Monastery at Large

Category: In the Words of G.L. Norrman

  • G.L. Norrman On His “Worst Dream” (1899)

    The Background

    Continuing the apocalyptic theme established in his previous article about G.L. Norrman, in May 1899, Wallace Putnam Reed of The Atlanta Constitution wrote the following article entitled “A Scientist’s Dream and Its Terrors”.

    In the story, Norrman and a friend—undoubtedly Reed himself—discussed the potential cataclysmic effects of an earthquake in the Isthmus of Panama. The conversation was spurred by Norrman’s interest in the 1692 Jamaica earthquake, as he was said to “devote considerable attention to such exceptional freaks of nature”.

    Norrman then went to sleep and experienced what he described as “the worst dream I ever had”, picturing his own slow, agonizing death—a curious foreshadowing of his actual death by suicide 10 years later.

    The story was published by several other newspapers throughout the United States.

    A Scientist’s Dreams and Its Terrors

    Some time ago Mr. Godfrey L. Norrman read a thrilling account of the great earthquake which destroyed the old city of Port Royal in the West Indies.

    The narrative interested him, and he could not dismiss it from his mind.

    His fondness for scientific studies had caused him to devote considerable attention to such exceptional freaks of nature, and the story of the Port Royal disaster led him to speculate upon the possibilities of similar calamities in future.

    One evening the matter came up while he was conversing with a friend who took a deep interest in such subjects, and in the course of their talk some startling theories and suggestions were discussed.

    “What would be the result if an earthquake should up tear up the Isthmus of Panama?” asked Mr. Norrman’s friend.

    “It would be far-reaching in its effects,’ was the reply, ‘and it would doubtless make the region we live in uninhabitable.”

    “You are right,” said the other. “I have studied the matter for years, and I have formed some very positive opinions about it. The great earthquakes of the past in the tropics may be repeated. Possibly they will occur in new localities, and on a gigantic scale. the Panama isthmus is only about fifty miles wide. Now, it would be easy for a big earthquake to tear a chasm several miles wide through that narrow strip of land.”

    “Just so,” assented Mr. Norrman.

    “Very well,” continued the prophet of evil. “It is understood that the Pacific is perhaps fully two inches lower than the Atlantic. You know what would happen.”

    “Yes,” answered the interested listener, “the gulf stream would change its course.”

    “Change is no name for it,” said the talker. “The gulf stream would rush with fearful velocity through the chasm into the Pacific and where would we be?”

    “Buried under mountains of snow and ice,” replied the other.

    “No doubt about that,” said the man who was predicting future horrors. “The loss of the gulf stream would suddenly change our climate. The gulf would freeze into a solid mass of ice. Florida would be covered with snow-clad glaciers, and Georgia would be bleak and cold as Alaska. The change would kill almost every living thing, but after some years this frozen territory would have a suitable animal and vegetable life. Polar bears would be numerous and perhaps tribes of hardy people like the Eskimos would live here. Other quarters of the globe would send exploring expeditions in this direction, and new Pearys and Andrees would try to discover traces of our buried civilization.”

    “Do you really believe all of this?” asked Mr. Norrman.

    “Yes, don’t you?”

    “Some of it—I hardly know to what extent,” was the response, “but I am inclined to agree with you that such a convulsion as you suggest would suddenly revolutionize our climate and make it impossible for us to live here. The diversion of the gulf stream would probably give us conditions similar to those of the arctic region.”

    There was more talk on the same line, and at a late hour Mr. Norrman went to bed with his head full of some very sensational theories, facts and predictions.

    Naturally, he had a dream, and it goes without saying that it was a holy terror. He was ripe for it—in the very state of mind for a nightmare.

    At first the dreamer found it very pleasant. He was on one of the islands near the Florida peninsula, and the glories of that flowery land and the summer sea dazzled and delighted him.

    Suddenly he staggered and came near falling. He felt dizzy and sick. The waves began rolling mountain high, and the island seemed to be rocking.

    What was the matter?

    A telegraph operator rushed out of his office and shouted to a group of tourists:

    “An earthquake has torn the isthmus of Panama wide open from sea to sea!”

    The tourists hurried away to carry the news to their families.

    Mr. Norrman was left alone on the beach.

    He had been watching numerous ships at a distance as they moved slowly over the waters.

