Frick's Monument to Himself

The Frick Building towers over Grant Street in Pittsburgh.

Henry Clay Frick was a colossus among titans during the Gilded Age and beyond. Frick initially made his mark by creating a firm that turned Southwestern Pennsylvania coal into coke, a prime ingredient in the steel-making process, which brought him to the attention of steel baron Andrew Carnegie.

Frick became a Carnegie partner and the two made plenty of tax-free profits until the violent Homestead Strike and other frictions ruptured their personal and business relationships permanently. (Years later, Carnegie reportedly requested a face-to-face meeting with Frick, who supposedly told a go-between, "Tell Mr. Carnegie I'll see him in hell.")

Befitting his stature, Frick commissioned Chicago architect Daniel Burnham to create what would become the tallest building in Pittsburgh when it opened in 1902. Frick wanted it to be so tall that it would put the neighboring Carnegie Building in a perpetual shadow.

When it opened, the building had 20 floors, including a basement. But when the level of Grant Street was lowered in 1912, a new entrance had to be created in the basement.

Burnham also designed an annex, seen here in the left of the photo, which opened three years later.

In the marble-clad lobby are two bronze lions sculpted by Alexander Proctor and a stained-glass window, "Fortune and Her Wheel," made by John LaFarge.

The Frick Building and Annex was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1978.

Burnham was a skyscraper pioneer who created the Flatiron Building in New York and Union Station in Washington, and supervised the "White City" of Chicago's World's Columbian Exposition in 1893.

For more on Burnham's fascinating career, see: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daniel_Burnham

Darkness on Sunset

Norma Desmond (Gloria Swanson) draws
Joe Gillis (William Holden) deeper into her web
in a film noir and cinema classic, Sunset Boulevard.

Sunset Boulevard (1950, Paramount)

Starring William Holden, Gloria Swanson,

Erich von Stroheim, Nancy Olson and Jack Webb.

Written by Billy Wilder & Charles Brackett. 

Directed by Billy Wilder

All right, Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my close-up.

 — Norma Desmond

The above line is one of the most quoted — and misquoted — lines in movie history from a film that stands among the best ever produced. It’s delivered by an unforgettable character, Norma Desmond (Gloria Swanson), whose slide into insanity is complete at the end of the story.

A film that opens the can of worms that is Hollywood, “Sunset Boulevard” tells the tale of what happened when Joe Gillis (William Holden), a hack screenwriter, became the boy toy of Desmond, a huge star in the silent era whose career crashed with the coming of sound.

The end of their sordid affair is revealed at the start, when Gillis’ body is fished out of the pool after he was shot several times by the deranged Desmond. The story then is told in a flashback narrated by the deceased!

What follows are real places and situations that aren’t disguised, such as the Paramount gate and studio, and Cecil B. DeMille, as well as how stories go in one end of the movie factory and come out the other changed completely.

The film also features real situations draped in fiction. Swanson was a major star before the talkies took hold, and DeMille directed her in some of her biggest hits. Desmond’s butler, Max von Mayerling (Eric von Stroheim), was her director and former husband. The film screened for Gillis by Desmond in reality was “Queen Kelly,” starring Swanson and directed by von Stroheim.

The jaded Gillis’ downfall came after he became disgusted with his role as a kept man. After he showed Betty Schaefer (Nancy Olson), the young woman who is engaged to his best friend (Jack Webb) but loved Gillis, his sleazy way of life, he decided to pack up and leave. He soon discovers nobody walks out on Norma Desmond.

I am big. It was the pictures that got small.

That is another Desmond line to remember. It also can describe the vast number of movies that followed and most of those that preceded this fascinating film noir.

With terrific performances by all — including DeMille — and the usual biting wit that was Wilder and Brackett’s trademark, “Sunset Boulevard” gets better with each viewing. 

Double the Treachery, Double the Fun

Phyllis Dietrichson (Barbara Stanwyck) draws Walter

Neff (Fred Mac Murray) deeper into her web of

murder and deceit in Double Indemnity.

Double Indemnity (1944, Paramount)

Starring Fred MacMurray, Barbara Stanwyck,

Edward G. Robinson
Screenplay by Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler,
based on a novella by James M. Cain

Directed by Billy Wilder

“I killed him for the money and a woman.
I didn’t get the money, and I didn’t get the woman.” — Walter Neff

While many consider Double Indemnity to be the first in the series of bleak movies made in the 1940s and 1950s that became known as film noir, others insist that it’s The Maltese Falcon, which was released in 1941. (I lean toward the more-obscure Stranger on the Third Floor, which was released in 1940.) However, the argument matters little because Billy Wilder, who directed and wrote the screenplay with Raymond Chandler, author of The Big Sleep, created one of the best in Double Indemnity.

