Thirty-nine Lions on Atlanta's Glenn Building

The Atlanta lion count continues with the Glenn Building, 1923, designed by Waddy B. Wood.


The lions are way up in the elaborate cornice.

 
As long as I've been here, it was dumpy, frumpy, and seedy. The 2006 redevelopment into the Glenn Hotel deserves high praise.


It's the last classy, classical building on the west side of downtown.

There's nothing nearby left from it's era. The Omni, (now CNN Center), the former Federal Reserve, 101 Marietta (now Centennial Tower), the digital billboard with the giant clock, the Centennial Park light towers, are practical, impressive, modern, "activated" pop.

It's a vibrant area but my eye prefers the Glenn.

Let's count lions.


There is one lion on the rear of the building which faces southwest.


Eighteen lions on the Spring Street side.


There are nineteen lions on the front which faces Marietta Street.


Lion thirty-nine flies solo over the northwest side.

More lions:

• Candler Building Lions: 31 in the Cornice and 4 at the doors.
• Sixty Lions on the Ellis Hotel's Cornice - Really - I Counted Them

Please submit your lion count request in the comments.

Bonus lions:


The Ponce Apartments (now Ponce Condominiums) lions guard Midtown

Candler Building Lions: 31 in the Cornice and 4 at the doors.

Atlanta's Candler Building opened in 1906 with a full complement of Lions. Two things first. One, if you aren't from Atlanta: The Candlers were Coca-Cola. Two, if you are in downtown Atlanta: Walk into the lobby, thank me later.

 
I'm on a hunt. My last post was "Sixty Lions on the Ellis Hotel's Cornice - Really - I Counted Them." A kind reader wondered about the Candler lions. Here we go.


The south cornice has four lions.


The east cornice has eleven lions.


The north cornice has six lions.


The west cornice has ten lions.


The other "south cornice" doesn't have a cornice or lions.

That's 31 lions in cornice.


The east entrance has two Lions.


The west entrance has two lions.

That's 35 lions in all. Have I missed any? Let me know.

Next?


The lion count on the Glenn Hotel.

Morrow, Georgia's Classical Niches with Urns

The Morrow First United Methodist Church (1967) is the best building on this stretch of Jonesboro Road, a rather pleasant, practical, sparse, green, burger, nail-care, big box road along the tracks.


Its portico has two fine niches with urns. I'm at a loss about why these are so appealing to me but there you go.

Morrow has Spivey Hall and Clayton State University but you can't see them from the road and they aren't designed for show.

Morrow has two important if unexpected side by side moderns: The National Archives at Atlanta and The Georgia Archives.Both are warehouses fronted by impressive facades activated with modern facade pizazz. They catch my eye but don't make me care.


Wren-Gibbs style churches are everywhere. But there's SOMETHING about First Methodist. I couldn't figure it out when I was driving 45. So I stopped for a minute last Saturday.

William R. Tapp Jr. Architect Associates used some fine if modest detailing in 1967. Mr. Tapp, 1922-2011 was a Georgia Tech alum who designed a lot of buildings around here though this is my first encounter. His name is carved into a niche plaque.


The design "money" is in the portico...


...and in the niches. Isn't it amazing how the urn's shadows and reflections color and shade the niche.

Perhaps I'll do Morrow First Baptist another day. It's on Lake Harbin.


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Leete Hall 1922 at Carver High

I had no idea! I'd seen it at a distance but never up close until last Saturday. I was returning from Spivey Hall the long way, up Jonesboro Road through South Atlanta. A train blocked Hank Aaron at McDonough at University so I turned in.


This is the view you see in pictures, a Tudor tower on a little rise.

It's over the top in the very best way.



Carver High, George Washington Carver High School, is now the "The New Schools at Carver." But the main building we see today is Leete Hall (1922) designed by Alexander Hamilton and Henry White Jr.. In 1922 this was the campus of Clark University and Gammon College, now Gammon Theological Seminary I think. The colleges moved out of South Atlanta in 1941.


It's like a cathedral.


