fire, there was also a huge fire in Peshtigo, Wisconsin, a lumber mill town, which burned to the ground.

People switched to Southern yellow pine, and the industry dispersed instead of being centralized in Chicago.

The benches, cabinets and leaded glass in the sitting room are all original.

There’s another beautiful fireplace in here, this one with carved oak leaves. And again, African rose marble. 

Those scrolling leaves are pure Sullivan, but it’s believed that the geometric design in the middle of the sitting room fireplace woodwork was most likely a Wright touch.

One detail that experts believe came from Wright is the geometric ornamentation of the fireplace panels. It’s unlikely that Sullivan would have conceived the pointed arches and flat, almost Gothic stylized leaves, as this is an arrangement that one would expect from Wright.

The star of the show: The amazing screen that somewhat hides the staircase is one of the elements attributed to Wright in the home’s design.

Upstairs: The Staircase, Bedrooms and Balcony

In my opinion, the most striking part of the home is the staircase. The stairs are set back a bit behind a screen of slender oak spindles, so they appear to be floating. “It’s a beautiful way to illuminate the stairs without closing them off,” Jean said, adding that scholars believe this may have been a Wright touch as well.

Upstairs are two bedrooms, access to the balcony and beautiful (if a bit precarious) woodwork looking down to the first floor. Photo by Leslie Schwartz

The bedrooms are now offices for the architectural society. The rooms themselves aren’t overly impressive, with small unadorned fireplaces ordered from a catalog. There was no need to impress others, you see; it’s the idea of private vs. public space. But they do boast unheard-of amenities at the time: Each has an en-suite bathroom and walk-in closet. 

One interesting tidbit: Unlike most homes of the wealthy at the time, James and Helen shared a bedroom. But we knew they had modern sensibilities when they hired Sullivan to design the home.

Another staircase in the back corner of the landing leads all the way from the basement to the fourth floor, where the servants’ bedrooms were located. They were about half the size of the other bedrooms. While you might think the servants had it nice since the top floor has the best view, just remember that there wasn’t any air conditioning — and heat rises.

The only real outdoor space found at the Charnley-Persky House is the front balcony. Photo by Leslie Schwartz

The balcony was the only outdoor space. Because the house is close to the lake (and this is the Windy City, after all) there’s always a nice breeze. It looks west, to what was a shop across the street. “Not much was going on,” Jean said. “And then Little Hell. So you didn’t need to see too far.”

That pinkish-putty brown color (Jean’s not a fan) matches the original hue of the balcony.

The house was given to the SAH, but unfortunately, there’s no endowment to support its upkeep. Tours, donations and the efforts of the architectural society subsidize the preservation of this magnificent house so that it can continue to be enjoyed for generations to come. 

If you are a Chicagoan interested in architecture or history, or are visiting Chicago and looking for something to do after you’ve seen the Bean, book a tour to experience the birth of the modern home, designed by two of the world’s most famous architects.

The home is open for docent-led tours every Wednesday and Saturday at noon year round. There’s an additional Saturday tour at 10 a.m. from April to October. Tours are free on Wednesdays and cost $10 on Saturdays. Reservations are required and tours are limited to 10 people. –Wally

Look for this fence to enter the small sunken courtyard that leads to the visitors center to start your tour. Photo by Leslie Schwartz

Charnley-Persky House Museum

1365 North Astor Street
Chicago, Illinois 60610
USA

 

Pretty in Pink: Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel

Discover the strange history of this iconic church, the lively Jardín it overlooks and the riotous Festival of San Miguel. 

Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel, an icon of San Miguel de Allende, Mexico

“It’s just like the Disney Castle!” 

It’s a refrain you’ll hear often when you show pictures of the iconic church in San Miguel de Allende. Only, for my money, it’s cooler, cuz it’s pink — and I’d much rather be in Mexico than Disney World. 

“The church was designed by a self-taught indigenous stonemason named Zeferino Gutiérrez, who was inspired by a postcard of a Belgian church.

Apparently, Gutiérrez had never seen a cathedral in person, so he just winged it, scratching his design in the sand with a stick. ”

You’ll never tire of seeing the Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel (they really need to come up with a solid nickname). And the good news is, almost every time you head out to explore the charming colonial town, you’ll find yourself passing by the church and the main square, known locally as el Jardín. 

Behind the church is a quaint cobblestone street.

A Towering Legacy: Construction of San Miguel’s Most Famous Landmark

The exact date of construction is a matter of debate. There’s a convoluted history on the church’s website, stating that the first iteration was in 1564 — while others believe it wasn’t completed until the 1700s. The church has undergone so many renovations and additions over the years that it’s difficult to discern what the original structure looked like.

Perhaps all those renovations is why San Miguel Arcángel is a delightful mishmash of different architectural elements. The exterior features a Neo-Gothic façade that was added in the late 19th century, while the underlying structure is more Mexican Baroque. 

San Miguel de Allende is for lovers.

But let’s face it: The real stars of the show are the towering spires. They’re the stuff of legend, designed by a self-taught indigenous stonemason named Zeferino Gutiérrez, who was inspired by a postcard of a Belgian church. Apparently, Gutiérrez had never seen a cathedral in person, so he just winged it, scratching his design in the sand with a stick. 

Whatever the case, the end result is magical — he created those fantastical, otherworldly spires that look like they belong in a fairytale.

Part of its undeniable charm is the fact that it’s pink. The stones used in the Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel’s façade are cantera, a volcanic rock likely sourced from nearby quarries. Over time, the stones have taken on a more vibrant shade of pink, winning the hearts of visitors and locals alike.

Duke sits on the steps at the side of the church.

The church sort of leans to one side, which has led to various theories about how it came to be that way. Some say it was built askew on purpose to ward off evil spirits or to align with the position of the sun. Others attribute its slant to an earthquake or even the Devil himself. In reality, the tilt is likely due to the sandy soil San Miguel Arcángel was built on, which has shifted over time. This natural phenomenon is known as subsidence and is a common problem in many parts of the world.

In recent years, efforts have been made to stabilize the church and prevent further subsidence. However, the tilt remains a distinctive feature of the Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel and adds to its unique character and charm. Hey, it worked for that Tower of Pisa.

The Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel has seen some violence over the years.

The Cristero War and the Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel 

The San Miguel Arcángel parish has seen some real action over the years. For one thing, it was witness to the bloody Cristero War of the 1920s. This violent conflict pitted Catholic rebels against the anti-clerical government of Mexico, with both sides fighting tooth and nail for their beliefs. San Miguel Arcángel wasn’t spared from the brutality — bullets and bombs left the church’s walls scarred and pockmarked. In addition, some of the priests of San Miguel Arcángel were killed or exiled during the conflict. 

The church was later repaired, a testament to the resilience of the locals and a symbol of Mexican history and faith.

The interior of the Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel didn’t go entirely as planned.

A Work in Progress: The Interior of Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel 

While I’m utterly smitten with the whimsical exterior of the Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel, the interior ain’t too shabby, either. It also features a variety of architectural styles, including Gothic, Baroque and Neoclassical. The high ceilings and intricate details create a sense of grandeur and awe. The main altar is adorned with gold leaf and features a statue of San Miguel, aka Saint Michael the Archangel, the church’s namesake. 

Wally thinks this would be a great place to propose to someone.

Off to the side is a smaller chapel adorned with surprisingly modern murals that look Cubist. 

A chapel in the back corner of the church has a Cubist-esque mural showing indigenous Mexicans on one side and Catholic monks on the other.

As impressive as the interior is, though, it’s not quite finished — or what was first intended. In fact, the original plans for the interior were much more grandiose, but due to a lack of funding and resources, many of the ideas were never fully realized. 

On the side of the church is a statue of Fray Juan de San Miguel, who founded the city and was, in turn, named for Saint Michael the Archangel.

Saintly Swordsman: The Legend of San Miguel

So who exactly is the archangel the church is named for? 

Well, with a name like Miguel, which means “Who Is Like God,” it’s not surprising that he’s the commander of the heavenly host. He’s often depicted with a sword, ready to do battle against Satan and his minions. 

San Miguel is also the patron saint of police officers and soldiers. 

Plaza Allende, commonly known as the Jardín, is the bustling center of this charming colonial town.

The Heart of San Miguel: Exploring the Jardín, the City’s Vibrant Central Park

Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel overlooks the main town square, the Jardín, formally known as Plaza Allende. This lively square is the beating heart of San Miguel de Allende. If you’re looking to people-watch, hear a mariachi band, pose with the giant puppets called mojigangas or grab some street food (we had elotes one night that were delicious), this is the place to be. 

Dancing by the gazebo

A mariachi trumpeter

Mariachi bands entertain the crowds in the plaza in front of the church.

The Jardín is situated right in the center of town, which makes it a prime location for all sorts of festivities and events. It’s flanked by the church on one side, and rows of shops and restaurants on the others, so there’s always something to see and do.

Grab dinner at the elote stand.

Wally digs into his elote.

But the Jardín wasn’t always the lovely green space it is today. In fact, it used to be a marketplace where vendors sold everything from produce to livestock. It wasn’t until the early 20th century that the town decided to convert it into a park, complete with benches, a gazebo and trees that have been trimmed into circles.

If you can, time your trip to coincide with the Feast of San Miguel at the end of September.

Feast of San Miguel and the Crazy Castillos of the Town’s Biggest Fiesta

Duke and I happened to be in SMA during the Feast of San Miguel — but, as odd as it might sound, no one told us about it! Thank God we happened to be walking through the Jardín and noticed that they were erecting wooden scaffolds in front of the church. 

We looked at a flyer pasted to the wall that listed local events. Lo and behold, it was none other than the town’s biggest frickin’ festival! 

There was a café on the corner we’d been wanting to check out, so we popped in there and got some drinks while we waited for the festivities to begin. 

The week-long Festival of San Miguel, aka La Alborada, takes place around September 29, the saint’s feast day, usually culminating on the following weekend. 

The festival’s firework show was the most impressive we’ve ever seen — in part because of the gorgeous backdrop of the church spires.

And what a festival it was! A crowd gathered in front of Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel, and mariachis played their tunes. But the pièce de résistance were the castillos, those towers we had seen, rising up like giant matchstick sculptures in front of the church. 

Local craftsmen build these towering infernos, using skills and techniques that have been passed down through generations. It’s truly a sight to behold. 

The castillos are a wonder to behold.

When they’re lit, stand back — and let the sparks fly! The pyrotechnicians manning the castillos are like mad scientists, firing off bursts of firecrackers in all directions, painting the night sky above San Miguel Arcángel in a kaleidoscope of colors amid ear-splitting booms. The fireworks on the castillos emit high-pitched wails, spin like Catherine wheels, and form images and words. The whole spectacle was unlike anything we had seen before. 

Forget the drawn-out firework shows you see in the States; this was a machine-gun riot of color and explosions — the best we’ve ever seen. A huge grin was plastered on my face, and I’d turn to my neighbors, strangers united by sharing this marvel, and we’d shake our heads and laugh, unable to believe we were witnessing such magic. –Wally

Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel from el Mirador, overlooking the town of SMA

Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel

Principal s/n
Zona Centro
37700 San Miguel de Allende
Guanajuato
Mexico

 

Step Into the World of Gossip Girl: The Ultimate NYC Tour

Spotted: a glam guide to the most iconic Gossip Girl locations! Take a journey through the scandalous lives of Manhattan’s elite. Grand Central, the Empire State, the Met steps — here’s everything you need to feel like you’re living in the show.

Are you ready for a story of love, drama and betrayal? Well, then hop aboard for a tour of Gossip Girl shooting locations. 

I still remember the days when my classmates and I would huddle around the TV, transfixed by the scandals and love triangles of our favorite Upper East Siders. From the unforgettable (and toxic) pairing of Chuck and Blair to Serena’s iconic style — not to mention Lonely Boy’s emo angst — Gossip Girl had us hooked.

“It wasn’t just the characters that captured our hearts — it was the city that served as their playground.

New York City became a character in its own right, a backdrop for the drama and glamour that unfolded on screen. ”

But it wasn’t just the characters that captured our hearts — it was the city that served as their playground. New York City became a character in its own right, a backdrop for the drama and glamour that unfolded on screen. And as a die-hard fan, I knew I had to experience it for myself.

