In 1898, before the Berzelius Society at Yale built their present “tomb” in New Haven, the organization funded one of the finest residence halls in town at the time. The building was known as “The Colony” and would house Seniors who were members of the secret society. Located on Hillhouse Avenue, the stately Colonial Revival/Neoclassical building was designed by architects Henry Bacon and James Brite. Bacon is best known for having designed the Lincoln Memorial on the National Mall. Yale purchased the Colony dormitory in 1933 for student housing, later using it for faculty offices before demolishing it in 1969 to facilitate construction of the Yale Health Services Center, one of the least inspiring buildings on the campus.
Alumni Hall at Yale was designed and built between 1851-1853, at the northwest corner of Yale’s Old Campus. Its was designed by Gothic specialist architect Alexander Jackson Davis, who completed Dwight Hall (the Old Library) a some years prior. The building had a large, open floorplan on the first floor for large gatherings as well as the entrance examinations, along with the biennial examinations that every student had to take at the end of his sophomore and senior years. As the building turned 50 years old, the campus around it was already looking very different. Shifting priorities for dormitory space in the yard necessitated its demolition for Wright Hall (next post). Alumni Hall was razed in 1911, but its two crenelated towers were salvaged when the building was demolished. They were incorporated into Weir Hall which has been incorporated into Jonathan Edwards College, one of Yale’s residential colleges.
One of the biggest architectural losses at Yale was the demolition of the grandiose Osborn Hall in 1926, after standing less than 38 years! The building was constructed in 1888 at the southeast corner of the Old Yard at Yale, at the corner of College and Chapel streets, and was a landmark example of the Richardsonian Romanesque style of architecture. Designed by architect Bruce Price, the building was designed to face outward and was said to resemble a “squating toad with an open lip”. While architecturally stunning, the building was immediately met with criticism. Its construction necessitated the removal of the cherished Yale fence and the outward-facing design made it hard for students to focus on lectures while the sounds of horses and carriages on the cobblestone streets just outside. The short-lived Osborn Hall was razed in 1926 for Bingham Hall (next post), a prominently designed, but inward-facing building.
Even skyscrapers face the wrecking-ball…The Powell Building was among New Haven’s first building recognized as a “skyscraper.” Built in 1921, the commercial building is Neo-Gothic Revival in style with the two bottom stories and the two top stories are detailed in Gothic motifs, with eight more plain floors between. The resulting shaft-like appearance distinguishes the Powell Building from other contemporary commercial structures in the city, which are essentially heightened versions of various historical styles. The architect, Roy W. Foote, was among New Haven’s leading architects in the first half of the 20th century, largely due to his local efforts in high-rise construction. The Powell Building was erected as a speculative venture by Albert H. Powell, whose primary business was a wholesale coal dealership. Early occupants were professional offices and a bank at the first floor. The building historically was located at the New Haven Green, between the Victorian Gothic City Hall and Classical Federal Courthouse. The building was sadly razed by 1990 by the New Haven Redevelopment Authority, who were VERY active in town knocking down neighborhoods in the second half of the 20th century. It was replaced by the Connecticut Financial Center skyscraper, currently New Haven’s tallest building.
Historically, inns and taverns offered short-term stays for visitors to New Haven, Connecticut. As the town developed and Yale College grew, land-owners began to realize the potential for larger, centrally located hotels. Established in 1824 and fronting the Town Green, the Tontine Hotel stood for less than 100 years, but was a prominent establishment in the city. The hotel was designed by architect David Hoadley and it hosted many well-known individuals including Native American chief and orator Red Jacket, who gave a speech here in 1829, and Daniel Webster, who came here in 1832. When more modern hotels were built in the early 20th century, the Tontine saw declining and less fancy clientele. The site was slated for redevelopment and the block was demolished in 1913 for the new Federal Courthouse and Post Office (last post).
This one took me a while to write about because it still pains me to see it was demolished… The Arlington Building was constructed in 1904 as a mid-block building on Boylston Street, across from the Public Garden for the Bryant and Stratton Commercial School. It was designed by architect William Gibbons Rantoul of the firm Andrews, Jacques & Rantoul in the Beaux Arts style. The school building was significantly altered when Arlington Street was extended southward through Boylston Street, making this building suddenly a corner landmark. The new Arlington Street elevation was modeled after the Boylston Street facade. By 1929, Shreve, Crump & Low, established in 1796, the oldest purveyor of luxury goods in North America, moved into the building. The next year, they hired architect William T. Aldrich to add Art Deco embellishments and storefront designs, along with interior renovations to modernize the structure. The luxury company had downsized and moved out of the building, and its prominent site was threatened when owner/developer Druker Co. submitted for a demolition permit to raze the building (and others on the block) to erect a modern office/commercial building. After years of fighting between local preservationists and business interests and developers, the latter won and the building was demolished by late 2022. The new building, 350 Boylston Street, is presently undergoing construction, and in my opinion, is a poor attempt to fit into the surrounding context and is neither as unique or inspiring as the former building.
