Okefenokee Swamp Park entrance sign. Photograph by Gene Aiken from an undated postcard.
Year by year, more disappear: the quirky, colorful business signs of the 20th century that once littered the United States with their kitschy, eye-catching designs, luring visitors to stores, restaurants, lounges, theaters, shopping centers, tourist attractions, and, of course, motels.
The synthesis of folk art tradition and cold-hard commercialism, these signs followed the growth of the American highway system, and were perhaps the most prominent symbols of the cynical and disposable culture of convenience and impulse that wholly consumed the United States in the 20th century.
The signs functioned as both advertisements and wayfinding tools, and could never be classified as high art: even in their prime, they were widely criticized as crass and unsightly markers to rampant consumerism and unfettered sprawl. Yet one era’s trash becomes another era’s treasure, and these signs attracted wider appreciation as their numbers began to dwindle.
Hand-painted, two-dimensional signs on the outer walls of buildings were a ubiquitous feature of the American landscape starting in the late 19th century, but by the 1920s, sign-making reached new heights and three-dimensional form with “sky signs”, now known as scaffold signs.
Sky sign on Biltmore Hotel (1924). Atlanta.
Often perched atop towering hotels or other tall buildings in city centers, these machine-produced signs were attached to steel scaffolding and lit by electricity, still a novelty in many places.
As Americans began driving the first automobiles across a patchwork network of highways, sky signs served as bright, beckoning beacons that could be easily spotted from miles around.
Neon lights also debuted in the 1920s, and their distinctive glowing colors quickly became a standard feature of commercial signage, seemingly overnight.
Used by everyone from mom-and-pop shops to department stores, by the 1940s, neon signs were synonymous with nightlife entertainment and what is now referred to as Streamline Moderne architecture.
Clubs, diners, and movie theaters of the era often prominently incorporated neon elements into their sleek, curvaceous designs inspired by an increasingly mobile world of planes, trains, and automobiles.
Del-Mar Motel (1955). Valdosta, Georgia. Designed by Joe Bright.
The creative zenith of signmaking emerged with the advent of the Interstate Highway System in the mid-20th century.
Far-out, futuristic signs inspired by the Space Age and the Atomic Era dominated in the 1950s and 60s, today closely associated with Googie architecture, which originated in southern California and spread unevenly throughout the country.
Popular elements of Googie-derived signs included:
starbursts
shooting stars
exploding atoms
orbiting satellites
giant boomerangs
oversized arrows
Many signs of the era were more down-to-earth in their inspiration: roadside business signs often incorporated symbols that were evocative of their specific locale or region — a chomping alligator on the entrance sign for Okefenokee Swamp Park in Georgia, for instance (pictured above).
Round Up Motel. West Yellowstone, Montana.
Other signs were more exotic in flavor, capitalizing on the Tiki culture that emerged in the White middle class following World War II, using symbols and typefaces that were stereotypically Polynesian, Hawaiian, or Pan-Asian.
Typically designed by local sign makers, vernacular roadside signs were often used as distinctive focal points for structures that were otherwise unremarkable and interchangeable — see one hole-in-the-wall motel, for instance, and you’ve seen them all. It was the sign that was memorable, not the building.
Vernacular signs were already falling out of fashion when Robert Venturi and Denise Scott Brown, a husband-and-wife architectural team from Philadelphia, galvanized the architectural world with the 1972 publication of Learning from Las Vegas, in which they praised vernacular road signs for their “architecture of communication over space”1and presented them as a legitimate art form worthy of analysis.
Venturi and Scott Brown accused architects of designing to suit “their own particular upper-middle-class values, which they assign to everyone” and admonished them to “gain insight from the commonplace”.2
Yet even as architects began drawing inspiration from them, by the 1970s, vernacular roadside signs were steadily supplanted by standardized signs that became more subdued, less conspicuous, and more homogenous.
Weiss Liquors (circa 1966). Nashville, Tennessee.
Today, roadside signs from the mid-20th century are nearly extinct, often regulated out of existence by restrictive sign ordinances or demolished when their associated businesses close or succumb to redevelopment. Those that remain are either in a state of decay or have been well-maintained and, in some cases, skillfully restored.
If you’re hunting for relic roadside signs in the United States, there are a few good places to start:
Neglected or run-down urban neighborhoods or rural towns.