    All at once their speed increased. They began to move rapidly, and in a short time they darted by in the direction of the Isthmus, so quickly that the spectator wondered how those on board could breathe. The vessels seemed to fly like arrows.

    The stiff breeze, growing stronger very moment, was getting colder.

    The solitary watcher on the beach felt too weak to walk to in a place of shelter, and he was glad to sit down where a huge rock shielded him from the gale.

    He remained there some two or three hours. The ships were no longer visible. Great masses of white fog advanced from every quarter, and a heavy snow began falling.

    The white fog began freezing, and big masses of ice could be seen in the gulf, circling around the island, while in the distance icebergs loomed up all in their white and awful splendor.

    Unable to move, the man by the rock felt that he was rapidly and surely freezing to death. The ground about him was covered with ice and snow. He was chilled to the very narrow, and shivered like an aspen leaf.

    No human being ever suffered more than Mr. Norrman during that frightful ordeal. Certain death apparently was his doom, and he gave up all hope. His tortures were so unbearable that he was anxious to die and end his misery. His ears, nose, feet and hands were frozen, and it was impossible for him to crawl.

    Yet his mind was abnormally active. He recalled all that he had ever read and heard about the horrors of arctic life, and he felt the keenest curiosity about the extent of the earthquake and its effects upon the south Atlanta and gulf states.

    Even in those moments of excruciating pain his thoughts turned to Georgia, and he laughed deliriously when he pictured to himself the astonishment of the promenaders in their spring costumes on Peachtree street when they lost their climate at one fell swoop, and found the snow drifts piling up around them.

    But human endurance has its limit.

    A tremendous howl exploding from his own throat awoke Mr. Norrman, and leaping from his bed, with chattering teeth and shaking limbs, he made a rush for the grate, and got as close as he possibly could to the fire.

    It was a pleasant spring night, but he was nearly frozen, and it took an hour to restore its circulation.

    “That was the worst dream I ever had,” said Mr. Norrman, “and it makes me shiver to think of it.“

    Wallace P. Reed1

    References

    1. Reed, Wallace Putnam. “A Scientist’s Dream and Its Terrors”. The Atlanta Constitution, May 5, 1899, p. 4. ↩︎

  • In the Words of G.L. Norrman: On Compensation (1907)

    Norrman & Falkner. E.W. McCerren Apartments, "The Chester" (1907). Atlanta.
    Norrman & Falkner. E.W. McCerren Apartments, “The Chester” (1907). Atlanta. 1 2

    The Background

    The September 1907 edition of The Inland Architect and News Record published the following remarks from G.L. Norrman expressing his dissatisfaction with the compensation structure for architects at the time.

    Norrman’s was one of multiple letters from architects across the United States calling for changes to the “Institute Schedule of Charges”, which was established by the American Institute of Architects and set a standard 5 percent fee for architects regardless of project cost or size.

    Norrman’s remarks:

    Atlanta, Ga.
    June 29th, 1907.

    “The past year we have been as busy as we could be. We could not have done any more if we had attempted it, and yet we have made comparatively very little. This, I think, goes to show that the present schedule of charges is too small for work which cost from $10,000 to $50,000, which is the average cost of houses in small towns. I think that for large buildings running up into the millions, the present rate would be fair renumeration; but for work done in small towns it seems that it is entirely inadequate to the training an architect must have, to the attention he must give his work and to the responsibility involved.”

    Very truly yours,3

    References

    1. Application for Building Permit, November 8, 1906 ↩︎
    2. “Some Personal Mention”. The Atlanta Journal, July 21, 1907, p. H5. ↩︎
    3. “The A.I.A. Schedule of Charges”. The Inland Architect and News Record, Volume 50, No. 3 (September 1907) p. 34. ↩︎

  • In the Words of G.L. Norrman: On Stanford White (1906)

    Charles McKim of McKim, Mead & White. Low Memorial Library at Columbia University (1897). New York.
    Charles McKim of McKim, Mead & White. Low Memorial Library at Columbia University (1897). New York.1

    The Background

    Stanford White was the lead designer for McKim, Mead & White, a New York firm that dominated American architectural design in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

    White was both an outstanding architect and a notorious public figure, already well-known for his wild philandering, excessive partying, and conspicuous overspending when he was murdered by the husband of one of his ex-lovers, Evelyn Nesbit, a former model and actress who was 16 when White allegedly drugged and raped her.

