Category: E.G. Lind

The following article was originally published in the May 1893 edition of The Southern Architect , and was written by Edmund George Lind (1829-1909), professionally known as E.G. Lind, a British-born architect who spent most of his life and career in Baltimore, but practiced in Atlanta from 1883 to 1893.

Here, Lind offered his ideas for the prevention of building fires, a chief concern for both architects and the general public in the late 19th century, when dangerous wood-burning fireplaces were the primary method of heating, and deadly fires were tragically common.

Architects of the era were always eager to employ “fireproof” design solutions, and Lind specifically recommended the use of terra cotta flue liners in chimneys. Flue liners are now considered essential for fire prevention, yet as Lind noted, they were not in common use at the time, and would not be widely adopted until mandated by national building codes in the 20th century.

In early 1890s Atlanta, when construction was almost entirely unregulated, the city’s leading architects frequently called for greater government oversight of the building process, due in large part to fire safety concerns. In 1890, Thomas H. Morgan, a partner of the architectural firm Bruce & Morgan complained to a reporter of The Atlanta Constitution:

“Why take the matter of defective flues. Chief Joyner [W.R. “Cap” Joyner, Atlanta’s first fire chief] reports that last year forty-two of the fires were caused by defective flues, and the loss was $18,000. This sort of thing would be stopped if we had the right kind of building law. There has hardly been a board of building inspectors in the last five years that has not recommended to the council some sort of building law, but none was ever adopted and the thing goes on in this careless fashion. Time and again in my work of supervision I have had to make them take joists out of chimneys.”¹

In the same news article, another Atlanta architect, G.L. Norrman, offered his own design solution for the construction of safer chimneys:

“There should always be eight inches of brick around flues where the brick touches the woodwork. It takes more brick, but it is the only safe way to build a chimney, and I always put it in the specifications. Architects, as a rule, do not build chimneys large enough. Usually they only put four inches of brick between a flue and woodwork. That is not sufficient.”¹

In this article, Lind recommended that the local government hire a ramoneur to examine and clean every chimney in the city on an annual basis. Appealing to Atlanta’s pathological need to compare itself to other municipalities, Lind noted: “The plan is in operation in other cities, and Atlanta cannot well afford to be ‘out of the swim.’”

The city finally hired its first real building inspector in 1895 and began issuing construction permits that same year; it did not, however, hire a chimney inspector.

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“Protection Against Fire“

“It is worthy of remark that more fires occur at the commencement and close of the cold winter months than at any other period of the year. This may be accounted for from the fact that the accumulated soot of the preceding winter, having been driven by wind and rain into corners and crevices of the chimney flue conveniently left by the bricklayer, as if “on mischief bent,” readily takes fire upon the first warming up, ending ofttimes in widespread conflagration.

A clean chimney flue would obviate all this, but how to clean it is the question.

It is perhaps not commonly known that zinc chips or scraps of zinc plate burned in a stove will readily cleanse the stove-pipe of all accumulated soot. The same cleansing process might be applied to ordinary fireplaces, but in the absence of all such precautionary measures, and as a valuable auxiliary, I would suggest the creation of a new officer to our city staff – that of chimney sweeper, or “Ramoneur,” which sounds better whose duty it shall be to examine every house and public building in the city during the summer months, and have each chimney flue properly swept and cleansed at a charge to the owner or tenant of say fifteen or twenty-five cents for each flue, the soot to be removed by the operator and used as a fertilizer on the neighboring farm lands, thus preventing fire consumption on the one hand and raising food for man’s consumption on the other.

This plan is in operation in other cities, and Atlanta cannot well afford to be “out of the swim.”

The sweeping can be readily effected by a round brush of whalebone or split rattan fitted to a bamboo rod three or four feet in length furnished with a screw joint, to which other rods may be attached, thus gradually forcing the brush up the whole length of the flue, first enclosing the fireplace opening after adding the second length of rod by means of close fitting canvas, in the center of which is a small hole for passing in the different sections of rod and operating the brush.