The familiar storyline of a corruptible man drawn into nefarious activities by an alluring femme fatale and kept from escaping by his obsession with her rarely was executed as brilliantly. Despite their contentious relationship, Wilder and Chandler crafted a fascinating and taut script that dripped with the sharp dialogue, such as the line above, that was Chandler’s trademark.

A fine cast brought Wilder and Chandler’s vision to life. Fred MacMurray, well-known at the time as the star of light comedies and later to Baby Boomers as a TV dad on My Three Sons, wanted nothing to do with this sordid tale. Wilder wore him down until MacMurray finally signed on and turned in an excellent performance as Walter Neff, who records the tale of his downfall on a Dictaphone in his office at Pacific All-Risk Insurance and narrates the flashbacks that make up the bulk of the film. 

Barbara Stanwyck’s Phyllis Dietrichson, brandishing a cheap blond wig, an anklet that immediately mesmerized Walter and an irresistible urge to kill her husband for money, staked her claim as the queen of the femmes fatale. Few are as ruthless or have pulled the strings on their men as deftly as Phyllis does. Edward G. Robinson’s portrayal of wily insurance investigator Barton Keyes is a tour de force. Keyes’ hunches unnerve Walter and drive much of the action.

The role played by veteran cinematographer John Seitz can’t be overlooked. A mainstay at Paramount since the days of silent film legend Rudolph Valentino, Seitz was a master of the shadows and light that became a trademark of later films noir. He also employed “venetian blind” lighting, which throws shadows akin to prison bars on guilty characters and became a cliche through overuse. Seitz worked with Wilder on Sunset Boulevard and The Lost Weekend.

It might be going too far to call it a masterpiece, but few films depicting people brought to ruin by greed and lust can match Double Indemnity.

It's a Grand Old Flag

The Flag Monument, which was dedicated on the 150th

anniversary of the U.S. flag, was made possible by the pennies

of more than 180,000 Allegheny County school children.

While this is too late for Flag Day, it’s early for flag waving on the Fourth of July.

With the 150th anniversary of the American flag's creation approaching, the now-defunct Pittsburgh Chronicle Telegraph announced it would mark the occasion with the erection of a bronze tablet funded by the pennies of school children.

In four weeks, the students contributed 188,163 pennies and their names were inscribed on an honor roll buried in a monument built in Schenley Park, near the future site of the Westinghouse Memorial, and dedicated June 14, 1927, on Flag Day.

Here's an editorial that ran in the Chronicle Telegraph the following day:

Flag Day in Pittsburgh, 1941

Most significant of the many interesting features of Pittsburgh's Flag Day celebrations was the unveiling of the monument commemorating the one hundred and fiftieth anniversary of our national emblem, made possible by the contributions of Allegheny County's school children.

More than 188,000 boys and girls participated in this notable tribute to the flag and gift to the community by giving one penny each through The Chronicle Telegraph in cooperation with the American Flag Day Association. The names of all contributors were printed in this newspaper and have been placed in a niche of the memorial tablet for permanent preservation.

This monument, consisting of a giant granite base and bronze tablet suitably inscribed, is unique both in design and purpose. Our community is the first in the land thus to mark the sesquicentennial of the country's flag, and never before has there been such a practical expression of their patriotism by a host of school children, eager to prove their devotion to America's beautiful emblem.

The Chronicle Telegram is proud to have had the privilege of cooperating in this great work in which the boys and girls of Allegheny County have so loyally assisted. Thanks to their generous response, our city will possess a beautiful and enduring reminder of the origin and meaning of the Stars and Stripes, teaching its impressive lesson to all frequenters of Pittsburgh's principal pleasure ground.

A closer look at the flag monument

Vengeance knows no age

Anthony Quinn, left, Dana Andrews, Henry Fonda and Frank Conroy
contributed wonderful performances to The Ox-Bow Incident.