    Nesbit’s husband, Harry Thaw, had long been obsessed with White, and considered him a “menace,” although the architect was apparently oblivious to the threat.

    White died on the evening of June 25, 1906, when Thaw shot him three times in a crowd of hundreds at New York’s Madison Square Garden—which White incidentally designed.

    For nearly two years after the shooting, the front pages of American newspapers were covered in the lurid details of White’s seedy escapades on a near-daily basis, and the ensuing “Trial of the Century” ended when Thaw was declared not guilty by reason of insanity.

    The day after White’s murder, The Atlanta Georgian newspaper published remarks by G.L. Norrman, who reportedly met Stanford White when they both “were on the committee of awards at the Chicago Exposition in 1893.”

    I can’t confirm the committee’s existence, but the article explained that “Five other architects of the country were on the special committee that judged architectural drawings.”

    Norrman was obviously an admirer of McKim, Mead & White’s work, and many of his projects drew heavily on their designs.

    Additionally, Norrman claimed that he and White frequently met at the annual conventions of the American Institute of Architects, and he touted White highly as a designer.

    It should be noted, though, that the two projects for which Norrman praises White—the Low Memorial Library (pictured above) at Columbia University, and the Boston Public Library—are well-documented to be the work of White’s partner, Charles McKim.

    Norrman was likely thinking of the Gould Memorial Library in the Bronx, which was designed by White.

    Norrman’s remarks:

    “I knew White well. His work placed him before the country as a great designer. The library at the Columbia library in New York was designed by his firm, but the magnificent front of the building was the work of Mr. White himself. His work on the Boston library was also of great note. I have known him quite a while and the news of his tragic death is a great shock to me.”2

    References

    1. Low Memorial Library, Columbia University (U.S. National Park Service) ↩︎
    2. “Atlanta Architect Knew White Well”. The Atlanta Georgian, June 26, 1906, p. 1. ↩︎

  • In the Words of G.L. Norrman: On Advice for Prospective Architects (1903)

    G.L. Norrman. Cornice on the Lawrence McNeill Residence (1904). Savannah, Georgia.
    G.L. Norrman. Cornice on the Lawrence McNeill Residence (1904). Savannah, Georgia.1 2

    The Background

    This fascinating diatribe by G.L. Norrman was published in an April 1903 edition of The Sunny South, a supplementary publication distributed by The Atlanta Constitution.

    A reporter asked three leading Atlanta architects for advice to young men considering an architectural career—the emphasis on men is notable, as women were then entering the field in increasing numbers, including Atlanta’s own Henrietta C. Dozier.

    The article began as you might expect, with W.T. Downing and Willis F. Denny providing honest but measured remarks about the profession.

    Count on Norrman to speak his mind, though: his blunt and weary assessment of the architect’s plight included more than a hint of bitterness, and his criticism of open design competitions was especially timely.

    The following month, the plans Norrman entered in competition for the city hall in Savannah, Georgia, were deemed “the best of the fourteen submitted.”3 However, all the submitted plans were ultimately rejected, and the project was instead awarded to a local designer, H.W. Witcover.4

    A later newspaper report revealed: “The plans the City liked best, were those of Mr. G.L. Norrman of Atlanta, but he had no pull with the machine.”5

    The report alleged that Norrman’s plans were handed to Witcover—”a friend of the administration”—who was paid over $10,000 to design nearly identical ones.6 Savannah’s city hall was completed in 1906 and is indeed very similar to Norrman’s design.

    It’s no wonder Norrman was so disparaging of his profession.

    H.W. Witcover. City Hall (1906). Savannah, Georgia.
    H.W. Witcover. City Hall (1906). Savannah, Georgia.

    Norrman’s remarks:

    “The gift of gab is the essential thing for the architect. Knowledge, sense of proportion, and beauty, regard for it as an art, no longer count in architecture. One must be pleasant and agreeable, one must get business and make money.

    “This is success counted in dollars and cents. It is success as the public understands it. It is the succcess that is appreciated. Thorough knowledge is dangerous; a ‘pleasing address’ is more to be desired than great wisdom.

    “As I say, this is the popular conception of architecture. But architecture itself is an art; one must, in a large degree, be born for it. The training must be long and thorough—four years at some university, for the basic culture which leads to an understanding of the classic terms and figures used in architecture, and (in this country) four years in the polytechnic schools. In the École des Beaux-Arts in Paris the course is six years. After that, practical work in an architect’s office—making in all ten or twelve years of preparation.

