Category: G.L. Norrman

The Background

Continuing an 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.

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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. ↩︎

The Background

Atlanta and the United States were in the throes of the Great Blizzard of 1899 when Wallace Putnam Reed, a friend of G.L. Norrman‘s, wrote the following article as part of his weekly column in The Atlanta Constitution.

Two days before the article’s publication, Atlanta received 6.5 inches of snow and recorded its all-time low temperature of nearly -9 °F^{1 2} in a cataclysmic nationwide cold snap.

Described by one forecaster as “probably the most remarkable in the history of the country”,³ the blizzard left hundreds of Atlantans stranded without food and fuel for heat,^{4 5 6} and caused more than $1 million of crop losses in Georgia and $100,000 of pipe damage in Atlanta.^{7 8}

With the ice and snow still melting, Reed asked a timely question: “Is our climate changing?”, and introduced his readers to Norrman’s belief that Earth’s geographic poles cataclysmically shifted at earlier points in its history, a debunked pseudo-scientific theory that was first hypothesized in the late 19th century.

The article served as a promotion for Norrman’s pamphlet, Architecture as Illustrative of Religious Belief, in which he explained his pole-shift hypothesis, among other theories.

Here, Reed referred to the infamous “Cold Friday” of 1833, which was previously reputed as the coldest day on record in the Atlanta area,⁹ although the city didn’t even exist at that point. Reed also mentioned Terminus and Marthasville — both were early names for Atlanta.¹⁰

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Our Polar Weather And Its Suggestions

Is our climate changing?

Occasionally this question is asked in a humorous way by some old-timer who takes the position that the war ruined everything down this way, including our weather.

But the suggestion has a serious aspect.

A few exceptionally cold winters in the course of a century, or a dozen centuries, would not be conclusive proof of a permanent change of climate.

This globe of ours is very old. According to the scientists, it is at least 100,000 years old, and in that period many remarkable physical revolutions have occurred.

Of course we have had very cold spells in Georgia before the present age. Everyone of my older readers is ready right now to remind me of that memorable and destructive freeze two generations ago, along the thirties, shortly before the big panic.

That was bad enough, but there were fewer people here to suffer in those days, and Atlanta escaped entirely, because there was then no Atlanta—not even Marthasville or Terminus; and I doubt whether Hardy Ivey [sic] had built his solitary cabin on the site of our metropolis.

It was a terrible visitation—that cold Friday. Fruit trees, vegetation and crops were ruined. Thousands of forest trees exploded–bursting wide open.

The people had not recovered when the panic came. then, cotton fell 3 or 4 cents, and many farmers lost everything. Their creditors pushed them to the wall, and sold them out, not sparing even their beds, pots and kettles and cheap tableware.

Some scientific men maintain that in the remote past this was a very cold region. Mr. G.L. Norrman touches upon the subject very entertainingly in his recent pamphlet, entitled “Architecture as Illustrative of Religious Belief.”

Mr. Norrman accounts for the flood by suggesting that sometime during the earth’s existence the accumulation and congealing of the vapors at the poles made them the largest diameter of the globe, and, when this took place, the earth naturally found its equilibrium on a different axis, and turned about 90 degrees.

This is a very startling suggestion, and there is a sufficient basis of fact for it to attract the attention of the thoughtful.

The pamphlet referred to in the foregoing paragraphs says that the poles were perhaps changed from some points near the present equator, taking the place of the former equator at points near the present poles. If such a change in the poles occurred, it would account for many curious phenomena on this sphere.

Such a change would of course change the beds of the oceans.

What are now productive valleys may have been the bottom of the ocean, and the present bed of the ocean may have been tilled valleys, ages and ages ago.

This change of the oceans would have caused a tremendous rush of the waters, destroying everything in their way.

It would account for the phosphate beds, where animals of every kind—lions, tigers, elephants, fish and reptiles—are piled together, as firmly as if a million Niagaras had rammed them in the crevices where they are found.

The coal beds, also, may have had a similar origin, though they may be traced to other causes.

Only some such catastrophe as the changing of poles will satisfactorily account for the remains of tropical plants and animals under the ice and snow in Siberia and Greenland, and the existence of glaciers at the equator.

Remains of tropical animals and plants could hardly have been in the arctic regions, unless that part of the earth had been tropical at some time, and unless a very sudden change in the temperature had taken place.