The Ox-Bow Incident

(1943, Twentieth Century-Fox)

Starring Henry Fonda, Dana Andrews,

Anthony Quinn, Harry Morgan, Harry Davenport

Screenplay by Lamar Trotti

Directed by William Wellman

“A man just naturally can’t take the law into his own hands

and hang people without hurtin’ everybody
in the world.” — Gil Martin

Classic films often are “classic” because they continue to be relevant long after their release. That’s certainly the case with The Ox-Bow Incident, a 70-year-old picture that resonates with today’s headlines. In an age when terrorist attacks prompt a fearful populace to demand the instant identification of the perpetrators, regardless of the innocent lives that are ruined before the true killers are captured, this study of how prejudice and the often irresistible thirst for vengeance takes a heavy toll on everyone deserves attention.

The film is classified as a western because of its setting, but few of the usual conventions found in westerns are present. And the wide-open spaces so common of films in the genre are mostly exchanged for obvious studio and backlot sets, whose close quarters add to the claustrophobic feel of the tragic story.

It all starts in a small Nevada town, where a report of a popular rancher’s murder sparks the formation of a posse to track down the alleged killers and lynch them, despite the urging of a judge and a store owner to bring the offenders in to face trial. Eventually, the posse stumbles upon three sleeping men with a herd of cattle, and circumstantial evidence points to them being the killers. Donald Martin (Dana Andrews), the boss of the outfit, unsuccessfully pleads their innocence.

The shop owner and Gil Carter (Fonda) are moved by Martin and try to persuade the others to do the right thing. But the majority votes to hang the men, and the deed is carried out in a scene in which the dreadful act isn’t pictured, but the impact certainly isn’t lessened. Of course, the men are innocent, as it’s soon revealed the rancher is still alive and those responsible have been arrested.

The Ox-Bow Incident features a well-written, dark and compelling story of the danger of mob rule, as well as some striking performances, especially by Andrews. Fonda’s character is a witness as some individuals in the mob have other motives for committing the lynching while most were easily led down this slippery slope. Eventually, Gil stops being a witness and tries, in vain, to halt the inevitable.

Heavy stuff, I know, but great films often challenge audience members and enlighten those who take up the challenge.

Fatal Attraction

Jeff Bailey (Robert Mitchum) will regret the day he
met the ravishing Kathie Moffat (Jane Greer)
in Out of the Past, the quintessential film noir.

Out of the Past (1947, RKO Radio)

Starring Robert Mitchum, Jane Greer, Kirk Douglas
Screenplay by Geoffrey Homes (Daniel Mainwaring)

Directed by Jacques Tourneur

“But I didn’t take anything. I didn’t, Jeff.

Don’t you believe me?”— Kathie Moffat

“Baby, I don’t care.” — Jeff Bailey

Many film noir protagonists wind up taking the big sleep at the end of the movie. In Out of the Past, the male lead becomes a dead man walking the instant he glimpses the woman who will be his downfall.

Jeff Bailey (Robert Mitchum) is a mystery man to the good folks in Bridgeport, even after several years of running a gas station there. However, a face from, er, out of the past appears at Jeff’s business to draft him into the service of Whit (Kirk Douglas), a mob boss who Jeff double-crossed several years earlier. Jeff reveals the details of the sordid affair to his girlfriend as they head toward his rendezvous with Whit.

In a flashback that features Jeff’s sardonic voice-over, we watch as Whit hires him to find Kathie Moffat (Jane Greer), Whit’s lover, who shot him and ran off with $40,000, and to bring her back. Jeff tracks her to Mexico, where he watches the slinky Kathie stroll out of the sunlight into the darkness of a cantina. Jeff is totally captivated by this vision (as was I), and from that moment he knows he won’t be taking her back to Whit. What he doesn’t know is he also signed his own death warrant.

This meeting sparks an exhilarating ride that runs through a world dominated by greed, lust and a vain struggle to get out of the adventure alive. Greer brings to life the most fatal of femmes fatale, who doesn’t hesitate to switch sides or gun men down when she feels threatened. Mitchum fleshes out Jeff grandly as a smart guy who knows the angles, but that knowledge couldn’t keep him from being ensnared by this treacherous beauty.

With its dark shadows, where danger and deceit lurk, Out of the Past is a visually stunning film and is my pick as the best of master film noir cinematographer Nicholas Musuraca’s repertoire. As you’ll find in the best films noir, great dialogue, like the quotes above, snaps throughout. On imdb.com, fans have filled four pages commenting about the best lines.