When the top of the chimney is reached, which may be readily ascertained by the Ramoneur or his assistant watching outside, by working the brush well around the flue all loose soot will be detached and the brush may be gradually lowered, disjointed and packed away for future use. The soot brought down to be put into close canvas sack and removed from the premises with little or no inconvenience to the tenant.

In some cities a wire brush is used, weighted with lead or iron, and let down from the top of the flue, instead of starting at the bottom as here recommended, but the great objection to this method is the roughness of the apparatus, which frequently detaches mortar from the sides of the flues, and opens the way for future mischief by exposing defective joints. In this connection we would remark that the best shape for all flues is a circle, and the best material for building them is vitrified clay or terra-cotta. These pipes may be made without collars or socks, should be glazed on the inside, and as they are put in place and enclosed with the brickwork they can be protected from falling mortar by a wooden mandrel or covered core, which may be removed as each fresh joint of pipe is fitted and then replaced.

The use of terra-cotta pipe for smoke flues is no new thing. The writer, in common with many other architects, has availed himself of them for years, and it would be well if their adoption was as common as the reverse is now the case. Little or no soot can cling to a glazed surface, and the joints are so few – less than one-eighth the number in a brick flue – that risk of fire from defective work, as well as the certainty of avoiding a smoky chimney would be almost obliterated.”

E.G.L.

References

1. “Eight Millions More”, The Atlanta Constitution, April 13, 1890, p. 7.

The following text is the transcript of a presentation given at the 1884 convention of the American Institute of Architects by Edmund George Lind (1829-1909), professionally known as E.G. Lind, a British-born architect who spent most of his life and career in Baltimore, but practiced in Atlanta from 1883 to 1893.

Although his work in Atlanta and the Southeast in the 1880s and 1890s was largely unremarkable, Lind was by all accounts a well-respected architect who sought to elevate the status of the entire profession, and before 1885 he was the only architect in Atlanta who was a member of the American Institute of Architects (AIA).

Lind read the following paper on October 21, 1884, at the annual convention of the AIA, held in Nashville, Tennessee. The thesis has little to do with architecture, tenuously connecting the subjects of color and music in a meandering and mystical fashion that was popular in the late 19th century [G.L. Norrman‘s Architecture as Illustrative of Religious Belief is another prime example], and Lind makes numerous references to songs and music that are likely unfamiliar to modern readers.

Lind further explored the topic of color in his 1892 article “Coloring of Rooms”, and in 1893, he wrote a paper entitled “A Few Words About Acoustics”, in which he stated that he designed music halls and concert rooms in dimensions based on the number 7. It’s in this paper, however, that Lind first explains his interest in the number 7, which he later referred to as “the symbol of perfection and completeness”.

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“The Harmony Between Color and Music”

By E.G. Lind, F.A.I.A., Baltimore.

“The harmony existing between color and music is so remarkable that it cannot fail to interest all who will give the subject a little attention, and the more it is investigated the more we shall be struck with its various correlations.

The first quality noticeable, as harmonizing these two sciences, is the numeral one of 7. There being that number of natural colors, and the same of natural sounds. And in this connection it may be proper to direct attention for one moment to the pregnant use of this number throughout the history of the world. In the earliest writings with which we are familiar, the Holy Scriptures, it occupies a very conspicuous position, beginning with a hallowing of a seventh day as a Sabbath of rest upon earth, and ending in the pouring out of the seven vials of wrath upon the people. Pharaoh, you know, dreamed of and experienced a seven years of plenty and seven of famine, Naaman was directed to wash seven times in the river Jordan that he might be cleansed of his leprosy. Joshua besieged Jericho with seven Priests sounding seven trumpets, as during seven days they marched seven times round the walls of the doomed city. The great feast of the Jews was held seven days, commencing on the seventh day of the seven month of the seventh year. And many other instances might be cited where this particular number is alluded to. Our very existence seems to be in some mysterious way connected with it, for on the seventh day, the pulse of humanity beats slower and feebler than on the other six days. Diseases change for better or worse on the seventh day, and we are told that every seventh year our whole bodily system is renewed. Several works have been written bearing upon this special subject, and it is quite possible that 7 may be a complete and perfect number in some way governing and pervading all natural science, for it is not an unreasonable presumption that the Creator worked upon some definite plan which may form the key to the whole design.