    “Is the apprenticeship long and arduous? I should say so—that is, to become an architect. This, however, is not necessary to make money in the profession of architecture. One then needs only to learn the superficial tricks; and so long as he has the aforementioned gift of gab it is only necessary that his building be safe, and the bricks stay in place. The public will never be any wiser.

    “This is the most discouraging part of the profession. Let a man labor for years, and produce a masterpiece, the public will never notice it. It is the spirit of the age; it is as much so in Europe as in America. Nowadays, no one asks, Is he a good architect? but rather, Does he make money out of architecture?

    “This is true of all artistic professions, but the worst part of it as applied to architecture is that plans must often be submitted in competition, where the judges are men in other lines of work. They would laugh at you if you claimed to understand dry goods, and they would be offended if you intimated that they didn’t understand architecture, and yet they pass on your design. It may be the result of years of study and experience, and the best of the lot; but it is not an accident if it is accepted. Not knowing anything about it, they say, ‘Give it to So-and-so; he’s a good fellow.’

    “But to return to the beginner. His apprenticeship must be thorough, and in addition to his school training he must do office work. I think that artistic feeling is necessary to a large degree, though a sense of proportion and the finer distinctions between styles and ornament are largely things of habit and training. One may cultivate them much as a man cultivates command of language.

    “What does architecture offer? At a recent civil service examination 150 trained draughtsmen applied for a government position which paid $1,500 a year. The winner of the new depot competition will get $1,000, and this for years of hard and unappreciated work. A farmer could make more on one year’s hay crop, and with one-tenth the nervous strain and exertion. No, I can’t say that the young man may expect a bonanza.”7

    References

    1. “Mr. Lawrence McNeil’s New Residence”. Savannah Morning News (Savannah, Georgia), November 1, 1902, p. 12. ↩︎
    2. “Society”. Savannah Morning News, January 30, 1904, p. 7 ↩︎
    3. “Design By G.L. Norrman, Atlanta”. Savannah Morning News (Savannah, Georgia), May 20, 1903, p. 8. ↩︎
    4. “All Plans Rejected”. Savannah Morning News (Savannah, Georgia), May 28, 1903, p. 10. ↩︎
    5. “Lest We Forget”. The Searchlight (Savannah, Georgia), January 5, 1907, p. 2. ↩︎
    6. ibid. ↩︎
    7. “Architecture As a Career For Young Men”. The Sunny South (Atlanta), April 4, 1903, p. 4. ↩︎

  • In the Words of G.L. Norrman: In Defense of Stucco (1901)

    G.L. Norrman. Palladian window and stucco finish on the Arthur B.M. Gibbes Residence (1900). Savannah, Georgia.
    G.L. Norrman. Palladian window and stucco finish on the Arthur B.M. Gibbes Residence (1900). Savannah, Georgia.1

    The Background

    As was so often the case in his career, in September 1901, G.L. Norrman was compelled to justify his design choices to the dimwitted good ol’ boys of a local building committee.

    Norrman had submitted plans in competition with 13 other architects for the Duval County Courthouse in Jacksonville, Florida, after the previous structure burned in the Great Fire of 1901.

    Although Norman’s plan was publicly endorsed by five top officials, some members of the county commission reportedly objected to his proposal to finish the courthouse with stucco.

    The objection now seems absurd given the ubiquitous Spanish-Mediterranean influence that would come to define the “Florida style”—by the 1920s, you’d be hard-pressed to find a single building in the state that wasn’t slathered in cheap stucco.

    Norman used stucco extensively in his works from the late 1890s to the early 1900s, and, in response to the commission’s objections, he wrote a letter in which he deferentially offered to withhold the stucco finish from the structure, while also defending his preference for the material.

    In the letter, Norrman charted stucco’s origins to ancient Rome, although he erroneously referred to the Pantheon as the Parthenon. Norrman also noted that the General Post Office and the U.S. Patent Office Building in Washington, D.C.—both designed by Robert Mills—were finished in stucco.

    Norrman had to know that hick politicians in the Deep South wouldn’t give a shit about architecture in Europe or the North, though, too smugly consumed with playing God in their trashy little backwoods fiefdoms.