That’s how I found myself on a bus full of fellow Gossip Girl enthusiasts, ready to embark on a tour of the show’s most iconic filming locations. We chose BCS charter bus rental for our journey, knowing that we would be in for a comfortable ride with amenities like plush seats, a bathroom and even a fridge. And of course, the show’s killer soundtrack was a must-have for our journey.

Our adventure took us to some of the most famous spots from the show, from Grand Central to the steps of the Met. And we of course made a stop at the Empire State, where Chuck and Blair’s romance reached new heights (and lows).

As we traveled around the city, I couldn’t help but feel like I was living my best Gossip Girl fantasy. 

Stop 1: Grand Central Terminal

89 East 42nd Street

Let’s go back to where it all began: iconic Grand Central. This is where Gossip Girl’s leading lady, Serena, returned to NYC in the very first episode. I’ll never forget the moment Dan laid eyes on Serena here, which set off a chain reaction of drama.

After grabbing a coffee at Central Market, we headed inside to see the spot where it all began for ourselves, snapping some pics of the breathtaking architecture.

Stop 2: The Campbell

15 Vanderbilt Avenue

The Campbell isn’t your average bar — it’s a scene straight out of Gossip Girl. With three distinct areas, including a cozy fireplace, it’s no wonder Serena and Nate chose this spot for their steamy rendezvous. At the time, Nate was still dating Blair. Talk about scandalous!

This historic bar has been given a stylish makeover and is a must-visit destination for any fan of the show.

Stop 3: Museum of the City of New York

1220 Fifth Avenue

Get ready to step back in time and experience the history of New York at the Museum of the City. It boasts an impressive collection of photographs, interactive exhibits and in-depth analyses of the city’s architecture and infrastructure during various eras.

But what’s the connection to the show? The museum was a filming location for the Gossip Girl reboot. It’s where the new characters made their grand entrance at Constance Billard School, and we couldn’t help but feel like we were part of the show’s elite crew during our visit.

Stop 4: Empire Hotel

44 West 63rd Street

We couldn’t have a Gossip Girl tour without a visit to the Empire Hotel, the stomping grounds of Chuck Bass himself. This iconic hotel is not only a filming location but a hub for luxurious dining and posh accommodations.

We had a meal at PJ Clarke’s and reminisced about all the Chuck and Blair drama that unfolded within those walls. And don’t miss the chance to take in the stunning view from the rooftop bar — it’s the perfect spot to feel like a true Upper East Sider and get a view of the iconic neon sign. 

Stop 5: Empire State Building

20 West 34th Street

We couldn’t leave New York without a visit to the Empire State Building. It’s not only a world-renowned landmark, it’s also the site of one of Chuck and Blair’s most epic moments. This is where Blair was supposed to meet Chuck — but things didn’t go quite as planned.

Don’t worry — our visit was drama-free, and we were able to take in the stunning views of the city from the top.

Stop 6: Metropolitan Museum of Art

1000 Fifth Avenue

Last but certainly not least, we have the iconic Met. This museum may have many impressive exhibits, but let’s be real. We’re all here for one thing: the steps. These stairs are the backdrop of some of the most memorable scenes from the show, where Blair and her minions held court.

We couldn’t resist taking our own Blair-inspired photos on the steps, and felt like true Upper East Siders for a moment. It was the perfect ending to our Gossip Girl tour of New York.

Following in the Footsteps of Your Favorite Gossip Girl Characters

Are you following along, fellow GG addicts? If you’re anything like me and want to immerse yourself in the fabulous world of the Upper East Side elite, then this is the tour for you! Rent a charter bus, gather your squad of Gossip Girl enthusiasts and hit up all the iconic spots from the show. From Grand Central Station to the Met’s legendary steps, you’ll feel like you’re living in the show itself. Trust me: It’s a full day of fun and a must-do for any true fan. 

So what are you waiting for? Grab your Blair headbands and don your Chuck Bass suits and hop aboard! You know you love me. XOXO –Alexandra Karsonn

Centro Cultural San Pablo: A Hidden Wonder in Oaxaca

An art-filled secret alley, award-winning design and a mission to preserve the indigenous heritage of the region, thanks in part to the Biblioteca de Investigación Juan de Córdova. Oaxaca’s cultural center is where culture and community come together. 

The cool stonework in the passage leading to the cultural center

It opens up like a secret passage. At first we noticed the distinctive and charming herringbone pattern on the ground, chevrons of stone interspersed with grass. 

We were drawn toward it, mesmerized. Then we looked up and around — and discovered a wonderland squeezed between two massive edifices. We had happened upon the art-filled alleyway that leads to the Centro Cultural San Pablo in the Mexican art-filled and mezcal-soaked town of Oaxaca. 

The Alleyway Art Spaces at Centro Cultural San Pablo

Outside the Centro Cultural San Pablo, in the alleyway that leads to its entrance, there’s a gallery to the left if you enter off of Miguel Hidalgo, as well as a smaller exhibit space at the other end (which had a three-dimensional re-creation of Van Gogh’s painting Bedroom in Arles). 

It’s not hard to figure out what this portion is called the Plaza de los Paraguas (Umbrella Plaza).

A diorama at one end of the alley was a real-life re-creation of Van Gogh’s painting Bedroom in Arles.

But the alley itself is the coolest part. It’s like walking through an immersive art exhibit — and it’s free for all to enjoy. At its center is the Plaza de los Paraguas, or Umbrella Plaza, an art installation of colorful umbrellas that form a canopy overhead. 

Once you’ve had your fun exploring the alley, it’s time to head into the cultural center — which is no less impressive. 

The interior courtyard of the Centro Cultural San Pablo had seats set up for a musical performance.

Convent-Turned-Cultural-Gem: Centro Cultural San Pablo 

The Centro Cultural San Pablo is housed in a massive structure that was originally a convent for the Dominican order back in the 16th century — and shares the building with the boutique hotel we stayed at, Casa Antonieta, and the Oaxaca Textile Museum. A local philanthropic organization, the Alfred Harp Helú Foundation, spent 186 million pesos (about $10 million) to acquire and renovate the building.