Nostalgic destinations such as long-running local restaurants, theaters, and stores, or tourist areas near beaches, mountains, or national parks.
Shopping centers built in the 1950s, 60s, or 70s that have retained elements of their original design.
These relic signs are quaint reminders of a time when the appeal of travel lay in the freedom of its uncertainty and little surprises, when Americans weren’t so embedded in the illusion of control, merely navigating from one planned destination to the next on routes prescribed by machine, coddling our consumed minds with the bland promise of comfort, safety, and familiarity.
Or, perhaps, that time never existed at all.
The map below charts the location of every vintage sign I’ve photographed so far, with accompanying images. Many of the signs have since been removed.
References
Venturi, Robert; Scott Brown, Denise; Izenour, Steven. Learning from Las Vegas, Revised Edition: The Forgotten Symbolism of Architectural Form. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press (1977). ↩︎
E.G. Lind. The Priest’s House at Catholic Shrine of the Immaculate Conception (1884). Atlanta.12345Front porch and entrance of The Priest’s House, AtlantaFirst-floor windows on the facade of The Priest’s House, AtlantaSecond-floor window on the facade of The Priest’s House, AtlantaTerracotta stringcourse on the facade of The Priest’s House, AtlantaAttic window on the facade of The Priest’s House, AtlantaEaves and consoles on the facade of The Priest’s House, AtlantaWest elevation of The Priest’s House, Atlanta
References
Belfoure, Charles. Edmund G. Lind: Anglo-American Architect of Baltimore and the South. Baltimore, Maryland: The Baltimore Architectural Foundation (2009). ↩︎
“Notice to Builders & Contractors”. The Atlanta Constitution, June 25, 1884, p. 5. ↩︎
“Building Bits.” The Atlanta Constitution, May 30, 1884, p. 7. ↩︎
“The Priest’s House”. The Atlanta Constitution, November 9, 1884, p. 9. ↩︎
“A Brilliant Occasion.” The Atlanta Constitution, November 12, 1884, p. 7. ↩︎
Town Motel (sign debuted after 1957). 414 3rd Avenue West, Birmingham, Alabama.
It’s hard to nail down a precise date for this fantastic Googie-style sign, but it was likely erected sometime after 1957.
The Town Motel opened in 19511 and expanded in 1957,2 but newspaper images from both dates show two completely different signs—neither of them was this one.
An undated postcard, pictured below, shows the sign in its original —and much more pristine—condition, noting that the motel was owned and managed by Mr. and Mrs. Charles D. Mitchell and Son, who operated the establishment from 1951 to at least 1960.3
References
“Phone Seale Lumber For Loan Information.” Birmingham Post-Herald (Birmingham, Alabama), May 26, 1951, p. 8. ↩︎
“Town Motel Again Re-orders From Rhodes-Carroll”. The Birmingham News (Birmingham, Alabama), February 23, 1957, p. 14. ↩︎
Polk’s Birmingham (Jefferson County, Alabama) City Directory 1960. Richmond, Virginia: R.L. Polk & Co., Publishers (1960). ↩︎
Kevin Roche of Kevin Roche John Dinkeloo and Associates.NationsBank Plaza, later Bank of America Plaza (1992). Atlanta.12Looking up at the Bank of America Plaza from the Fox Theatre, AtlantaTop of the Bank of America Plaza, AtlantaEntrance of the Bank of America Plaza. Take that, you power-tripping security guards.Pillars on the Bank of America Plaza, AtlantaLooking up at the Bank of America Plaza from Winship Emory MidtownPillars on the Bank of America Plaza, AtlantaLooking at Bank of America from the southLooking at the Bank of America Plaza from the east
References
Walker, Tom. “Modernist Architect Kevin Roche Will Design New C&S Headquarters Tower”. The Atlanta Journal, July 25, 1989, p. B-1. ↩︎
Fox, Catherine. “Reaching for the Sky”. The Atlanta Journal The Atlanta Constitution, April 12, 1992, p. N1. ↩︎