To proceed with our analogy [diagram exhibited of solar spectrum and colored side of music].

In the solar spectrum we have seven colors. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet, which we call the natural colors. In music we have seven sounds, do, re, me, fa, sol, la, and si [ti], which we term natural sounds. To form a complete chromatic scale of sound, we need five other notes, viz: do sharp, re sharp, fa sharp, sol sharp and la sharp, so that the seven natural sounds are increased to twelve. A correlation will be found in the color scale, as red merges into orange, orange into yellow, green into blue, blue into indigo and indigo into violet, so that we have complete and correspondingly harmonious chromatic scales both of music and color.

The natural scale of do in music has been so named because the human voice is almost universally tuned in that key, and the first note of that scale, do, gives out two hundred and forty vibrations to convey the impression of that particular sound to the ear.

In the next note, re, these vibrations are increased to two hundred and seventy, and so as we ascend the scale till the seventh note, si, is reached, when four hundred and fifty distinct vibrations are recorded. In short, the higher and more distant the note, the greater number of vibrations necessary to produce it.

In color we find an analogy in the fact that the sensation of red is imparted to the eye by a certain number of vibrations of light, the second color, orange, by an increasing number of vibrations, and so on ascending the scale. These vibrations bearing the same harmonious correlation with reference to sound, although not the same in actual numbers, and as in sound the deeper tones are the near ones, so in color the warmer tints composed of red are made use of by artists to depict nearness and the colder greys to obtain distant effects, thus blindly observing a natural law which we have endeavored to make clear in the diagrams presented, a law, too, entirely in harmony with the law of sound.

We have previously stated that there are seven natural colors in the solar spectrum, but in reality there are only three; red, yellow and blue, which are known as the primary colors, the other four being merely combinations of the former. In our colored scale of music it will be seen that the chord do, mi, sol is formed by these three primary colors, and as the three sounds, or chord notes, form a key to the musical composition, so the three colors are the base and foundation for the whole system of color. Red and yellow producing orange; yellow and blue, green; and blue and red, indigo and violet. As well-known the three primaries commingled make black, and if the whole solar spectrum be rotated rapidly white light is produced.

The two sciences being so much in accord, as we have shown, it might be presumed that what would please the ear would please the eye. If, therefore, a musical instrument should be so constructed that when played upon colored sounds would be produced, then we might expect lively music to produce bright colors; said tunes subdued and secondary colors, and doleful sounds, colors of a dull and sombre hue. Nay, even the national airs of a particular country might partake of the peculiar characteristics of its people. [These different characteristics illustrated by colored diagrams of various tunes, “Yankee Doodle”, “John Anderson, My Jo”, “Bethany”, “Windham”, etc., which fully sustained the foregoing theory, and especially so in the colored tune of “Auld Lang Syne”, which bore a remarkable resemblance to a Scotch plaid.]

In preparing the various colored diagrams illustrating this paper, it was found that a piece of music colored in accordance with the rules of color could be successfully harmonized by a person wholly unacquainted with music, so long as he understood the said rules of color, for he would only have to apply notes with primary colors in opposition to primary colors and secondary colors to secondary, and he would produced as perfectly harmonized a piece of music as if he had been fully acquainted with thorough bass.