And what a job they did! The cultural center opened in 2011. Once you step inside, you completely forget you’re in an ancient edifice. In an interview with ArchDaily, Gabriela Carrillo explained that when designing the cultural center, she and her partner, Mauricio Rocha, were inspired by the traditional architecture of Oaxaca. “We were looking for a language that would allow the building to be understood as part of the city,” she said. “We didn’t want it to be a foreign object that just landed there.” 

That may be the case, but in a colorful, charming and crumbling town, it certainly feels fresh and sleek. The duo has ingeniously blended a modern flair with traditional elements. 

Three sides of the main space feel as if they haven’t been updated much since the nuns made this their home. But one wall is a work of art — three stories entirely encased in glass with steel frames.  

“Our work is about finding a balance between the past and the future, between tradition and innovation,” Rocha told Wallpaper*. 

Mission accomplished. But the Centro Cultural San Pablo isn’t just a pretty face — it’s also a multifunctional space that serves the community. “The design is driven by the idea of being a cultural platform that can adapt to different types of events,” Carillo explained. 

The roof of the cultural center retracts to be open to the sky on nice days.

Rocha and Carrillo’s work on the Centro Cultural San Pablo has helped to cement their reputation as some of Mexico’s most talented architects. Their design scored them the prestigious World Architecture Festival’s Building of the Year Award in the Culture category in 2018. The project was also a finalist for the Mies Crown Hall Americas Prize and was selected for the ArchDaily Building of the Year Award in 2019.   

A wander through the first-floor gallery

A Creative Hub and Cultural Playground: Exploring the Vibrant Events Scene at Centro Cultural San Pablo

Since it opened in 2011, the Centro Cultural San Pablo has become a beloved institution in Oaxaca, known for its innovative programming and commitment to promoting the arts and culture of the region.

For locals and visitors alike, the cultural center is a hub of activity, with events and exhibitions that showcase the diversity and richness of Oaxacan culture. Film, concerts, conferences, presentations and classes, from traditional dance to pottery — there’s always something going on at the center. 

Sculptures of musicians lined one wall of the courtyard.

While we were exploring, we wandered through an art exhibit on the first floor, then watched the staff set up for a musical performance by a female harpist. 

A harpist preps for her concert.

We also passed a table near the entrance displaying a variety of native handicrafts. I assumed it was educational, but Duke somehow deduced the objects were actually for sale. We both gravitated towards a small tureen in the shape of an armadillo (because obviously). And for 510 pesos (about $26 at the time), the price was right. The wares were a selection of items from the nearby shop Andares del Arte Popular. 

A friendly young woman explained that we’d have to pay at the store across the street, but we should explore the center, and she’d walk us over when we were done. 

The Biblioteca de Investigación Juan de Córdova is open to the public. Its mission is to preserve the indigenous cultures of Oaxaca.

Preserving Mesoamerican Heritage at the Biblioteca de Investigación Juan de Córdova

The stunning glass wall is part of a small research library that’s open to the public. The Biblioteca de Investigación Juan de Córdova has a cool mission: It’s dedicated to preserving and sharing the rich cultural heritage of the state of Oaxaca. They conduct research on Mesoamerican cultures, organize events to share it with others, and work to preserve and digitize their collections.

A side passage is visually arresting — though we have no idea of its purpose.

Mi Casa de la Cultura Oaxaqueña Es Su Casa de la Cultura Oaxaqueña

All in all, Centro Cultural San Pablo has made a profound impact on the cultural landscape of Oaxaca and beyond. Through its innovative programming, commitment to social justice and celebration of the region’s rich traditions, it has become a beacon of creativity and hope, inspiring generations of artists, activists and cultural enthusiasts.

Glass pillars create an interesting vista in one of the upstairs windows.

It’s no wonder the Centro Cultural San Pablo is also known as Casa de la Cultura Oaxaqueña, or House of Oaxacan Culture. This nickname reflects the cultural center’s mission to promote and celebrate the rich traditions and diverse cultures of Oaxaca state. If there’s one thing that becomes abundantly clear when you visit this region, it’s that Oaxacans are fiercely proud of their heritage and take great pains to preserve it. It’s what makes this such an incredible place to visit. –Wally

The interesting alleyway drew us in immediately — only later did we discover the cultural center.

Centro Cultural San Pablo

Miguel Hidalgo 907
Centro
68000 Oaxaca de Juárez
Oaxaca
Mexico

Hours: 10 a.m. to 8 p.m. (Monday through Saturday)
10 a.m. to 6 p.m. (Sunday)

The Pabst Mansion in Milwaukee: Hopped Up on History

Take a tour of the historic home of the preeminent beer baron, Captain Frederick Pabst — an architectural gem from the Gilded Age that’s sure to quench your thirst for fun things to do in Milwaukee. 

“Could you tell whoever put up that cell tower to move it, please?” Wally asked our tour guide, Roxie. “It’s ruining my shot.”

My parents are always up for an adventure. Whenever they come to visit us, we find a fun day trip to take. Since they typically drive to see us and only spend a few days, the maximum distance for these excursions is about two hours away. When we visited my family in the fall, we toured Graycliff, the summer residence built for Darwin Martin’s wife Isabelle and designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. 

Next up: the Pabst Mansion in Milwaukee. Like Graycliff, it’s a historic property that had been acquired, adaptively reused and inadvertently saved by the occupation of a religious organization. Milwaukee is 92 miles, or about an hour and a half away, from Chicago, where we live, so the opportunity to tour the former home of a beer baron and his family made for an intoxicating destination. 

“The Pabst Mansion cost $254,000 in the early 1890s — a figure equivalent to about $8.4 million today. ”

A bust of the beer baron

A Brief History of the Pabst Mansion 

In 1890 Captain Johann Gottlieb Friedrich “Frederick” Pabst commissioned architects George Bowman Ferry and Alfred Charles Clas to create a 20,000-square-foot residence on what was then Grand Avenue (now Wisconsin Avenue). The home was one of the finest of the 19th century mansions built on Milwaukee’s premier residential street. 