I was totally alone on the campus. It's not a huge place but I was overwhelmed.


I needed hours to spot the details.


Every corner deserved a closeup.


The backside is better than most front-sides.


Remarkable to see a cross on a school these days.


Now I know.


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St. Augustine Lighthouse (1871) by Paul J. Pelz, Chief Archtiect for Library of Congress

Paul Pelz designed St. Augustine Lighthouse - among others - when he was in his early 30's.

I presume there are no new lighthouse commissions, our stock almost all pre-modern. The Sullivan's Island Lighthouse from 1962, is among the last.

 
The St. Augustine Light is 165 feet tall and pretty close the Anastasia Boulevard but you still might miss it. Look east as you near the Alligator Farm. (See Map below)

Luckily it's one the most accessible lighthouses on the east coast. It's open every day except Thanksgiving and Christmas. It's not free, I paid $9.75 which let me go everywhere for the day.

It's on Facebook and Twitter @firstlighthouse. It's still an official aid to navigation, a fixed light with a 30 second flash.

It's beautiful and it performs.


In social media, you should do 1/3 business, 1/3 inspiration, and 1/3 puppies. Lighthouses must be the puppies of architecture blogging, they are irresistible.


Check out those chimneys. You enter here to make the climb. The guy under the umbrella sells water and answers questions; he probably has 911 on speed-dial. He thought I could make it.


Here's the bottom. It's a democratic meritocracy on the stair. There's a quiet comradery among the climbers. Children's chatter echos. Families make memories. Older folks wonder if they'll be able to do it next year.


There are half turns and landings.


You spiral past the west facing windows which are open. On my climb it was quite cool inside.


The landing windows face east toward the keeper's house and the ocean.


Near the top you can see how they put it together. "Constructed of Alabama brick and Philadelphia iron."


Whoa, you go from enclosed to wide open. I'm looking north toward Vilano Beach. Estimating that my camera is about 145 feet off the ground, the horizon is 14.8 miles away.


It was windy and wonderful and I held on really tight.


You could see the light and the lens above...


...and the Keeper's House below.

There's much more to see but the eye takes it in better than the camera.

  Folks coming down aren't in a hurry, slow to give up hard-won "ground," regretting not staying up a little longer.


The Keepers' House is big and beautiful, three floors of interesting things. Folks lived here until they automated the light in 1955.


A model of the 1824 St. Augustine Light.


A last look at the chimneys, acroteria, brackets, blind arches, balustrades, board & batten, and Flemish bond.

I'll be back and I'll be back to the Ponce de Leon Inlet lighthouse too.



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It Feels Wrong: My Unfavorite Places on the Modern Atlanta '13 Tour

Short answer: Some of the stair hand rails. They should fell so safe and so comfortable that we don't even notice them.

It makes me wonder: is everything is up for grabs every time?

 
Of course not as Cara Cummins said at a MA13 panel, "We're not designing white elephants."

Designers/architects would never violate the "stair ratio." We'd know something was wrong; our bodies would know something was wrong. Granny would fall, we'd fall. Dangerous stairs can ruin a house or a garden.


MA13 Panel: Linda O�Keeffe �Whats Modern Now� with Cara Cummins, principal at TaC Studios, design consultant Smith Hanes, founder at Flags of Origin, and architect/interior designer Shawn Alshut of studio A2.


We might not notice a bad kitchen triangle with our eye. But once we started cooking when we'd know something was wrong. We'd feel it even if we didn't know how to fix it.


Out on the tour, I expect proper kitchen triangles, proper stair ratios, and proper handrails though they might look out of the ordinary.

It went like this for me. I think to myself, "Cool Stairs" and start the climb.

Then I'd feel the handrail and, "Ugh."

I'd find my hand on an uncomfortable edge, on a rail that was too big or small, on a rail that forced me to look. The first one didn't bug me too much. The second, third, and fourth ones did.

I'd guess stairs are one of the few places in a modern that beg for detailing. The diagonals, the turns, the height can make the drama and the delight.

I'm all for designing drama and delight if you don't screw up the hand rail.