Whatever power caused the phosphate beds, the coal beds and the existence of tropical plants and animals under the ice and snow of the arctics was necessarily a power sufficiently great to destroy nearly every vestige of life and civilization.

Only on isolated mountain tops could life have been preserved.

People do not like to think of such gigantic convulsions of nature, and contemplate the possibility of their repetition.

Yet, the pendulum always swings backward. Its return may be delayed, but sooner or later it must come.

It is possible, therefore, that sometime in the future another violent shock will cause the present poles and the equator to change places; or again reoccupy their former localities.

The human mind can hardly grasp the full meaning of such a change.

Under such conditions the now frozen regions around the poles would be transformed into productive garden spots, while our south Atlantic and gulf states would be buried under mountains of perpetual snow and ice.

Intrepid explorers would probably make their way to Georgia, Florida and Cuba, and return to their tropical Greenland homes with big stories of the polar bears and reindeers seen in this locality.

Fortunately, there is no immediate danger, unless a tremendous earthquake should unexpectedly bring about the change.

For hundreds, and possibly thousands of years to come, this will probably remain the sunny south, with a delightful climate, and a rapidly increasing productive capacity.

The speculations of the scientists will not justify anybody in knocking off work and neglecting the improvement of their real estate.

If Georgia ever becomes an arctic territory again, it will probably be thousands of years hence. By that time our history will have been forgotten. New races may then live here. Perhaps not a vestige of our present civilization will remain.

So we need not concern ourselves bout these matters.

Some years ago there was a very brilliant Atlantian of a scientific turn of mind who was greatly worried over the idea that an earthquake or a canal across the isthmus of Panama might divert the gulf stream from its course, and turn this region into a frozen waste, where no human beings could exist, but his warnings did not alarm many people.

Let us leave the calamities of the future to those who will have to bear them. In the meantime we have our hands full taking care of ourselves and the sufferers at our doors during our occasional blizzards.

Wallace P. Reed¹¹

References

1. “Coldest Ever Known in Atlanta; Eight Degrees Below at 7 O’Clock”. The Atlanta Journal, February 13, 1899, p. 1. ↩︎
2. ‘Coldest Day on Record Yesterday; Celebrated “Cold Friday” Outdone’. The Atlanta Constitution, February 14, 1899, p. 1. ↩︎
3. “Back of Blizzard Is Broken; Work for the Needy Yesterday”. The Atlanta Constitution, February 15, 1899, p. 1. ↩︎
4. ibid. ↩︎
5. “Coldest Ever Known in Atlanta; Eight Degrees Below at 7 O’Clock”. The Atlanta Journal, February 13, 1899, p. 1. ↩︎
6. “How Atlanta Furnished Food and Fuel to Sufferers from the Cold”. ↩︎
7. “How Blizzard Struck Georgia; Peach Crop Will Be a Failure”. The Atlanta Constitution, February 14, 1899, p 1. ↩︎
8. “Effect and Cost of Blizzard to Atlanta and Georgia”. The Atlanta Journal, February 15, 1899, p. 5. ↩︎
9. ‘Coldest Day on Record Yesterday; Celebrated “Cold Friday” Outdone’. The Atlanta Constitution, February 14, 1899, p. 1. ↩︎
10. History of Atlanta – Wikipedia ↩︎
11. Reed, Wallace P. “Our Polar Weather and Its Suggestions”. The Atlanta Constitution, February 15, 1899, p. 4. ↩︎

The Background

The following biographical sketch, published in 1884, is one of just a few sources detailing the early life of G.L. Norrman, including an interesting anecdote about a violent outburst in his youth—a forerunner of many to follow.

The sketch appeared as part of an article in The Atlanta Constitution heralding the completion of the first “modern” office building in the city, designed by Norrman and owned and anchored by the Gate City National Bank.

Located at the southeast corner of Alabama and Pryor Streets, the 5-story structure was one of Norrman’s most important early works, designed in the “metropolitan style”, with Stone Mountain granite for the foundation, Tennessee limestone on the lower floors, and pressed brick on the upper floors.