The project was completed two years later at a cost of $254,000, which included the home, furnishings and artwork — a figure equivalent to about $8.4 million today. Pabst had 8,000 square feet of the house for himself, his wife, Maria, and the four children who survived to adulthood. The remainder was used as living quarters and service areas for the staff. The Pabsts employed up to 15 servants, who ran the day-to-day operations of the house.

The residence was modern for the time and one of the first to be wired for electricity, 10 years after this new-fangled energy source had arrived in Milwaukee. Additionally, the home boasted 10 full baths and a state-of-the-art central forced-air heating system. 

You’ll notice a theme that runs throughout the tour: elaborate decoration.

Face Value: The Exterior of the Pabst Mansion

Built in the Flemish Revival style, the mansion’s striking cream-colored brick façade features terracotta ornamentation and corbie gables, stepped triangular peaks, which reflect 17th century Northern European architectural forms. The gables have spires that were replicated and replaced as the originals had been destroyed by lightning sometime in the 20th century. 

Our gang taking a group shot in front of the landmark

Beneath the loggia and flanking the mansion’s double doors are a pair of ornate hand-forged ironwork window grilles emblazoned with the initials FP, for Frederick Pabst, of course. They feature delicate scrollwork and rosettes and were made by Austrian-born blacksmith Cyril Colnik. Captain Papst met Colnik at the 1893 Columbian Exposition in Chicago and encouraged him to come to Milwaukee. Colnik agreed, and set up a successful studio, where he worked until his retirement in 1955. Considered the “Mozart of Metal” for his skill at sculpting with iron, he achieved national fame as one of the foremost metal craftsmen of his time. 

The beautiful murals throughout the Pabst Mansion were painted over when the Catholic church took possession of the house. Thankfully, the restoration team was able to remove the offending coat of white and preserve the scenes beneath like this one.

Altar(ed) States: The Church’s Ownership — and the Battle to Save the Pabst Mansion

Following the death of their mother, Maria, in 1906, Gustave and Frederick Pabst Jr. put the palatial family home up for sale. After a couple of years had passed without any prospects, the boys sold the property to the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Milwaukee for $97,000 as a residence for the archbishop and offices. The sale included the furniture of the ladies parlor, music room and formal dining room. 

By 1974 the archdiocese had outgrown the mansion, and the last archbishop to live there, William Edward Cousins, moved out. It’s difficult to comprehend, but the mansion’s future was at risk. The property was sold to a real estate developer whose sole interest was to demolish the historic home in favor of a parking lot for his neighboring business, the Coach House Motor Inn. 

Our tour of the home was led by the fabulous Roxie.

Thanks to the advocacy of a citizens’ preservation group, Wisconsin Heritages Inc. (WHI), now known as Pabst Mansion Inc., the historic home was saved. They secured a mortgage, and in 1979 the Pabst Mansion was recognized on the National Register of Historic Places and opened for public tours shortly thereafter. As for the Coach House Motor Inn, it has since been absorbed into Marquette University and serves as Mashuda Hall, a coed residence for freshmen and sophomores. 

We were bummed we couldn’t tour the Beaux Arts Pavilion off to the side of the mansion. It’s undergoing restoration.

From Pabst to Present: The Pavilion

To start our tour, we followed our colorful and delightful guide, Roxie, from the Welcome Center next door to the front of a small structure known as the Pavilion. The elaborate Beaux Arts confection designed by Otto Strack extends to the east of the mansion and connects to the home via a covered walkway. The pavilion was originally the Pabst’s display at the 1893 Chicago Columbian Exposition. 

After the fair ended, it was dismantled and transported to Milwaukee, where it was incorporated into the beer baron’s home. Made almost entirely of terracotta, its exterior is ornamented with motifs, including steins, cherubs riding swans and figures representing the god and goddess of wheat and barley. 

The Pavilion began as the Pabst’s display at the Columbian Expo in Chicago, then became a conservatory, chapel and visitors center.

Originally, it was used by the Pabst family as a conservatory for rare and tropical plants. Every summer during the family’s occupancy, their gardener would bring one of their palm trees outside in spring and plant it in the yard, providing a bit of exotic flair. 

Shortly after the occupancy of the archdiocese, the Pavilion was converted into a private chapel for the archbishop. Stained glass windows were added as well as the cross crowning the copper-domed pavilion. 

Unfortunately, at the time of our visit, we were unable to go inside as the structure was undergoing restoration. Buildings constructed for expositions aren’t meant to weather the elements year after year (read the fascinating The Devil in the White City), so the plan is to completely dismantle and reconstruct the Pavilion.  

Off to a good start! The reception hall at the Pabst Mansion has seating, warm-toned wood and a cool antler and iron chandelier.

Making an Entrance: The Reception Hall

Our group followed Roxie through the front doors and into the reception hall of the grand home. I’d describe it as more of a room than a foyer and can only imagine how visitors felt when they arrived. Influential guests at the residence included Teddy Roosevelt before he became president of the United States, while he toured Milwaukee in one of Captain Pabst’s carriages. 

Looking up, I admired the coffered wood ceiling and wrought iron and elk antler chandelier, the focal point of the hall. Sadly, the original, which was fabricated by Colnik, had been removed and purchased by Karl Lotharius for his German tavern Von Trier before WHI had acquired the property. The group enlisted master craftsman Dan Nauman of Bighorn Forge Iron Works to reproduce the fixture and restore the exterior window grilles. A smaller, less ornate chandelier hangs in the musician’s nook. 

Note the wall covering in the reception hall — it’s a costly embossed linen imported from London known as Tynecastle canvas. 

The original art collection by Captain Pabst and Maria featured some of the best artists of the time. Notable works in the room include Halt Before a Wallachian Station, painted by Christian Adolf Schreyer, above the fireplace, and the haunting marble bust of Captain Pabst by Gaetano Trentanove, an Italian sculptor who emigrated to America for the World’s Columbian Exposition of 1893. Like Colnik, Trentanove settled in Milwaukee and opened a studio, which led to a steady stream of portrait commissions from the city’s elite. 

A nook used by musicians to play for guests during parties is situated to the back of the reception hall. It holds an elaborate Black Forest clock and an intricately hand-tooled leather chair. 

