It’s hard to pin down an exact date for this sign in downtown Birmingham, Alabama, but the earliest newspaper ad I can find for the Diana store is from Christmas 1979.1
Previously, the space had been occupied since 1934 by Peggie Hale,2 a nationwide retailer of women’s clothing. Diana Stores purchased Peggie Hale, Inc. in 1945,3 operating stores under both brands.
By 1955, the company opened a Diana Outlet in Birmingham, two blocks north at 313 North 19th Avenue.4 Between 1975 and 1977, advertisements for the outlet noted sales and discounts that were also available at Peggie Hale.5 6
It appears the Peggie Hale store transitioned to Diana at some point between 1977 and 1979, and the last ads for the store are from late 1983.7 It’s unclear when Diana closed, but the space has long since been abandoned, and the sign remains untouched.
The imposing United States Post Office in New York City was a very late work of McKim, Mead & White—so late that two of the firm’s namesake founders, Charles McKim and Stanford White, had been dead for several years by the time it was completed in 1913.
At that point, McKim, Mead & White was a well-oiled machine that ran on an army of anonymous architects, but the project is now primarily credited to William M. Kendall.
The gleaming white five-story structure occupies two blocks of prime real estate in Midtown Manhattan and was built to complement its original neighbor, Pennsylvania Station,1 also designed by McKim, Mead & White, which was demolished in 1963.
The firm’s later output was often unremarkable and derivative, but there’s something special about this building, which is chock-full of exquisite materials and elegant details that reveal thoughtful attention to design despite the project’s massive scale.
Built for a hefty $6 million, the original structure included over 400,000 square feet of floor space and was composed of 165,000 cubic feet of Massachusetts granite, 18,000 tons of steel, 7 million bricks, and 200,000 square feet of glass.2
Most of that glass went into the giant skylight over the building’s central workroom, which was reportedly the largest room in the United States when the facility opened.3
The building’s public-facing interior spaces were elaborately decorated with Tennessee marble on the floors and walls, topped by ornamental plaster ceilings featuring the seals of 10 nations recognized for doing “great things for the advancement of the universal mail service.”4
A Harvard professor reportedly suggested that the architects add the inscription spanning the building’s facade, quoting Herodotus: “Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.”5
The statement originally referred to mail service in ancient Greece, but its inclusion in the building’s design made it an unofficial motto of the U.S. Postal Service.
A portion of the building still serves as a post office, but most of the structure now houses the Moynihan Train Hall, which opened in 2021.
The demolition of Penn Station is often cited as the event that launched the historic preservation movement in the United States, and the dark, dank, subterranean maze of low-slung corridors that replaced it is entirely unworthy of one of the world’s great cities.
Although that unnavigable mess still exists, converting the former post office into a modern train hall has restored much-needed prestige to New York’s landscape, and it’s encouraging to see such a fine building put to a worthy new use.