The building’s entrance porticoes were made of Ohio freestone and carved by a mysterious Mr. Ruckle, who was said to be a graduate of the “national school of fine arts at Munich”.²

Inside, the building included an elevator,³ which was still a novelty in Atlanta—the city’s first elevator debuted at J.F. & M.C. Kiser department store in 1877,⁴ and there were only about 20 elevators in the city in 1884.⁵

The project took nearly 2 years to complete⁶ and was officially credited to Humphries & Norrman.⁷ However, George P. Humphries left the firm shortly before its completion,⁸ and it appears Norrman was the primary designer, assisted by his first known draughtsman, Aug Petersen.

L. J. Hill, president of the Gate City National Bank, praised Norrman’s design for the building, saying: “…no finer architect need be wanted by anyone than Mr. Norrman.”

Although the article calls it the “Hill building”, the structure was typically referred to as the Gate City National Bank until the institution abruptly closed its doors and was sold in 1893,^{9 10} after an employee embezzled over $100,000 from its coffers.^{11 12}

Seizing the opportunity for prime real estate, the Venable Brothers of Atlanta purchased the building,¹⁴ and in 1895, added 3 floors¹⁵ with a roof garden,¹⁶ installed “two swift modern elevators”,¹⁷ renovated the interior,¹⁸ and renamed the structure Temple Court (pictured above).¹⁹

Billed as “Taller than the Equitable“,²⁰ the 8-story Temple Court gave the structure a new lease on life, as it was already becoming outmoded by Atlanta’s first “skyscrapers” of the 1890s, which topped out at a whopping 10 floors by the end of the decade.

The Temple Court addition was reportedly designed by another architectural firm,²¹ but while work was underway on the project,²² Norrman was also hired by the Venables to design the 10-story Hotel Venable (unbuilt).^{23 24 25 26 27} Whoever was responsible for the Temple Court addition (I suspect Bruce & Morgan²⁸), it appears to have seamlessly matched Norrman’s original design.

Temple Court was demolished in May 1929 for a 3-story hotel,^{29 30} shortly after its ground floor and basement were stripped of their ornamentation and sealed beneath the Alabama Street viaduct, then under construction.³¹ The new structure was simply built on top of the old building’s ground floor, vestiges of which can still be seen in whatever remains of Underground Atlanta.

This need for fact-checking is strong in this biographical sketch, which appears to have been hastily written: it’s chock-full of run-on sentences, overly long paragraphs, and numerous misspelled names. It also makes several claims that merit further attention. Among them:

• I haven’t been able to confirm that Norrman served 3 years in the “royal navy”, but in the mid-19th century, all Swedish males between the ages of 20 and 25 were required to serve in the military for 4 weeks every 2 years.³² At Norrman’s death, a photograph was also found of him “in full dress suit of a marine”.³³
• The “government engineer corps” mentioned in the article could be the Pontonjärbataljonen, a battalion stationed in Stockholm that primarily built bridges.
• The “Academy of Design” could refer to the Teknologiska institutet in Stockholm. However, it could also reference the Royal Danish Academy of Fine Arts in Copenhagen, as papers found at Norrman’s death³⁴ indicated he attended “the famous University of Copenhagen”³⁵ and a German technical university.^{36 37} Adding to the confusion, a 1892 profile claimed Norrman “finished his regular educational course in the finest school of Stockholm.” It does seem likely that he was educated in that city, as Swedish church records show that Herr Gottfrid Leonard Norrman left his home parish for Stockholm at the age of 18.
• Norrman and his first partner in Atlanta, M.B. Weed, can only be partially credited with the design of the main building at the International Cotton Exposition. The original plan was designed by W.H.H. Whiting of Boston,^{38 39} and it appears Norrman & Weed designed multiple expansions of the building during its construction.^{40 41} The firm also designed 5 accessory buildings at the exhibition, with Fay & Eichberg of Atlanta designing two.^{42 43}
• In addition to the exposition buildings, 19 of Norrman’s other works are mentioned in the sketch, although many are given incorrect names or locations. Only one of those, the Edward C. Peters House, remains standing — Atlanta does love the wrecking ball. The correct names, dates, and locations for each project are:
  • St. Luke’s Cathedral, built 1883 and demolished 1906 – NE corner of North Pryor and Houston Streets, Atlanta – later site of Georgia-Pacific Center, Downtown [Map]
  • Unitarian Church of Our Father, built 1883 and demolished 1900 for construction of Carnegie Library – SW corner of Church and Forsyth Streets, Atlanta [Map]
  • Edward C. Peters Residence, “Ivy Hall”, completed 1883 – 179 Ponce de Leon Avenue NE; Midtown, Atlanta [Map]
  • William H. Venable Residence, built 1883 – 19 Forrest Avenue, Atlanta [Map]
  • William S. Everett Residence, built 1884 – 278 Peachtree Street, Atlanta – later site of Atlanta Expressway (I-75/85) [Map]
  • William D. Ellis Residence, built 1882 and demolished for construction of Atlanta Expressway (I-75/85) – 193 Washington Street, Atlanta [Map]
  • John Milledge Residence, built 1883 – 120 East Peters Street, NE corner of East Peters Street and Capitol Place, Atlanta – later site of 2 Capitol Square SW, Downtown [Map]
  • Horace Bumstead Residence, “Bumstead Cottage”, built 1883 and demolished by 1929 – 169 Vine Street, NE corner of Vine Street and University Place, Atlanta [Map]
  • Thomas H. Blacknall Residence, built 1883 and likely demolished for construction of East-West Expressway (I-20) – 56 Park Avenue, SE corner of Park and Lee Streets, West End, Atlanta [Map]
  • West End Academy, built 1883-4 and demolished circa 1911 – Lee Street, West End, Atlanta [Map]
  • Ponce De Leon Springs pavilion, built 1883 and demolished circa 1914 – later site of Sears, Roebuck & Company Building, Atlanta. [Map]
  • Robert A. Hemphill Residence, built 1884 – 231 Peachtree Street, Atlanta – later site of SunTrust Plaza, Downtown [Map]
  • Daniel N. Speer Residence, built 1882 – 486 Peachtree Street, SW corner of Peachtree and Linden Streets, Atlanta – later site of Emory University Hospital Midtown [Map]
  • Dr. Spalding Residence, built 1883 – 484 Peachtree Street, NE corner of Peachtree and Howard Streets, Atlanta – later site of Emory University Hospital Midtown [Map]
  • Nathaniel P.T. Finch Residence, built 1881 – 388 Peachtree Street, Atlanta [Map]
  • R. H. Richards Residence, built 1885 and demolished 1925 for construction of Davison-Paxon-Stokes Company building – 190 Peachtree Street, Atlanta [Map]
  • Homer G. Barber Residence, built 1884 – 147 Forrest Avenue, Atlanta – later site of Georgia Power Company, Old Fourth Ward [Map]
  • William A. Osborn Residence, built 1884 – 194 Jackson Street, Atlanta [Map]
  • Grant Park pavilion, built 1884 – Grant Park, Atlanta [Map]

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G.L. Norrman, Architect.

Probably no man in Atlanta is more widely or favorably known than Mr. G.L. Norrman. He has only been here about three years, but in that time has furnished designs for fully $2,000,000 worth of buildings of every character, including of course, the time when he had Mr. Humphries associated with him as partner.

Mr. Norrman now occupies rooms 58 and 59 on the fourth floor, and is nicely equipped with all the appurtenances of a first class architect. He is a Swede by birth, and held a position for three years in the royal navy. He has ever been a man of great nerve and pluck an amusing incident which occurred while he was in the navy going to prove this fact. A superior officer having given him some very insolent words, had the pleasure of being straightened out on deck by a blow from Mr. Norrman’s fist. He soon after resigned from the marine service, and took a position in the government engineer’s corps where he distinguished himself for his ability. Mr. Norrman was educated in architecture at the Academy of Design in Stockholm. His first work after reaching Atlanta was to draw up plans for the great cotton exposition buildings in 1881, which were accepted and will be remembered by everyone, of course. He also designed the St. Luke’s cathedral and the Unitarian church, which are universally admired. The great characters [sic] which Mr. Norrman’s work always shows, has made it popular among those who appreciated individuality, and the fact that within three years he has done $2,000,000 in houses, is sufficient evidence of his merit as an architect. He designed Colonel Richard Peter‘s fine house on Peachtree [sic] , Mr. W.H. Venabla‘s [sic], Mr. Everett‘s, Mr. Ellis‘, on Washington; Captain Milledge‘s, Professor Bumbstead‘s [sic], Major Blacknall’s at West End; the West End academy buildings, the Ponce de Leon pavilion, Mr. R.A. Hemphill‘s, Colonel Dan Speer‘s, Mr. Spaulding‘s [sic], Mr. Finchs‘s [sic] and many others not necessary to mention. Mr. Norman now has a number of homes in hand, among them Mr. Richard‘s [sic] fine residence on Peachtree, which is to cost $40,000; Mr. Barber‘s, Mr. Osborne‘s [sic] on Jackson street, and many others. He has also the designs for a very neat pavilion to be placed in Grant’s park.