Before we proceeded, Roxie provided us with a few basics about the Pabst Mansion: The ground floor was dedicated to entertaining guests and is divided into distinct public and private areas, including the reception hall, two parlors, a formal dining room, a smoking room and Pabst’s study. 

Wally’s favorite room was the ladies’ parlor. He’d have been sneaking in there all the time.

Fit for a Queen: Maria Pabst’s Ladies’ Parlor

The first room we entered off of the reception hall was the elegant ladies’ parlor, where Maria received her society friends. It’s decorated in the Rococo Revival style and showcases gilded curvilinear plasterwork that seems to swell and bloom as if blown by gentle gusts of wind. Fuchsia silk wall panels, curtains and tufted upholstery have been reproduced using samples taken from the original chairs. 

“This feels like a room Marie Antoinette would have had at Versailles,” I whispered to Wally. 

“Yes,” he said. “Only a lot smaller.”

The bright pink floral fabric, which covers chairs and wall panels, certainly makes a statement and helps brighten the cream-colored room.

Bust of Marie Pabst Goodrich by Gaetano Trentanove

Selecting the Fabric by Frederick Solacroix

Hand-painted lilac on the ceiling medallion

While we were admiring the details, Roxie told us about the horrific modifications made while the home was occupied by the church. Most of these were made during the tenure of Archbishop Cousins, who lived in the home from 1959 to 1974. 

For starters, the ladies parlor, along with the rest of the home’s interior walls, ceilings and woodwork, were painted white. This meant covering up some beautiful murals, evoking gasps of horror by our tour group. 

Cousins also had cream-colored wall-to-wall carpeting installed in the first and second floors. 

As Roxie was telling us this, my mind couldn’t process why the archdiocese would have done this to such a magnificent home — especially considering how opulent the interiors of cathedrals can be. 

Thankfully, restoration workers found that the paint used by the church came right off, and the original murals could be preserved.  

The music room was a favorite hangout space for the family and their guests. None of the Pabsts learned to play the piano, though, strangely enough.

Perfect Pitch: The Music Room 

The Pabsts used the less formal Renaissance Revival style parlor for family use and to entertain guests. The walls feature low mahogany wainscot panels and faux ebony twisted columns. Other noteworthy items include a baby grand piano with two stools for duets and a mechanical music box. Although none of the Pabsts apparently knew how to play the piano, the couple welcomed touring performers, undoubtedly appearing at their Pabst Theater, to play for a small audience of friends. 

Their youngest daughter, Emma, married Rudolph Nunnemacher in this room in 1897. The elaborate ceremony was held under a canopy of white and gold silk with pink electric lights on a raised dais.

Fun fact: the Pabst Mansion logo was inspired by their wedding invitations, which featured hand-painted watercolor scenes taken from photographs of Rudolph’s global travels, paired with the couple’s initials. 

Touring pianists would entertain the family.

Love it! A statue of Cupid

Portrait of Captain Pabst by Charles James Fox

Another fun fact: Apparently, Captain Pabst always wanted a brown Jersey cow. (I guess that answers the query, What do you get the man who has everything?) According to a local newspaper, on Pabst’s last Christmas, in 1904, his two sons, Frederick Jr. and Gustave, surprised him by wheeling a cow into the music room. Sadly, the Captain bought the farm, so to speak, six days later, on New Year’s Eve. 

The dining table was set up for 10 but could extend to seat 22!

A Seat at the Table: The Formal Dining Room 

Roxie told us that the dining table, chairs, built-in cabinets and mirrors were all custom-made by the Milwaukee-based Matthew Brothers Manufacturing Company, one of the most prominent furniture manufacturing houses in the United States during the 19th century. When fully extended, the dining table can seat 22 people. 

She continued by sharing an interesting story about the light fixture that hangs above the table. It was considered a marvel of modern engineering at the time, as it was equipped to use gas, kerosene and electricity. 

Landscape paintings above the doors were painted over by the archdiocese but were also able to be restored.  

The formal dining room is on the first floor of the mansion.

A small pale yellow tiled conservatory is attached to the dining room.

Fun fact: The darkly humorous actor Vincent Price filmed a commercial while seated at the Pabsts’ dining room table, ready to tuck into a submarine sandwich from Cousins Subs. 

On Captain Pabst’s desk is a letter he wrote to his children telling them that a good name is more important than riches, and imploring them to be generous and honest.

Hidden Assets: Captain Pabst’s Study

The Captain’s study is the most Germanic and elaborate of the rooms: tooled leather, trophies and an ornately carved armchair with lion-headed arms. I couldn’t help but admire the room’s highly detailed walnut and oak woodwork. Roxie explained that the interiors were inspired by the 17th century German Renaissance, and an antiquing technique was used to appear older than they really are. 

Fun fact: The study contains 14 hidden compartments that are accessed by catch levers. The Captain concealed books, important documents and cigars in his humidor. 

The oil painting over the fireplace, Plowing in Saxony by Richard Lorenz, is thought to have reminded Pabst of the village where he was born. 

The elaborately carved cabinets held secret compartments.

The window features “breath of life” marks left by the glass blower.

A small secondary desk in the study

The leaded glass windows are composed of uniform panes spun into circular shapes known as rondels. Because they’re mouth-blown and produced one at a time, each disk has a slightly irregular pontil mark left behind from the detachment of the blowpipe that’s referred to as the breath of life. 

On top of the desk is a copy of a letter written by Captain Pabst in 1899 to his children. It was included with his will, and I found the following passages to be particularly moving:

“Be generous and unselfish to each other in case of need, and above all, be honest and noble in all your dealings, not only with each other, but with the World. 

I want you to always have a good name. It is better than riches, and your greatest happiness will come from the knowledge of doing right.”

The ceiling panels of the study were painted by Louis Mayer, who ingeniously used different-colored stains to emulate the appearance of inlaid wood. Be sure to look up at the wood coffered ceiling with hand-painted panels inscribed with German proverbs.

The archway under the stairs held a telephone closet.

Step Up: The Grand Staircase Hall

Pabst embraced new technology: The home had its own telephone room, which is located in a small closet beneath the grand staircase. 