The Little River area of Waterbury, Vermont, was a very sparsely developed area of farms located on the slope of Ricker Mountain, which was difficult to traverse and farm. Almeron Goodell (1834-1910) and his wife Luthera bought farmland here in 1863 and built this farmhouse that year from rough-hewn timbers on the land. In 1870, the couple and their seven-year-old son, Bert, had four cows, one horse, and a flock of chickens on their property – enough to supply the family’s needs. Life on Ricker Mountain was hard. By the late 1800s, the loss of soil fertility on the land prompted some farmers to abandon the hillsides for more fertile land in the valleys nearby or the free land offered in the American West. Additionally, the Green Mountain Power Company began purchasing farmland to erect a hydroelectric dam and reservoir in 1920, effectively abandoning the area. The Little River area was left behind, with abandoned farms, family cemeteries, and carriage roads, slowly returning back to the earth. Luckily for us, the area is preserved as part of the Little River State Park, where you can hike and explore the area, learning about the past inhabitants of the now ghost village. The Goodell Farmhouse is the only extant farmhouse left from this early settlement and a lasting reminder of how hard life was for many who settled in undeveloped land in New England. The farmhouse was used as a hunting lodge in the 1940s, likely the only reason it still stands to this day.
Not much remains of one of Roxbury’s once grand rural estates, but as there is some left, I want to feature it before it’s all gone, possibly any day now! Horatio Harris was born in Dorchester (present-day South Boston) in 1821 and ran a prominent auction house in Boston. He built his country estate in Roxbury beginning in 1857 in the Gothic Revival style, adding on and updating numerous times. During the Civil War, the firm of Horatio Harris & Co. obtained the contract to sell at auction all goods which were confiscated by the United States’ land or naval forces and brought to Boston. He made a lot of money and added to his land holdings and estate house in Roxbury. The mansion’s construction was timely as Roxbury was transitioning from a rural town, with farms and country estates of wealthy Boston merchants, to a streetcar suburb, increasing the land value of his holdings. The estate included nearly 30 acres of meandering paths, a lake with an island, outbuildings, and an observation tower – one of which remain today besides the ruin of the former mansion. Horatio died in 1876, in the decades following his death, his heirs began subdividing the estate, developing some and selling other plots off for houselots. By the early 1900s, Jewish people began moving into Roxbury, mixing with the predominantly Yankee population. By 1915, the Harris manor house was owned by the Hebrew Alliance of Roxbury, Inc. By the 1920s, they expanded facilities, adding a school building to the front of the former Harris Mansion, completely obscuring the facade of the old estate. In the 1940s, the upper stories were removed. Seemingly the death knell of the old Harris Villa was a fire in 2019, which gutted much of the remaining original fabric of the estate. All that remains is a bay window, some window trim details and a Gothic porte-cochere at the rear of the estate. See it before it’s too late!
Situated along the Shetucket River in Sprague, Connecticut, lies the remains of what was once the nation’s largest textile mill. At its peak, over 1,000 employees operated 1,750 looms and 70,000 spindles to produce some of the country’s finest cotton. The Baltic Mill (as it became known) not only helped reshape Connecticut’s economic and cultural landscape, but its geographic one as well, giving rise to the founding of an entirely new village. The Baltic Mill did very well until the economic Panic of 1873 set in, decimating the company’s finances. The mill was forced to scale back their operations. Then, in 1877, a fire destroyed the interior of the mill, bringing an end to the complex for decades. At the turn of the 20th century, a businessman from Pawtucket, Rhode Island, named Frederick Sayles purchased the property with an eye toward revitalizing the local textile industry. He founded the Baltic Mills Company and set about making extensive repairs and upgrades to the property, including this c.1890 storage building for materials and finished textiles. Unfortunately for Sayles, the New England textile industry had already begun to decline and it wasn’t long before the company’s depleted finances forced Sayles to sell off much of its assets. The company did survive long enough to produce uniforms, parachutes, and life rafts for soldiers in World War II, but the mill’s operations ultimately came to a halt in 1966. The large 19th century mill would eventually be demolished, but this old Warehouse (a fraction of the size of the mill) is one of the last industrial pieces of the former sprawling complex and is now occupied by local businesses.
Built as the summer residence of Mr. Eben Rollins Morse and Mrs. Marion Steedman Morse of Boston and New York, Villa Rosa was one of the finest summer cottages in Newport. The property was purchased by Mr. and Mrs. Morse, which originally included three, large estates two of which were featured previously. Mr. Morse was a stockbroker and investment banker, and the couple lived on Commonwealth Avenue in Boston, maintaining a summer home in Beverly, Massachusetts. In 1900, the couple hired Ogden Codman, Jr., a society architect and historian from Boston, to design a townhome in New York (their new permanent home) and Newport, where they could summer with other wealthy New Yorkers. Their cottage, Villa Rosa, was a huge statement, likely to insert themselves into the high-society of Newport summers. Oriented to the south, rather than to Bellevue Avenue, the house took maximum advantage of its long narrow setting. The exterior of the house was covered in pastel pink stucco offset with white bas-relief panels and was crowned by a copper dome. The heart of the house was the green trellised circular Music Room or Ballroom, the first room in the United States to incorporate lattice design as a decorative scheme. The property was eventually sold for $21,500 to E.A. McNulty, a Rhode Island contractor. Ogden Codman’s masterpiece was demolished in December of 1962 and an apartment complex built on the site in 1965. Townhouse condominiums replaced the gardens in the 1970s and the gateposts, a final vestige, were cleared in 2004.