    So he pulled out an old trick that often works on dick-measuring politicians—in Atlanta, anyway—insinuating that Jacksonville just didn’t measure up to other Southern cities: “All the old buildings of Charleston, Savannah and New Orleans are finished in stucco”, he explained.

    Norrman’s effort was futile—the commission selected a fairly terrible plan designed by Rutledge Holmes, an unremarkable architect from Charleston who moved his practice to Jacksonville after the fire and lived in Florida for the remainder of his career.

    Holmes, incidentally, shot himself to death in 1929, twenty years after Norrman did the same. Southern architects are a tragic lot.

    The September 24, 1901, issue of The Evening Metropolis published Norrman’s letter to the Duval County commission in full.

    Norrman’s remarks:

    County Commissioners:

    “Dear Sir—I have been informed that there is some objection to the stucco finish which I specified as in my judgment being the most suitable finish for the new court house. If it be true that there there is any such objection to my design, I would respectfully suggest that the stucco be left off, and that the brick work be finished in the usual manner without any stucco. By such omission you will save 60 cents per yard or about $2,100. At the same time you will please allow me to call your attention to the fact that the oldest and most noted buildings in existence have been finished with stucco. Notably among these are the Parthenon [sic] and St. Peter’s, in Rome, which have been built for 2,000 years. Stucco is used in Europe, especially on the continent, nearly exclusively. All of the old buildings in Mexico, and, in fact, nearly all the buildings erected by the early Spaniards, both here and in South America, as well as in Spain, are finished with stucco. All of this is well known to every educated architect and can be corroborated by your expert.

    “In this country nearly all the old State houses and court houses of importance that were erected before the war, and which are now in tact [sic], are finished in stucco.

    “The United States postoffice [sic] and the patent office in Washington are finished in stucco.

    “All the above, I think is known to every builder of any ordinary information.

    “All the old buildings of Charleston, Savannah and New Orleans are finished in stucco, and Mr. Flagler is going to finish his Palm Beach palace with stucco, because it is actually the best finish to use on a brick or concrete building.

    “In my own practice I had been using stucco on buildings for the past twenty-five years, with very satisfactory results.”

    Very respectfully,

    G.L. NORRMAN2

    References

    1. “Dwellings.” The Engineering Record, Volume 41, no. 12 (March 24, 1900), p. 287. ↩︎
    2. “Court House Plan Selected.” The Evening Metropolis (Jacksonville, Florida), September 24, 1901, p. 1. ↩︎

  • In the Words of G.L. Norrman: On a Sea Wall for Galveston, Texas (1900)

    The Background

    Following the 1900 Galveston hurricane, which remains the deadliest natural disaster in U.S. history, G.L. Norrman opined that the Texas port city should build a seawall.

    His comments appeared in Wallace Putnam Reed‘s column for The Macon Telegraph in September 1900.

    If it sounds like Norrman was familiar with Galveston, there may be a reason: when he emigrated to the United States in 1874, he likely did so through the Port of Galveston.

    It’s also possible that Norrman worked in Galveston as a draftsman before starting his practice in South Carolina—one source claims his early career in the United States included “a few years spent in Texas.”1 I’ve never been able to confirm that, though.

    As a result of the hurricane, Galveston did indeed build a seawall.

    Norrman’s remarks:

    “Galveston should have a sea wall. Holland is below the ocean, and yet it is efficiently protected by dykes. Galveston is six feet above the sea, and a wall is feasible.

    “Then the buildings should be of a substantial, storm-proof character. People should prepare proper safeguards and not charge every disaster to Providence.”2

    References

    1. Withey, Henry F. and Withey, Elsie Rathburn. Biographical Dictionary of American Architects (Deceased). Los Angeles: New Age Publishing Co. (1956), p. 448. ↩︎
    2. Reed, Wallace Putnam. “Atlanta Street Talk.” The Macon Telegraph (Macon, Georgia), September 20, 1900 ↩︎

  • In the Words of G.L. Norrman: On Prohibition (1899)

    The Background

    A consistent theme in G.L. Norrman‘s life was his vocal opposition to prohibition, as the temperance movement was in full force in the United States in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, with many cities and states banning the sale and production of alcohol.

    Atlanta enacted prohibition in July 1886,1 reportedly prompting Norrman’s return for a brief time to Greenville, South Carolina,2 which hadn’t yet passed its own prohibition law, although nearby Spartanburg had in 1884—by just four votes.3 4

    Prohibition was immediately unpopular in Atlanta, and the city’s business leaders loudly complained about the resulting loss of revenue.