As a country advances in civilization so does it advance artistic taste, it is no longer satisfied with the crude colors and tones of a ruder age, it seeks a higher plane, more complex, refined and intellectual. The primary colors and sounds are supplemented by others more complicated and aesthetic; the possibilities of each science is pushed to the extreme, every combination of tone and semi-tone in music and every shade and tint in color is made subservient to higher demands, and pleasures are imparted which could not possibly have been realized in the earlier stages of civilization.

[Diagram in illustration “Sullivan‘s Lost Chord“.]

In short, so allied are the sciences of color and music that it is possible to give a color to every sound and a sound to every color. All the intonations of the human voice can be easily depicted in color as on a violin, there is no limit to either, and symphonies in red and green, and idyls in blue and yellow are nearer of attainment than artists ever dreamed of or hoped for. [Diagram exhibited of a “Child’s Wail” and “Lawyer’s Speech”.]

Curious to trace the gradual development of color and music from the earliest to the present times. We examined a great number of examples of color, with the following results: Adhering to the harmonic number, 7, we selected that number of examples from many, and found that in the savage tribes the only colors known and used were red, yellow, white and black. The Egyptians added blue and green to this list, and so on upward through the Greek, Pompeian, Arabian, Middle Age and Renaissance periods there was a gradual accession of color, till in our own day we absorb all the colors of the spectrum and many more.

Of the progress of musical sounds we have fewer opportunities for acquiring information. We know that among savage tribes few colors and sounds prevail, and these too of the most primitive characters. It is fair to assume color and music have kept on with equal step, hand in hand, neither in advance of the other so will they continue through the ages to the end, enobling and refining each other.

One word for our own art. As “frozen music,” architecture is fairly entitled to a place beside her two lovely sisters; we have then the great civilizers of the world, architecture, music and painting, these three.

In conclusion, it may be asked in relation this “Cui bono?” What good will it do? We cannot tell; we think it possible that these harmonies may be so utilized as to be productive of much good, if by means of seeing these colored notes the deaf mute can be made to understand something of the nature of sound, or if by hearing them a blind person can be given to understand something of the nature of color, a great good will have been accomplished; a new field will have been opened and new pleasures added to the few enjoyed, by two classes of suffering humanity whose afflictions naturally excite the kindly sympathy of all.”

The following text is the transcript of a presentation given at the 1893 convention of the American Institute of Architects by Edmund George Lind (1829-1909), professionally known as E.G. Lind, a British-born architect who spent most of his life and career in Baltimore but practiced in Atlanta from 1883 to 1893.

Lind had recently returned to Baltimore from Atlanta, and his architectural career was effectively finished. With more free time at his disposal, he had been recently pondering architectural acoustics, a subject that has confounded architects since at least the days of Vitruvius.

Architects of the 19th century commonly believed that interior spaces such as concert halls or church sanctuaries should be designed according to specific dimensions to produce the best sound acoustics.

Lind demonstrated the limitations of that theory by comparing the dimensions of auditoriums in 4 different buildings, including Baltimore’s Masonic Temple, which he designed. The building now operates as an event space.

While 3 of the auditoriums he referenced had dimensions based on the number 13, only one was considered an acoustic success. In a frank assessment of his work, Lind described the acoustic quality of his own Masonic temple design as “very defective”.

Lind proposed that the dimensions of auditoriums should be in multiples of the number 7, offering as proof the dimensions of Baltimore’s First Presbyterian Church — which he partly designed — and 2 unnamed churches of his design in Georgia: the first is Central Presbyterian Church (pictured above) in Atlanta, and the second was likely the Presbyterian church in what is now Atlanta’s West End (1888, demolished). Lind claimed their acoustics were a “perfect success”.

Within a few years of Lind’s presentation, Wallace Sabine‘s extensive study into the acoustic quality of buildings launched what became the field of architectural acoustics. Designers now know that the dimensions of a space have much less impact on acoustics than the strategic use of sound-absorbing building materials.

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“A Few Words About Acoustics.”

