TAKE A LONG VIEW of the architecture in Philadelphia. “Firsts” and “finests” are thick on the ground here; below are merely a few of the buildings that have caught my eye, thrilled my soul, and warmed my cold hands and feet, during many visits over the past 50 years.
First: Carpenters’ Hall, the home of the builders’ Guild. Every building in colonial Philadelphia — her distinctive brick row-houses, the sedate Quaker meeting houses and serene churches — all were shaped by Guild members, none of whom was a college boy. Together, they shared (and kept) the secrets and short-cuts and methods that made Philly the second city of the British Empire. (At the time, remember, London was a foul-smelling stew, Edinburgh a medieval rats’ nest, Birmingham a smoky pit, and Calcutta a teeming and noxious offense to humanity; giving Pennsylvania’s “Greene Countrie Towne” a claim as Britain’s most gracious, sanitary, and pleasant seat.)

The Carpenters’ Guild’s masterpiece was the Pennsylvania State House, an entire civic-center complex which, in 1775, hosted the Second Continental Congress. No public buildings in the colonies were greater or more elegantly appointed.


“Mr. Adams, DEAR Mr. Adams…” 

The Founders’ Generation preferred the glory of Rome to the wisdom of Greece. This is reflected in the Palladian windows on the State House, and in the columns and pediment of the First Bank of the United States (1795). Mr. Hamilton, the first Secretary of the Treasury and the Father of American Debt, had a big hand in the design selection for Treasury offices. He wanted Americans to tremble before the awful majesty of the debts he decreed and which they have had, ever since, to accrue to live. Thus the Roman style was chosen, and White House architect James Hoban and D.C. planner Samuel Blodgett worked out the design.

First Bank: follows Roman style. 
Rome equaled power, which Hamilton wanted.
But after 1800, pure democracy and Attic severity were en vogue. William Strickland, a Monmouth County boy who made good, contributed mightily to this shift. (And not just in Philadelphia: Strickland is responsible for the cool classicism of the capitals of the new states along the Ohio Valley, Tennessee and Kentucky.)

“Strickland was born in the Navesink section of Middletown, NJ, and moved with his family to Philadelphia as a child. In his youth, he was a landscape painter, illustrator for periodicals, theatrical scene painter, engraver, and pioneer aquatintist. His Greek Revival designs drew much inspiration from the plates of The Antiquities of Athens. Strickland and his mentor Benjamin Latrobe competed to design the Second Bank of the United States in Philadelphia (1819–1824), a competition that called for “chaste” Greek style. Strickland, who was still copying classical prototypes at this point, won with an ambitious design modeled on the iconic Parthenon. Proud of the building, Strickland had it included in the background of his 1829 portrait by Philadelphia society painter John Neagle.”
— Wikipedia entry on Wm. Strickland


Strickland even “broke up” a Palladian window to de-emphasize its Roman-ness. 
Second Bank: Strictly Greek
Strickland was popular among the moneyed classes. For his Merchant’s Exchange, the commercial center of Philly, Strickland adapted Greek ideas, and Roman ideas, and Egyptian ideas, and Regency ideas, a misch-masch we call “Neo-Classical.” But he made something entirely new out of it all; something approaching the Modern in its utility and clean lines. Dock Creek, an inlet of the Delaware, allowed barges full of goods to tie up outside, so cargo could be loaded and unloaded right into the cellar, while merchants ascended from the dock to the large trading floor above to strike their bargains.




Egyptian Revival columns on street level 
Neo-Classicism was his forte and he could knock these off all over town (see the Mechanics’ Bank of 1836). But Strickland also helped bring the Gothic Revival to America. His St. Stephen’s Church (1823) is a precious Gothic Revival example, the earliest, and the only building of the style to survive in Philly.

Mechanics’ Bank 
St. Stephen’s
Strickland’s great rival in town was the English immigrant John Haviland. By publishing architectural pattern books, Haviland let out the secrets of design, and broke the professional hold of the trade guilds. From Haviland on, trained architects would be in the driver’s seat of American design.

“Haviland arrived in Philadelphia in September of 1816 and within a few months had settled in as one of the few professional architects in the city. He first appeared in the Philadelphia city directories in 1818 with an office at 26 North Fifth Street. In what would become time-honored tradition, Haviland advertised himself by producing a book. Builder’s Assistant, Containing the Five Orders of Architecture, for the Use of Builders, Carpenters, Masons, Plasterers, Cabinet Makers, and Carvers… (Philadelphia: John Bioren, 1818, 1819, 1821) appeared in three volumes over several years. This publication was a landmark event in American neo-classical architecture; not only was it one of the earliest architectural pattern books written and published in North America, but it was probably the first to include both Greek and Roman orders.”
— Haviland’s entry in Americanbuildings.org
My favorite Haviland building is the Walnut Street Theatre, America’s oldest playhouse. The original building was a circus hippodrome; Strickland was hired (1811) to turn it into a playhouse, and his work includes the stage and flies and orchestra “pit.” But in 1828, Haviland was hired to renovate the hall with a new facade, and his lovely Neo-classical designs are what greets the playgoer today.