    In November 1887, as Atlantans prepared to vote for a repeal of the law, The Atlanta Constitution asked the city’s architects if they had designed any commercial buildings since prohibition began—none had. Norrman reported:

    “In response to your inquiry, I can say that I have no store building on hand to be erected in Atlanta, nor have I had for two years. I had some drawings made for five stores, two years ago, but they were not built, as the owner did not think it would pay to build them after prohibition started here.”5

    Three days after Norrman’s remarks, an estimated 15,000 Atlantans took to the streets in protest of prohibition,6 and the next day, voters overwhelmingly approved a measure ending the ban.7

    The threat of prohibition loomed again in 1899, when the Georgia House of Representatives approved a measure proposing a statewide ban,8 prompting Norman to write the following letter to The Atlanta Journal, published on December 2, 1899.

    The attempt at statewide prohibition in Georgia failed a few days later,9 10 but ultimately succeeded in 1907, 13 years before prohibition was enacted nationwide.

    Norrman’s remarks:

    “In answer to some requests for my opinion about the prohibition bill, I will say that I think it is too much ado about nothing.

    “It is morally wrong to confiscate property, or to debar people from using the comforts and luxuries of life in moderation on account of a few drunkards.

    “If school boys, church members, prohibitionists, club men and legislators, or anybody else if they should get drunk, were taken to the station house and well whipped, there would rarely, or ever, be and drunkenness.

    “‘The punishment should always fit the crime.’ So disgraceful behavior deserves disgraceful punishment.

    “Prohibition practically confiscates a great deal of capital which is now used in a legal and proper manner, while whipping drunkards instead of petting them would only queer the business of the professional revivalist. The only business that would be seriously affected by such a law is that of the temperance lecturer. He would necessarily have to go out of business less than six months after such a law went into effect, for the lack of stock in trade. After that time, if there should be any drunkards left, they would keep so quiet that he could hardly pick out enough to arouse any emotion, even in the most sentimental of sentimentalists.”

    G.L. Norrman11

    References

    1. “Closed Up”. The Atlanta Constitution, July 1, 1886, p. 1. ↩︎
    2. Morgan, Thomas H. “The Georgia Chapter of The American Institute of Architects”. The Atlanta Historical Bulletin, Volume 7, No. 28 (September 1943): p. 146. ↩︎
    3. “Local Option Elections”. Edgefield Advertiser (Edgefield, South Carolina), December 4, 1884, p. 2. ↩︎
    4. “Death Struggle With Saloons In Former Days of Spartanburg”. Spartanburg Weekly Herald, February 6, 1906, p. 6. ↩︎
    5. “Here Are the Facts”. The Atlanta Constitution, November 22, 1887, p. 5. ↩︎
    6. “15,000 People”. The Atlanta Constitution, December 4, 1884, p. 1. ↩︎
    7. “It Is Wet”. The Atlanta Constitution, November 27, 1887, p. 10. ↩︎
    8. “The Prohibition Bill Passed the House By Vote of 93 to 65”. The Atlanta Journal, November 22, 1899, p. 5. ↩︎
    9. “Prohibition Bill Killed in the Senate; Vote 26-14”. The Atlanta Journal, December 8, 1899, p. 1. ↩︎
    10. “Senate Kills Willingham Bill By Emphatic Vote of 26 to 14”. The Atlanta Constitution, December 9, 1899, p. 1. ↩︎
    11. “(Communicated.)” The Atlanta Journal, December 2, 1899, p. 5. ↩︎

  • In the Words of G.L. Norrman: On the Attainment of Education and Culture (1899)

    G.L. Norrman. Sixteenth Street School (1893). Columbus, Georgia. Illustration drawn by W.L. Stoddart.
    G.L. Norrman. Sixteenth Street School (1893). Columbus, Georgia. Illustration drawn by W.L. Stoddart.1

    The Background

    In June 1899, The Atlanta Constitution launched “The Constitution‘s Home Study Circle”, consisting of long-form printed lectures on a variety of subjects, with the promise of “instruction and general culture for those who make the most of its benefits.”

    Following the program’s announcement, G.L. Norrman wrote the Constitution to express his tentative approval.