My mom, who Wally and I call Mima, remarked that she thought it was where Harry Potter lived, a reference to the cupboard under the stairs where the beloved boy wizard was forced to stay with his aunt and uncle, which made Roxie laugh. 

A cattle skull detail on the landing, looking down at the first floor.

The Pabst home was filled with statues and paintings.

The finials that adorn each of the grand staircase’s nine newel posts were cleverly designed to replicate hops buds. A stained glass skylight tops the stairwell and fills it with natural light. 

The landings at Pabst Mansion served as rooms themselves. And check out the stained glass doorway to granddaughter Elspeth’s room!

The Sum of Its Arts: Second Floor Foyer 

We ascended the staircase and stopped on the second floor. This is where several of the family’s bedrooms are located.  

Roxie had mentioned earlier that Captain Pabst was a humble man who never forgot where he came from. This is evident in the artwork he and Maria collected. The painting Farewell to the Homeland by Wilhelm Koller depicts immigrants on a ship about to set sail, most likely on their way to America. A few of the subjects are looking back in despair, not knowing where they were going, while others are sharing a drink and are expressing a sense of hope. 

Emma had quite the setup, with a desk and vanity in her bedroom.

Austen-tacious: Emma’s Pabsts Regal Bedroom 

The first bedroom we toured belonged to daughter Emma, who lived in the mansion until 1897, when she married. Her room is decorated in the Regency style, which is reflected in the ormolu swag and tassel design on the fireplace mantle. The motif is repeated in the wall coverings, which were replicated for the room. If you look closely, the design depicts what appears to be swans drinking from a fountain. 

Emma’s room is the only one in the home that has all of the original bathroom fixtures and the fanciest toilet tank I’ve ever seen — it has an embossed and gilt laurel wreath and garland motif. The tub, with its oak rim, had been removed and relocated to the basement by the archdiocese. 

The Pabsts weren’t scared of mixing patterns, we’ll give them that!

Our group paused in front of a portrait of eldest daughter, Elizabeth Pabst von Ernst. Roxie told us about her tragic passing: During construction of the home, Elizabeth became ill after the birth of her daughter, Emma Marie, and died six months later from appendicitis. She was only 26 years old. Rumor has it that the Pabsts blamed her death on her husband, the German painter Otto von Ernst. 

Roxie went on to tell us that the Pabsts approached their son-in-law to discuss Emma Marie, their granddaughter: “Look, we would like to adopt her,” they said. “We feel that we can provide her with a better life and would like to make sure that she receives the inheritance that her mother would have gotten.” Otto agreed. Captain Pabst gave him $10,000, told him to leave, and he did. After the proceedings had taken place, her name was changed from Emma Marie to Elsbeth in remembrance of her mother, Elizabeth. 

It seems a bit strange to have a large portrait of yourself as a focal point in your bedroom, but hey. That’s a painting of Elsbeth Pabst by Caesar Phillip in the young girl’s bedroom.

True Blue: Elsbeth’s Room

Elsbeth was the only small child to grow up in the Pabst Mansion, and she was spoiled accordingly — she was given the most elaborately decorated room in the home. It’s richly ornamented in Rococo style and includes carved pilasters, silk wall coverings and a Venetian glass chandelier. Her room was further enhanced with a fine hand-painted frieze of floral wreaths and ribbons.

Roxie tells our group about Elspeth, whose father was paid off so she could live in the Pabst Mansion.

Fun fact: During restoration of the bathroom, Dave Strickland, the owner of Affiliated Artists, removed 11 layers of paint and made the discovery that the walls had originally been painted a light blue. While that color is now paired with baby boys, it used to be the opposite: Blue was for girls, and, believe it or not, pink was for boys.  

That’s a portrait of Maria Pabst above the fireplace in her sitting room.

A Cozy Retreat: Maria’s Sitting Room 

Maria’s sitting room is more casual than the opulent bedrooms of Emma and Elsbeth. With its floral wallpaper, cherry woodwork and comfortable furniture, it provided a retreat where the lady of the house could read and attend to her correspondence. 

The raised platform was where Maria would try on dresses — and do needlepoint when she had insomnia.

Roxie informed us that Mrs. Pabst suffered from insomnia. Unlike Wally, who conks immediately after putting on an audiobook, Maria would often get up in the middle of the night and come into the sitting room to do needlepoint. 

The sitting room for Captain Pabst is, honestly, pretty unimpressive compared to the other family members’.

Separate Beds: The Master Bedroom 

Roxie pointed out that the master bedroom had two double beds on either side of the room. This prompted the following conversation:

Wally: So they slept in separate beds?

Roxie: But you know they got together sometime, right?

Wally: Well, they did have 10 kids!

A curious piece of art now hangs in the room that was taken from the brewery office of Captain Pabst. The painting features children as the main subjects and is titled The Art of Brewing by Hermann Michalowski. In it, alarmingly young kids are shown drinking beer. Roxie explained to us that the artist’s intent was to depict the purity of the product, and of course children are traditionally viewed as good and kind. 

Be sure to check out The Art of Brewing by Hermann Michalowski to see depictions of toddlers boozin’ it up.

Why was Erik Heyl, Lisette’s grandson, painted wearing a dress? Roxie told us that it made it easier for kids to go to the bathroom before they were potty trained. 

Fun fact: Marie’s steamer trunk was returned to the Pabst Mansion after it was picked up from a collector who found it sitting on the curb outside of the private men’s hangout, the Milwaukee Club. The institution had been decluttering and was unaware that the unassuming trunk belonged to the famous beer baron’s wife. It’s marked MP on the top and M. Pabst on the bottom. 

The third floor landing

Troubles of the Pabst

At this point, Roxie pointed out that every family has problems, and for Captain and Mrs. Pabst, one was their eldest son, Gustave. In the summer of 1892, he met the freshly divorced Shakespearian actress Margret Mather. The pair fell madly in love and eloped. It wasn’t long before Captain and Mrs. Pabst found out, and they were not pleased. 

Three years later, the couple was seen arguing. A piece circulated in the national news reporting that Margret chased after and struck Gustave with a horsewhip. Although both parties denied this publicly, their marriage ended shortly thereafter. At the time, it was the largest divorce settlement in Wisconsin: Margret received $30,000 from Captain Pabst to not contest the suit. She took the money, and in 1898 she staged her theatrical comeback in a production of Cybelline, collapsed onstage in the middle of a performance and died later that evening. 