Stay away from Against All Odds, the awful 1980s remake. You need to know only two things:

1) It was made in the '80s
2) Jeff Bridges plays the Mitchum role

Out of the Past is one of my favorite movies from any genre, and I find it exciting and entertaining to explore the dreamworld that is film noir.

Mellon Treasure Plundered

This was how the majestic banking floor of Mellon
Bank's landmark building looked before being gutted
to house a short-lived Lord & Taylor store.

This blog has featured success stories of historic buildings and sites that, through the foresight and passion of their owners, have made a successful transition into the 21st century.

These places, large and small, from the Schenley Hotel to Highland Towers to the McCook Mansion, remain functional and add a great deal to the landscape of Pittsburgh.

This is a story about the tragic loss of an architectural gem that was lost for no good reason.

The powerful Mellon family commissioned the architectural firm of Trowbridge and Livingston, which also designed the Gulf Building on Grant Street for the Mellons, to create a palace of money for them downtown.

Opened in 1924 on Smithfield Street, the Classical structure displayed a solid, conservative face to the city while the interior featured a forest of tall, Ionic columns that added dignity to the open banking floor.

Called “the Cathedral of Earning” by some witty folks, the interior was a remnant from another age.

But it wasn’t destined to last forever.

In 1999, then Mayor Tom Murphy, in an attempt to revive downtown Pittsburgh, lured Lord & Taylor to open a department store in the building.

The city pumped nearly $12 million into the effort that ripped the heart out of the banking floor by pulling down the columns.

However, Lord & Taylor couldn’t compete and pulled out in November 2004.

It’s been empty ever since.

In his book “Buildings of Pittsburgh,” Pitt professor Franklin Toker laments the fate of this elegant space:

“Serene and majestic on the outside, Mellon Bank has covered the block of Smithfield between Fifth Avenue and Mellon Square since 1924, but it has been destroyed inside. The long and airy banking hall, one of Pittsburgh's prime architectural and social spaces, vanished in 1999 when its short-sighted owners and an overeager city hall let Lord and Taylor rebuild it as a faux-Manhattan emporium.

“Fifteen tons of Italian marble in each of the Ionic columns was smashed and hauled away, leaving just their steel cores. Gone was the vast basilica-like space of the hall, 65 feet tall and 200 feet long; gone were the aisles coffered and painted deep blue with speckles of gold leaf; gone was any hint that the world's earliest venture capitalists once operated out of Pittsburgh.

“Befitting its place at the heart of Mellon operations, the hall commemorated [Andrew W.] and [Richard Beatty] Mellon with portraits and inscriptions on the walls of the vault.

"After Lord and Taylor's quick demise a few years later, the now banal interior awaits some new use.”

While it’s true that the building had been empty for some time before the tragic Lord & Taylor enterprise, that fact didn’t justify what was done to a unique building that New York would have been proud to claim.

However, the grand building will be re-entering the banking business after being purchased by PNC Bank in June, 2012, for $3.85 million. PNC expects to move 800 employees there in late 2013 or 2014 when renovations are complete.

In a June 11, 2012, story published in the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review, a PNC spokesperson said, “Our plan is to restore the exterior architectural integrity of the building, and we are considering restoring it to its original condition.”

It’s gratifying that someone wants to correct the great wrongs committed against this fine building.

The stately former Mellon Bank building is a shell
of its former self, but PNC Bank is riding to the rescue.

Mellon postscript

While doing research for this blog entry, I found a Pittsburgh Post-Gazette review of the biography of Thomas Mellon – founder of the family fortune and dynasty – written by his great-great grandson, James.

Thomas Mellon

A dour man whose only interest was business and the gaining of even larger piles of money, Thomas Mellon objected to city taxpayers supplying $40,000 for the creation of the Carnegie Library and the construction of H.H. Richardson’s internationally renowned masterpiece, the Allegheny County Courthouse. A plain brick one would do for him.

But what struck me about this piece was how little things have changed in 150 years.

With the Civil War raging and the Union, as well as his business interests, threatened, James Mellon, 18, wanted his father’s permission to put off learning the coal and iron business to enlist in the Army.

In withholding his permission, the elder Mellon held a belief that he saw as trumping any idea of patriotism or duty: His son should be making money.

This is what he told James:

"I had hoped my boy was going to make a smart, intelligent business man and was not such a goose as to be seduced from his duty by the declamations of buncombed [or bullshit] speeches."

So, just like today, the poor of the 1860s fought the fight for the rich.