    Norrman’s remarks:

    ‘The “Home Study Circle” is on the right line. I am not familiar with the details of your plan, but a glance at your course of free lessons for your readers convinces me that they will be of great value to those who will give them proper attention. Education and culture cannot be purchased in job lots, nor picked up in the road, but some systems and methods are easier and more attractive than others, and I think that your scheme of popular instruction is a good one, and will be appreciate by hosts of old and new readers.’

    Very sincerely,

    G.L. NORRMAN2

    References

    1. American Architect and Building News, vol. 38, no. 883 (November 26, 1892). ↩︎
    2. “From Mr. G.L. Norrman”. The Atlanta Constitution, June 9, 1899, p. 4. ↩︎

  • In the Words of G.L. Norrman: On Huntsville, Alabama (1899)

    G.L. Norrman. Bienville Hotel (1900, demolished circa 1969). Mobile, Alabama.
    G.L. Norrman. Bienville Hotel (1900, demolished circa 1969). Mobile, Alabama.

    The Background

    In June 1899, The Atlanta Journal published remarks from G.L. Norrman about Huntsville, Alabama, where he had just returned “from a business visit.”

    Norrman may have visited the area in connection with plans to renovate the Lauderdale County Courthouse in nearby Florence, Alabama, a project that was ultimately awarded to Golucke & Stewart of Atlanta.1

    It’s unclear if Norrman ever completed any work in the Huntsville area, although he designed multiple projects in Anniston and Gadsden, Alabama, in the late 1880s and early 1890s.

    In late 1899, Norrman briefly considered moving his practice to Birmingham, Alabama, when he was designing the Bienville Hotel (pictured above) in the port city of Mobile, 250 miles south of Birmingham. Instead, he remained in Atlanta, and there’s no evidence that Norrman ever completed any work in Birmingham.

    Norrman’s remarks:

    “I like Huntsville very much. It’s a pretty, thrifty little town—the people there dress well and seem to be prosperous and the streets are full of elegantly dressed, handsome ladies.

    “A great stream of water, twenty-odd feet broad, gushes from rock to the tune of over a million gallons a minute. It is a most refreshing sight— this spring. This hot weather a man can almost keep cool who carries around a picture of the Huntsville spring in his mind.”2

    References

    1. “$5,000 To Be Spent”. The Florence Herald (Florence, Alabama), June 22, 1899, p. 1. ↩︎
    2. “Loitering In the Lobbies”. The Atlanta Journal, June 13, 1899, p. 3. ↩︎

  • In the Words of G.L. Norrman: On the Meaning of “Civilization” and “Christian Community” (1899)

    George E. Walker. Trinity Episcopal Church (1860). Abbeville, South Carolina.
    George E. Walker. Trinity Episcopal Church (1860). Abbeville, South Carolina.1 2

    The Background

    In May 1899, The Atlanta Constitution published this short letter from G.L. Norrman in its “Topics About Which the People Are Talking” column.

    Norrman’s own views of Christianity and society were already well-documented in his pamphlet Architecture As Illustrative of Religious Belief and as a Means of Tracing Civilization, and here he suggested that the newspaper interview people on their definition of the terms “civilization” and “Christian community”.

    The note includes an outdated and offensive term referencing people of color.

    Norrman’s remarks:

    “In all countries, where moral and social systems similar to our own prevail, two expressions are in use among all sorts and conditions of men, to which each individual man seems to give his own interpretation. These terms are used in the kitchen and in the parlor; in squalid hovels and in the most elaborate apartments; we hear them in the barroom, at the bar of justice and behind jail bars. From press and pulpit they are heard continually, and fanatics for ages have made zealous use of them while kindling cruel bonfires for the immolation of their fellow creatures. Politicians use them as a means of catching votes; trades people to sell goods; promotors of all sorts to float their schemes. Sometimes they are used by learned professors and sometimes by ignorant field negroes. The expressions I have reference to are ‘civilization’ and ‘Christian community.’ I think it would be interesting to a large number of your subscribers to read definitions of these terms from people of various pursuits and various intellectual attainments.”3

    References

    1. Trinity Episcopal Church and Cemetery, Abbeville County – SCDAH ↩︎
    2. Restoring Abbeville’s Trinity Episcopal Church – South Carolina Public Radio ↩︎
    3. “Topics About Which the People Are Talking”. The Atlanta Constitution, May 1, 1899, p. 4. ↩︎