Richard Meier.High Museum of Art (1983). Atlanta.1In foreground: Roy Lichtenstein. House III (1997).2Looking at the High Museum of Art from the eastLooking at the High Museum of Art from the southeast. In foreground: Auguste Rodin. The Shade (1880).3Windows and enamel steel panels on the High Museum of Art, AtlantaLooking at the High Museum of Art from the southeastEntrance portal to the High Museum of Art, AtlantaLooking up in the atrium of the High Museum of Art, AtlantaLooking up in the atrium of the High Museum of Art, AtlantaLooking up in the atrium of the High Museum of Art, AtlantaLooking out a window in the High Museum of Art, AtlantaGallery in the High Museum of Art, AtlantaGallery in the High Museum of Art, AtlantaCorridor in the High Museum of Art, AtlantaAtrium in the High Museum of Art, Atlanta
References
“A New High”. The Atlanta Journal and Constitution, October 9, 1983, Section M. ↩︎
Bruce & Morgan. Academic Building (1888). Georgia Institute of Technology, Atlanta.123Looking at the Academic Building of Georgia Tech from the southeastTower on the Academic Building of Georgia Tech, AtlantaBay window on the tower of the Academic Building at Georgia Tech, AtlantaGable dormer on the facade of the Academic Building at Georgia Tech, AtlantaFourth-floor windows on the facade of the Academic Building at Georgia Tech, AtlantaEast elevation of the Academic Building at Georgia Tech, AtlantaSecond- and third-floor windows on the facade of the Academic Building at Georgia Tech, AtlantaTerracotta window spandrel on the Academic Building of Georgia Tech, AtlantaFourth-floor windows and gable dormer on the facade of the Academic Building at Georgia Tech, AtlantaCornices, spandrel, and terracotta stringcourses on the facade of the Academic Building at Georgia Tech, AtlantaFront porch on the Academic Building at Georgia Tech, AtlantaTerracotta stringcourse on the front porch of the Academic Building at Georgia Tech, AtlantaArches and ornamentation on the front porch of the Academic Building at Georgia Tech, AtlantaCushion capital and marble column on the front porch of the Academic Building at Georgia Tech, AtlantaBrickwork and ornamentation on the front porch of the Academic Building at Georgia Tech, AtlantaKeystone on the front porch of the Academic Building at Georgia Tech, AtlantaWest elevation of the Academic Building at Georgia Tech, AtlantaGables on the west elevation of the Academic Building at Georgia Tech, AtlantaGable dormer and third-floor window on the west elevation of the Academic Building at Georgia Tech, AtlantaLooking at the west elevation of the Academic Building at Georgia Tech, AtlantaWindow on the Academic Building at Georgia Tech, AtlantaSecond- and third-floor balconies on the west elevation of the Academic Building at Georgia Tech, AtlantaRoman arch, corbels, and pediment on the west entrance of the Academic Building at Georgia Tech, AtlantaFormer chapel on the north elevation of the Academic Building at Georgia Tech, AtlantaArch windows on the former chapel of the Academic Building at Georgia Tech, AtlantaLooking at the Administration Building of Georgia Tech from the northwest
References
“Georgia’s Pride”. The Atlanta Constitution, March 16, 1887, p. 5. ↩︎
“Technological School.” The Atlanta Journal, March 16, 1887, p. 1. ↩︎
“The First Session”. The Atlanta Constitution, October 4, 1888, p. 8. ↩︎
Richard Morris Hunt. Jackson Square Library (1887). Greenwich Village, New York.12Dutch gable and third-floor windows on the facade of Jackson Square Library, New YorkSecond-floor windows on the facade of Jackson Square Library, New YorkTrefoil arch on the first floor of Jackson Square Library, New York
References
“Given By a Millionaire”. The World (New York), July 5, 1888, p. 1. ↩︎
Morris Hall and Peter Norris. Sammy E. Coan Middle School (1967), Kirkwood, Atlanta.12Looking toward the east elevation of Coan Middle School, AtlantaGymnasium of Coan Middle School, AtlantaAmpitheater at Coan Middle School, Atlanta
References
“Coan School Boasts No Grades”. The Atlanta Journal and Constitution, September 4, 1967, p. 14-A. ↩︎
“Award-Winning Sammye E. Coan School Design”. The Atlanta Journal, October 25, 1968, p. 5-R. ↩︎
This is the eighteenth andfinal installment in a series of articles written for The Atlanta Journal in 1890 and 1891 by W.W. Goodrich, an architect who practiced in Atlanta between 1889 and 1895.
Hardly anything about the style was actually “colonial”, and in typical rambling fashion, Goodrich attempts to explain its finer points across multiple paragraphs—without success.