The august Walmut Street Theatre. 
FRANK FURNESS, b, 1839, d. 1912
Furness was the master of the post-Civil War era. His was the time of the railroads, of industrialization, and rapid urbanization. The son of Philly’s leading Unitarian minister, he was a genius sui generis. His buildings defined the “look” of Victorian Philadelphia, and though nobody adopted his style — nobody could — his influence on subsequent generations of architects was profound. (He is also, probably, the only architect to be awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor, for bravery during the waning days of the Civil War.)
His Broad Street Station was the largest train terminal in the world; his Provident Bank stood head-and-shoulders above the conventional buildings in the Chestnut Street financial district. His churches, mansions and country homes sheltered the big-wig families who were later sketched in “The Philadelphia Story.” Almost ALL his buildings have been torn down, victims of myopic 20th-century “redevelopment” schemes that hated urbanism and Victorianism in equal measure. Fortunately, two of his greatest and most innovative buildings survive, both at educational institutions. The Library of the University of Pennsylvania revolutionized libraries, and the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts transformed fine arts study. Both narrowly escaped destruction or dismemberment, and have come to be beloved by generations of students. Behold:





The Pride of College Green: the “Old Library,” now Penn’s fine arts library.




The Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts, where Thomas Eakins taught Mary Cassatt, for instance.
LIT BROTHERS: “HATS TRIMMED FREE OF CHARGE”
Lits was founded by a woman, a milliner, and ladies’ hats — Victorian hats, covered with feathers, plumes, cherries, twigs, birds, bangles and beads — were their fortune.
“In 1891, Rachel P. Lit (1858-1919, later surnamed Weddel, still later Arnold) opened a woman’s clothing shop on the corner of Market and N. 8th Streets. With the administration and innovative advertising techniques of her brothers, Colonel Samuel David Lit (1859-1929) and Jacob David Lit (1872-1950), their small store soon became one of the largest retail stores in Philadelphia. From 1895 to 1907, the store continued to expand, with the company taking over the remaining buildings on the block of Market between North 7th and 8th Streets – including the J. M. Maris Dry Goods Store, the Bailey Store and the J. B. Lippincott & Co. Building – and adding new buildings at either end of the block designed to blend in with the existing buildings. With alterations and additions, the Lit Brothers Store became the only full block of Victorian architecture in Philadelphia, composed of 33 buildings constructed between 1859 and 1918, with a common interior. The new buildings and the alterations were designed by Charles M. Autenreith and Edward Collins. Although the store on Market Street was often called the “cast-iron building”, only two of original building’s facades (at 719-721 Market and 714-718 Arch Street) are actually cast iron. The other buildings are brick, faced with marble or granite. The two end buildings are brick and terra-cotta, with galvanized iron trim and octagonal towers. The uniformity of the entire Renaissance Revival-style acade is supported by the use of a classical arch window in all of the buildings, which are painted the same color.”
— Wikipedia article on Lit Brothers

THE FIRST MODERN SKYSCRAPER IN AMERICA: PSFS

“To replace their Walnut Street headquarters, the Philadelphia Saving Fund Society (PSFS) began planning a new building on Market Street. Under direction of bank President James M. Wilcox, they began seeking designs for a building, of which that by architects William Lescaze and George Howe was accepted. Together, with influence from Wilcox, they designed the new PSFS Building. Completed in 1932 at a cost of $8 million, the PSFS Building was a modern departure from traditional bank architecture and other Philadelphia skyscrapers. Designed in the International Style, te building was the first skyscraper of its type built in the United States. Part of the modern amenities installed to attract tenants included radio reception devices installed in each of the building’s offices by the RCA Victor company.The skyscraper was completed during the Great Depression, and the neon initials of the Philadelphia Saving Fund Society were kept lit throughout the economic troubles to create a symbol of hope and consistency for the city. In the early part of the Depression the initials were jokingly said to mean “Philadelphia Slowly Faces Starvation.” Over the years, the building with its sign became a Philadelphia landmark.”
— Wikipedia article on PSFS
Patient Reader, thanks for following this Long View. Just remember, scrolling through the blog saves you from the fate of following one of my Death Marches through Philadelphia in a freezing drizzle.


