By E.G. Lind, F.A.I.A., Baltimore.

‘For lack of more profitable employment I have been thinking. Usually I like to do that sort of thing in appreciative or sympathetic company, but, deprived of that luxury in Baltimore, I write to enlist the interests of my brethren of the Institute in the subject of my thoughts, “acoustics”.

I don’t know that it ever happened to any architect to deliberately plan a hall or concert room with a certainty of its being an acoustic success, but that buildings have been planned and are acoustically successes is very certain; whether by accident or design I know not, and that is what I want to find out. Can any rule be laid down whereby perfection in sound may be certainly acheived, and if so, what is that rule?

For some good reason, I presume, or other, various numbers have been recommended as multiples to be used in the dimensions of auditoriums. Numbers 2, 3, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10 and 18 have all had their supporters, upon what particular grounds we are left in ignorance.

I will just notice two or three examples and leave the matter in the hands of the brethren, praying for further light.

The Boston Music Hall has always been considered a specimen of acoustic perfection. Its dimensions are a multiple of that usually considered unlucky number 13, in this case a particularly fortunate one.

The dimensions of the hall are:

• 13×10=130 feet long.
• 13x 6= 91 feet wide.
• 13x 5= 65 feet high.

It has galleries on the side and ends, which considerably reduce the floor space.

The hall of the Baltimore Masonic Temple, built by myself, was also a multiple of 13, its dimensions being:

• 13×8=104 feet long.
• 13×7= 91 feet wide.
• 13×3= 39 feet high.

This hall proved to be very defective, inasmuch as it possessed resonant qualities which destroyed its usefulness as a lecture room while it was enhanced as a concert hall.

There was a gallery at the end of this hall but no side galleries, as at Boston, which might have made all the difference.

The dimensions of old Steinway Hall, New York, were a little in excess of this multiple of 13, being:

• 13×9+ 3=120 feet long.
• 13×5+10= 75 feet wide.
• 13×3+ 3= 42 feet high.

It, too, was an acoustic failure.

The Baltimore Concordia Hall was a multiple of 10, and was a failure.

Now let us take another multiple.

A few years ago, for amusement and recreation, I undertook to investigate the properties of the number 7—a number of such frequent occurence in the Holy Scriptures that we may be naturally led to the conclusion that 7 is the symbol of perfection and completeness.

Convinced of its importance, I determined to use this multiple in arranging the auditorium of a Presbyterian church I was about building in Georgia, and made the dimensions thus:

• 7×10=70 feet long.
• 7x 9=63 feet wide.
• 7 x5=35 feet high.

It proved a perfect success, and it has the testimony of hundreds of divines that it is the best auditorium for acoustics they ever preached in.

Later on I had another church to build for another Presbyterian congregation in Georgia, but smaller in size. I adopted the same multiple, 7, for my auditorium, and with the same success.

In further support of the proposition that 7 is a multiple to be respected, I will mention that the auditorium of the First Presbyterian Church of Baltimore has always enjoyed a first-class reputation for its acoustic qualities, and it also is a multiple of 7, being:

• 7×10=70 feet long.
• 7x 9=63 feet wide.
• 7x 9=63 feet high.

So little in excess of the multiple as to be unappreciable.

It may be doubted whether a strict adherence to any particular multiple will insure success.

The acoustic qualities of a room may be influenced, in great measure, by the materials of which it is constructed, the arrangement of its various parts, the heating and ventilation — all have the part to play — but due attention being given to these and all other things being equal, I incline to the multiple 7 all the time until good reason is shown for adopting some other number.

There is no problem so difficult of solution as this one of acoustics, and yet with a little or more probably a good deal of thought and study we may be able to avoid some of the many pitfalls which await the unwary.

As the body cannot live without nourishment, so the mind needs food for thought. If a brother here has any to spare let him not withhold it.

For my part “I want to know.”

And that is all I have to say about acoustics.’