This article takes a bizarre turn when Goodrich describes matching a home’s furniture to the hair color and complexion of the woman who lives there, with corresponding fashion tips—I wish I were joking.
“A brunette is never so exquisite as in cream color,” Goodrich writes, adding: “Women who have rather florid complexions look well in various shades of plum and heliotrope.”
As for blondes? “Blondes look fairer and younger in dead black.”
Notice, of course, that only light-skinned complexions are discussed.
The article ends with a lecture for young women on buying furniture. “Each couch and footstool is an achievement”, Goodrich prattles. “Each rug and curtain represents a triumph.”
You can tell he was exhausting to be around.
A few words in the article text have been lost due to faded ink on the original newspaper page. The missing portions are indicated by the [obliterated] tag.
Pretty Homes
Something About The Colonial Architecture.
Many Specimens of the Style Found in the South.
Adapting My Lady’s Boudoir to Her Own Tints and Tones.
How to Buy Furnishings for a Home so as to Produce the Most Artistic effect.
Written for The Journal.
Through knickerbocker treatment we inherit architectural forms bequeathed to us from the Italian renaissance. To this we have given the name “Colonial”–developed, as it was, during our colonial existence and thereafter.
The north and south are possessed of numerous examples of this style in the old homes on the farms and manors of New England, and on the plantations of the middle and southern states.
This development is a growth with constant retrospection toward Greek art and an occasional treatment of forms, promoted or necessitated by existing conditions. The acanthus and the scallop shell are frequently met with, and a profusion of [obliterated], bead and fret mouldings, bands and [obliterated] are the proper ornamentation.
This application of the ornament varies [obliterated]. Sometimes we see it in profuse [obliterated] and sometimes used sparingly with plain surfaces as better becomes Puritan taste. The southern colonial of Maryland, Virginia, South Carolina and Georgia verges almost on the rococo, in some cases, especially in the detail of the foliage. The towns of the south are full of exquisite examples of fine colonial ornament, exterior and interior.
In most cases the metal work of old colonial houses is very simple, the surfaces being of plain polished brass and the edges [obliterated] ornamented with some of the characteristic fretwork of the exterior ornamentation. Where such ornament is found it is usually adapted from earlier renaissance examples, simplified to suit the occasion of the owner’s purse.
A Colonial Revival.
The colonial school has been recently revived in many parts of the country, more especially for suburban residences near large cities and for handsome country houses surrounded by broad landscapes. When consistently executed, it is most suitable for such buildings and the quaint outlines and soft colorings of some of the recent examples in this school are very attractive, making home dearer and more to be desired than any form of home construction.
The colonial will always be memorable for the introduction of that unique style of furniture and coloring that has never ceased to be admired, having that about it which appeals to the most refined feelings of domesticity, and is strictly adapted to the occupants of the home in color, form and generally symphony; thus, for a blonde I would have a rose parlor, the woodwork of prima vara [sic], the glass of polished plate, the mantel of root ash, the facings of onyx. The walls should be hung with rose-colored silk in various rose designs, procaded [sic] with thistles; the furniture in rosewood covered with rose-colored velvets, embossed with roses; the portieres of rose-colored silks and satins, with heavy fringes in blue and gold.
In the dining-room the hangings are of peacock blue, with a border of beetle’s wings, sewed on with jewels and pearls. The chairs of mahogany, covered with light, embossed terra cotta velvet.
The ballroom is Moorish, designed from a room in the Alhambra, of tinges of blue and gold, in symmetrical designs of Greek Byzantium, with the draperies, hanging and divans of exquisitely oriental treatment.
In the library the prevailing hue should be a soft brown with delicate blue and [obliterated] violets peeping out from grasses in various portions. And for the boudoir I would have a tulip room, old gold covering the walls and a dado of yellow and pale pink tulips reaching to the dulled gilt frieze.
Matching the Fair Occupant.
There can be no finer example of modern American furnishing than this idea, that the colors chose were those tints of which a duplicate were found in the hair, the eyes and the complexion of the lady herself.
A woman with blue-gray eyes and a thin, neutral-tinted complexion, is never more becomingly dressed than in the blue shades in which gray is mixed, for in this complexion there is a certain delicate blueness.