Perhaps the great monument to Mr. Norrman’s architectural skill and ability is the Hill building, the subject of this sketch. The cut herewith presented does not give an adequate idea of the perfection of the building, but it serves to show in a measure its graceful, massive proportions. Mr. Hill expresses himself more than satisfied. Said he, “I consider my building one of the best constructed in the country, and I take pleasure in saying that no finer architect need be wanted by anyone than Mr. Norrman. His work here far exceeded may expectations.” Mr. Aug Peterson, also from Sweden, is associated as assistant with Mr. Norrman. He studied architecture at the institute of technology in Norkpoking [sic]. It gives The Constitution pleasure to add its own praise to Mr. Norrman’s value to the architectural worth of Atlanta.⁴⁴

References

1. Photo credit: The Atlanta Historical Society. Atlanta in 1890: “The Gate City”. Macon, Georgia: Mercer University Press (1986). ↩︎
2. “The Hill Building.” The Atlanta Constitution, March 16, 1884, p. 4. ↩︎
3. ibid. ↩︎
4. “A Bounding Business”. The Atlanta Constitution, August 2, 1877, p. 2. ↩︎
5. “Atlanta.” The Atlanta Constitution, October 1, 1884, p. 33. ↩︎
6. ibid. ↩︎
7. “Real Estate Notes.” The Atlanta Constitution, May 8, 1882, p. 7. ↩︎
8. “Dissolution.” The Atlanta Constitution, February 28, 1884, p. 3. ↩︎
9. “It Is Closed.” The Atlanta Journal, February 24, 1893, p. 1. ↩︎
10. “The Building Is Sold.” The Atlanta Journal, April 27, 1893, p. 1. ↩︎
11. $65,000!” The Atlanta Journal, February 22, 1893, p. 1. ↩︎
12. “Redwine $103,148 Short”. The Atlanta Journal, March 16, 1893, p. 1. ↩︎
13. Photo credit: Atlanta City Council and the Atlanta Chamber of Commerce. Handbook of the City of Atlanta: A Comprehensive Review of the City’s Commercial, Industrial and Residential Conditions (1898). ↩︎
14. “The Highest In Atlanta”. The Atlanta Journal, September 28, 1894, p. 8. ↩︎
15. “Three Stories Higher”. The Atlanta Journal, February 4, 1895, p. 5. ↩︎
16. ‘It Will Be “Temple Court.” The Atlanta Journal, June 24, 1895, p. 7. ↩︎
17. ibid. ↩︎
18. “Three Stories Higher”. The Atlanta Journal, February 4, 1895, p. 5. ↩︎
19. ‘It Will Be “Temple Court”.’ The Atlanta Journal, June 24, 1895, p. 7. ↩︎
20. “The Highest In Atlanta”. The Atlanta Journal, September 28, 1894, p. 8. ↩︎
21. “G.L. Norrman Ends His Life In Room In the Majestic”. The Atlanta Journal, November 16, 1909, p. 1. ↩︎
22. “By the Venables.” The Atlanta Constitution, May 1, 1895, p. 5. ↩︎
23. “Ten Stories High”. The Atlanta Constitution, April 4, 1895, p. 5. ↩︎
24. “Hotel Venable Goes Up”. The Atlanta Journal, April 4, 1895, p. 6. ↩︎
25. “‘Twill Be a Big Hotel”. The Atlanta Constitution, April 5, 1895, p. 5. ↩︎
26. “It Will Be Built”. The Atlanta Constitution, April 6, 1895, p. 5. ↩︎
27. “The Proposed Hotel Venable.” The Atlanta Journal, April 8, 1895, p. 10. ↩︎
28. “New Buildings.” The Atlanta Constitution, July 13, 1895, p. 9. ↩︎
29. “Plan for Hotel on Temple Court Site Announced”. The Atlanta Journal, April 28, 1929, p. D8. ↩︎
30. “Building Material”. The Atlanta Constitution, May 26, 1929, p. 7C. ↩︎
31. Rubin, Ernest. “Property Owners See Bright Future For Viaduct Area”, The Atlanta Constitution, December 23, 1928, pp. 1, 6. ↩︎
32. Allotment system – Wikipedia ↩︎
33. “Architect G.L. Norrman Speeds a Fatal Bullet Through Right Temple”. The Atlanta Constitution, November 17, 1909, p. 1. ↩︎
34. “G.L. Norrman Ends His Life In Room In the Majestic”. The Atlanta Journal, November 16, 1909, pp. 1-2. ↩︎
35. ibid. ↩︎
36. ibid. ↩︎
37. “Architect G.L. Norrman Speeds a Fatal Bullet Through Right Temple”. The Atlanta Constitution, November 17, 1909, p. 1. ↩︎
38. The International Cotton Exposition of Products, Machinery and Manufactures. Atlanta: Jas. P. Harrison & Co. (1881). ↩︎
39. “Exposition Notes.” The Atlanta Constitution, November 12, 1881, p. 11. ↩︎
40. “Spreading Out.” The Atlanta Constitution, September 11, 1881, p. 7. ↩︎
41. “Cotton.” The Atlanta Constitution, October 5, 1881, p. 10. ↩︎
42. The International Cotton Exposition of Products, Machinery and Manufactures. Atlanta: Jas. P. Harrison & Co. (1881). ↩︎
43. “Cotton.” The Atlanta Constitution, October 5, 1881, p. 10. ↩︎
44. “The Hill Building.” The Atlanta Constitution, March 16, 1884, p. 4. ↩︎