The servants had a tiny table — but they had some pretty Delft tiles to admire.

Rewarding Hard Work: The Servants Dining Room

The final room on the tour was the servants dining room. A mutual respect existed between Captain Pabst and his staff, which is reflected in the servants quarters. Their dining room includes hand-painted delft tile featuring idyllic scenes. The stenciled frieze along the top of the wall mimics the motif of the three tulips in the tile work. 

The Captain was known for his work ethic — evident in the motivational saying in a stained glass window here: Guter Mut ist halbe Arbeit (A good attitude is half the work).

A vignette in the kitchen

Saving Grace: Reacquiring Furnishings 

Thanks to a number of donors, the museum has managed to reacquire many of the original furnishings, artwork, glassware and ephemera that were part of the Pabst family’s personal effects. 

Early on, the WHI negotiated with the Archdiocese of Milwaukee to purchase three rooms of furniture that originally filled the principal rooms on the first floor. Many of these pieces were slated to be auctioned off and were saved by supporters, who aided by purchasing one chair or table at a time. 

Over the years, many more original items have been returned, helping in the effort to restore the home to its original state. 

Adult tickets are $12, and docent-led tours are about 75 minutes long. I encourage anyone with an interest in a glimpse into a bygone era, architecture, art or learning more about the Pabst legacy to visit. Help preserve an impressive landmark building. –Duke

The Pabst Mansion

2000 West Wisconsin Avenue 
Milwaukee, Wisconsin
USA

 

Going for Baroque: The Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán Church in Oaxaca

From its fascinating history to its stunning Baroque architecture, the Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán Church is a must-see attraction in Oaxaca.

Like most churches in Mexico, the Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán in Oaxaca has got history, style, beauty, drama and a whole lot of swag. 

Holy History: The Evolution of Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán Church

Construction of the church began in 1572 and was completed over three decades later, in 1608. The building was designed by Fray Francisco de la Maza, a Spanish architect who was a member of the Dominican Order. 

“Inside the church, visitors are treated to a riot of color and decoration.

The walls and ceilings are covered in frescoes of the life of Christ and the history of the Dominican Order.”

Also par for the course: The church was built on the site of an existing temple that was destroyed during the Spanish conquest of the region. The original temple was dedicated to Cosijoeza, a Zapotec ruler from the late 15th century. He was a skilled warrior who fought against the Aztecs and other neighboring tribes to defend his people’s land and culture. He acted as shaman and healer as well, and was said to have possessed great spiritual power.

According to legend, Cosijoeza ascended to the heavens after his death, becoming a god who watches over the Zapotec people and protects them from harm.

During the colonial period, the Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán was built as a symbol of the power and wealth of the Catholic Church and the Spanish colonial authorities. The church was lavishly decorated with gold leaf, marble and other precious materials, and it served as a center of religious and cultural life in Oaxaca.

In the 19th century, the church played an important role in the Mexican War of Independence, serving as barracks for both royalist and insurgent forces at different times. After Mexico gained independence from Spain in 1821, the church continued to be the spiritual heart of Oaxaca, and it was eventually designated as a national monument in 1935.

Today, the Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán is one of the most visited tourist attractions in town, attracting thousands of visitors each year.

What’s in a Name? The Legacy of Santo Domingo de Guzmán

Saint Domingo de Guzmán was a Spanish priest who lived in the 12th and 13th centuries. He founded the Order of Preachers, also known as the Dominican Order, which was dedicated to preaching the gospel and combating heresy. Saint Domingo was known for his zeal and devotion to spreading the teachings of the Church.

There was no dramatic act of martyrdom for Santo Domingo, though: He died of a fever in Bologna, Italy in 1221, and was canonized by the Catholic Church in 1234.

Divine Design: The Intricate Baroque Style of Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán Church

Mexican churches tend not to be subtle. The Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán Church is a masterclass in Baroque architecture, a visual feast, with intricate details both inside and out. The exterior is adorned with elaborate carvings and statues, featuring saints, angels and other religious figures. The façade is made of Cantera verde, the local green volcanic stone, which glows a lovely yellow in the sunshine. Three domes top the templo — two blue and white checkered ones atop the entrance and a larger red tile one to the side.

When we saw this woman posing in front of the church, we had to get in on the action.

Inside the church, visitors are treated to a riot of color and decoration. The walls and ceilings are covered in frescoes and murals featuring scenes from the life of Christ and the history of the Dominican Order.

The altarpiece, which was carved from a single piece of cedar, is gilded with gold leaf and decorated with intricate carvings of saints, cherubs and other religious motifs.

To the right of the nave is the Capilla del Rosario, or Chapel of the Rosary, with its own stunning altarpiece.

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There’s a museum attached to the church. Hopefully it’s open when you visit!

Sacred Treasures: The Artifacts and Exhibits of the Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán Church Museum

There’s a museum in the massive edifice as well, to the left of the main church entrance. Unfortunately it was closed when we visited, but it holds an impressive (and surprisingly diverse) collection of religious art, including paintings, sculptures and tapestries, housed in the former monastery of the Dominican Order.

One of the highlights of the museum is the collection of pre-Hispanic artifacts, including pottery, sculptures, and other objects from the Zapotec and Mixtec cultures. You can also see a wide range of religious art from the colonial period. There’s even a collection of contemporary art, with rotating exhibits featuring the work of local and international artists, as well vintage photographs and cameras. 

As our friend Kevin, who lives in town, says, “There’s a parade or festival every day in Oaxaca.” This indigenous dance troupe performed in the plaza in front of Santo Domingo de Guzmán.

When you’re in Oaxaca de Juárez, you’ll inevitably find yourself passing by the massive Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán. Be sure to stop inside and admire the gilded glory — and plan a tour of the Oaxaca Botanical Garden (Jardín Etnobotánico de Oaxaca) on the grounds of the former Dominican monastery behind the church. –Wally

Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán

Calle Macedonio Alcalá s/n
Centro
68000 Oaxaca de Juárez
Oaxaca
Mexico