A brunette is never so exquisite as in cream color, for she has reproduced the tinting of her skin in her dress. Put the same dress on a colorless blonde and she will be far from charming, while in gray she would be quite the reverse. The reason is plain, in the blonde’s sallowness there are tints of gray, and in the dark woman’s pallor there are always yellowish tones, the same as predominate in the cream-colored dress.
Women who have rather florid complexions look well in various shades of plum and heliotrope, also in certain shades of dove gray, for to a trained eye this color has a tinge of pink which harmonizes with the flesh of the face. Blondes look fairer and younger in dead black like that of wool goods or velvet, while brunettes require the sheen of satin or gloss of silk in order to wear black to advantage.
The Charm of Colonial Houses.
One of the greatest charms of colonial houses is found in the beams and panels which appear without disguise in the ceilings, and which are manifestly capable of supporting the floor above. They give a sense of fitness and security which one does not experience in the contemplation of the unbroken, and apparently unsupported, expanse of plaster, which forms the ceiling of the modern. Add to this bareness the two or three feet of unnecessary height, which we usually find in houses of the last decade, with no shape in the finish of the cornice to give an impression of support, or perhaps a meaningless cornice repeating the confused floral forms of the absurdity which forms the centre piece, and it is evident that innovation and reform in the matter have not come to soon.
If a room be badly proportioned or too high, a good effect may be obtained by dividing the ceiling space by moulding of heavy wood–enough to give a feeling of stability.
[obliterated] be frescoed or painted, and if the work be carefully considered, and not too intricate in pattern, the appearance of the room will be greatly improved.
Some Specimens in Atlanta.
The colonial school of architecture and ornament has proved to be so well adapted to modern uses and surrounding that many handsome residences of the kind are to be found in various parts of this city, and are coming in more general use in this country. While its prominent features are necessarily adaptations from earlier forms transplanted from across the sea, yet it has more of an historical claim to be considered an American style than almost any other, and as such is worthy of special study.
From any point of view the colonial style is decidedly free from old-fashioned ideas, whilst it is distinguished not only for elegance, but comfort and convenience, thus being well adapted to modern adoption. The formation influences that led up to this remarkable development of artistic power, date from the Italian Renaissance, illustrating how subtle germs of thought, fed from various sources, and fructifying from generation to generation, are presently developed under favoring circumstances in original and attractive forms. The colonial style was not an electric, it was a positive creation, characterized by a charming individuality.
Artistic Mantels.
Colonial mantels, as constructive features of apartments, claim our first notice. If of hard wood the ornaments were curved or turned; if of plain wood, they were coated with a plastic composition, toned to yellow color, that presently assumed an adamantine hardness, and on which were formed in relief, figure groups, and floral garlands, and pendants, similar designs being carried out on the jambs and lintels of hardwood mantels.
Pillars supporting the shelves would at times by mounted by brass capitals; but many of the pillared supports are fine examples of turnery, which was also applied to geometric ornaments on lintels. Much of the pleasing effect of the mantels is due the fine proportions maintained, and the delicacy of relief work in carvings and mouldings, made more effective by ample and well considered spacing. The mantel would be surrounded by a moderately high oblong mirror, metal lined, and running its whole length and this topped by shelves resting on brackets.
In the colonial order of architecture, the home seeker can do better in buying pieces singly, rather than in sets, and to pick up said articles at various times, as the home progresses in being occupied, and as wants increase.
How to Buy Furniture.
It seems a pity that the young woman who is about to establish a home, and has a sum of money to spend for its garnishing, cannot be persuaded from laying it all out at once. She robs herself of so much future enjoyment. The spick and span sets of furniture which are carelessly ordered from an upholsterer, and carried home and stood around her parlors by his men, will never afford her half the satisfaction she can get in a room for which to-day she buys a chair, and the next week, seeing there must be a table to accompany the chair, she starts on a fresh shopping excursion, and finds a table which is exactly what she was looking for; and in another month, discovering the need of a bookcase or a screen she has again the delight of the hunt, and the gratification of obtaining the prettiest screen and bookcase in the city.
Such a room is a growth, a gathering together of household treasures, little by little. Each article, bought only when the need arises, or when something is happily found to just meet the need, will have a family history which makes it an entertaining as well as a valuable possession. Each couch and footstool is an achievement; each rug and curtain represents a triumph. Such a home, built up gradually, with careful planning in each part, with thought and loving consideration in all its details, acquires a far deeper meaning than could be purchased by the longest purse from the most fashionable cabinet-maker.