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. ↩︎

It’s astounding that I’m still discovering works designed by G. L. Norrman, decades after I first began looking for them. Just this week, another one revealed itself, bringing my total of Norrman’s projects to about 420.

In an article from the February 6, 1927, issue of The Spartanburg Herald, the author recounted the history of the Kennedy Free Library in Spartanburg, South Carolina. The library’s first building was completed in 1885 — “Norman was the architect“, the writer casually notes.²

As Norrman practiced in Spartanburg between 1878 and 1881, and continued to return there for work throughout his career, “Norman” undoubtedly refers to him.

The above illustration shows the 2-story building, which was located just off the northeast corner of Spartanburg’s public square on a short street initially named Kennedy Place, and later Dunbar Street.

A Sanborn fire insurance map from 1888 indicates that the library was located on the second floor, with retail space on the first,³ as confirmed by the shoe store advertised in the illustration.

The building intrigues me for several reasons:

• It’s a rare example of Norrman incorporating Gothic styling into one of his designs, which he appears to have largely disfavored, even for churches and school buildings. In a 1892 interview, he stated: “I prefer the classic for libraries…”
• The building’s cornerstone was laid in June 1883, a full 2 years after Norrman relocated from Spartanburg to Atlanta in April 1881,^{4 5} allegedly because he was upset by the “cheap construction” of his Spartan Inn project.⁶ Although Norrman owed the bulk of his professional success to Atlanta, I suspect his heart always belonged to Spartanburg: he maintained lifelong friendships in the town, and it was there where he became a United States citizen (his naturalization papers were still held there in 1909).⁷ Norrman must have visited South Carolina in 1882, when the Newberry Opera House was completed, and there were multiple residences in Spartanburg built between 1882 and 1884 (all demolished) that appear to have been his designs. This discovery adds further evidence that Norrman never entirely abandoned the Upcountry.
• Norrman didn’t truly come into his own as a designer until his 1886 plan for the W.W. Duncan Residence — fittingly, also located in Spartanburg. Anything from what I consider Norrman’s juvenilia period (1876-1885) is interesting because very little of it is immediately recognizable as his work, unlike most of his projects from the late 1880s onwards. I’ve seen the library illustration many times before, but never considered that he designed the building.
• The library’s appearance shared some similarities with another building in Spartanburg that I have long suspected may be of Norrman’s design, although I can’t find conclusive proof. The building at 154-156 West Main Street (pictured below) was built in 1882⁸ and is notable for its quirky little Second Empire-style cupola.

As it stands, the only extant store building in Spartanburg that I feel confident attributing to Norrman is the unremarkable structure at 101 East Main Street (pictured below).

The building was originally one-half of a block of 2 adjoining storerooms and is likely a project designed by Norrman for A.G. Owens of Mississippi in 1879.⁹ The neighboring space was later gutted by fire, although its facade (not original) is intact, and the remaining half has been significantly altered.