Believe it or not, but Newport, Rhode Island was once a “tear-down town”. Despite having arguably the largest extant collection of Gilded Age mansions, many older, properties were razed and redeveloped as tastes changed between the mid-19th century and the turn of the 20th century. And then there was the 1960s… But that’s for another time. This stunning mansion formerly on Bellevue Avenue was built in 1870 for Elizabeth Underhill Coles (1813-1891), the widow of William F. Coles of New York City by the high-society architect Richard Morris Hunt. The “cottage” was their summer residence and one of the finest Stick style residences built in the seaside town. The irregular layout, half-timbering and complex roof forms show the influence on the emerging Queen Anne style. The mansion was sold out of the Coles Family after Elizabeth’s death and was razed by 1900 for the second mansion on the site (next post).
One of the most intriguing and historical hikes around is at Overlook Mountain in Woodstock, there is just something so mesmerising and enchanting about abandoned places. Overlook Mountain has long been a significant location in New York. In the boom years of New York City after the Civil War, more than 90 quarries in the Town of Woodstock (many around Mount Overlook) produced bluestone for sidewalks in Manhattan. By the end of the 19th century, the mountain and surrounding area became a tourist location for New Yorkers escaping the woes of city living, looking to breathe in the fresh mountain air up the Hudson. The current ruins Overlook Mountain House was actually the third hotel on the site. The first Overlook Mountain House was built in 1871 and accommodated 300 guests, before it was destroyed by fire in 1875. It was rebuilt in 1878 by the Kiersted Brothers of Saugerties. Overlook was used irregularly between 1887 and 1917, when Morris Newgold of Manhattan purchased the hotel. In 1921, it was the site of a secret organizational meeting of what was to become the Communist Labor Party of America. The second incarnation of the Overlook Mountain House was destroyed by fire in 1923. And Morris Newgold sought to rebuild with fireproof construction.
His architect used concrete to rebuild the hotel, which likely would have been covered with stucco. They also broke ground for a chapel, stables, and a standalone lodge for private housing for his family. Newgold’s shaky finances paired with the Great Depression made for slow progress, and portions of the resort were still “under construction” as late as 1939 (and the main hotel never being finished from what I could find). Morris Newgold died in 1940 and the property was either sold by his son or acquired via eminent domain by the New York State Conservation Department and made part of the Catskill Forest Preserve. You can now explore the old ruins of the Overlook Mountain House between views of the Catskill Mountains.
For the last on this series of Lost Boston buildings, I present this little-known landmark which was once neighbors to the Old State House. The Pagoda Building as it was named, was located on the corner of Washington and State Streets and was one of the tallest buildings on the street upon completion. The seven-story building of Quincy granite exhibited round arched windows and an interpretation of a belvedere at the roof which served as a penthouse. The building’s upper six stories were residential, including the spectacular Oriental penthouse at the top, with retail space at the ground floor. The architect was a recent immigrant from Britain named GeorgeSnell, who clearly made a name for himself, later entering a partnership with James R. Gregerson. The Pagoda Building, which was originally an early “skyscraper” in Boston was quickly surpassed in height and floor plate size and was deemed inadequate for such a prominent location. It was demolished by 1917.
Ever so often, I stumble across a historic photo and I end up spending way too much time falling down rabbit-holes uncovering a cool history. This is one of those times.
Frank Howard Packer (1857-1925) was born in Providence, Rhode Island and worked at his father’s jewelry store there, later moving to Chicago. Out west, Frank was first tattooed by a friend, and he was hooked. Frank started using his body as a canvas, and when he ran out of space, his wife Annie was covered with tattoos. The couple were discovered by Barnum & Bailey’s Greatest Show on Earth and were hired to tour the country alongside other acts. Frank was the “Original Tattooed Man” and Annie was the first tattooed woman to tour with Barnum & Bailey. At these shows, Frank and Annie would show off their tattoos and then tattoo spectators for money. Eventually, they had enough money to open a tattoo parlor in a Civil War-era building on Court Street in Boston. The space was originally shared with a barbershop, but it later expanded to the entire floor of the building. Annie died in 1911 and Frank remarried a few years later and seemingly began to wind down his tattooing career. He died in 1925. The old shop building was demolished in the 1960s as part of Boston’s Urban Renewal period.