It appears the 1885 building that housed the Kennedy Free Library was demolished in 1974 for the widening of Dunbar Street,^{10 11 12} one year before the demolition of the nearby Duncan Building¹³ (pictured below), which Norrman designed¹⁴ in 1891.¹⁵

Both structures were victims of Spartanburg’s attempt to convert its downtown into a “mall”, following a plan by Skidmore, Owings, and Merrill that called for the creation of one-way streets and the wholesale demolition of historic buildings to lure savvy shoppers back to a modernized central core.¹⁶

As with the hundreds of other U.S. cities that “malled” their downtowns in the 1970s, Spartanburg’s effort was an abject failure,¹⁷ and a planned 15-story hotel and civic center complex to be built on the “Opportunity Block,” which included both the library and Duncan Building, failed to materialize.¹⁸

And thus does America continue to destroy itself: through arrogant plans and empty promises.

References

1. Illustration credit: A Story of Spartan Push: The Greatest Manufacturing Centre in the South. Spartanburg, South Carolina, and its Resources. Spartanburg, South Carolina: The News and Courier (July 28, 1890), p. 52. ↩︎
2. Mims, Julius. “Kennedy Library Improves Present Cataloging System”. The Spartanburg Herald (Spartanburg, South Carolina), February 6, 1927, p. 17. ↩︎
3. Spartanburg, 1888 January – Sanborn Fire Insurance Maps of South Carolina ↩︎
4. “Messrs. Norrman & Weed.” The Atlanta Constitution, April 12, 1881, p. 4. ↩︎
5. “Various and all About.” The Newberry Herald (Newberry, South Carolina), May 4, 1881, p. 3. ↩︎
6. “Converse To Show Fruits Of Recent Funds Campaign”. Spartanburg Herald-Journal, October 6, 1957, p. A4. ↩︎
7. “Prominent Architect Here.” The Spartanburg Herald, September 30, 1909, p. 8. ↩︎
8. National Register of Historic Places — Nomination Form: Spartanburg Historic District ↩︎
9. “More Improvements Contemplated.” The Spartanburg Herald, January 29, 1879, p. 4. ↩︎
10. “Dunbar Street Demolition Is Next In Mall Progress”. The Spartanburg Herald, June 12, 1974, p. B1. ↩︎
11. “Another Move In City Redevelopment”. The Spartanburg Herald, July 30, 1974, p. A9. ↩︎
12. “This View From On Top Shows The Shape Of Things To Come”. Spartanburg Herald-Journal, August 3, 1974, p. B1. ↩︎
13. Dalhouse, Debbie. “Opportunity Block Demolition Begins”. The Spartanburg Herald (Spartanburg, South Carolina), September 16, 1975, p. A1. ↩︎
14. “Former Spartan Commits Suicide”. The Journal (Spartanburg, South Carolina), November 17, 1909, p. 1. ↩︎
15. Racine, Philip N. Spartanburg County: A Pictorial History. Virginia Beach, Virginia: The Donning Company/Publishers (1980), p. 62. ↩︎
16. “Spartanburg’s Downtown Mall”. The Spartanburg Herald-Journal (Spartanburg, South Carolina), March 2, 1974, p. C1. ↩︎
17. Shook, Lynn. “Main Street Mall May See Traffic Again.” Spartanburg Herald-Journal (Spartanburg, South Carolina), August 30, 1984, p. A1. ↩︎
18. Smith, Adam C. “Spartanburg back at drawing board”. Spartanburg Herald-Journal, July 28, 1991. p. B1. ↩︎

The Background

This fascinating diatribe by G.L. Norrman was published in the article “Architecture as a Career for Young Men”, from the April 4, 1903, edition of The Sunny South.

A reporter asked three leading Atlanta architects of the time for advice to young men considering an architectural career (the emphasis on men is notable, as women were entering the field in increasing numbers).

While W.T. Downing and W.F. Denny provided honest but measured remarks, Norrman gave a surprisingly blunt and weary assessment of the architect’s plight, with more than a hint of bitterness. His criticism of design competitions was particularly timely.

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

A later news investigation 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 newspaper alleged that Norrman’s plans were handed to Witcover — “a friend of the administration” — who was paid over $10,000 to design nearly identical plans.⁶ Savannah’s city hall was completed in 1906 and is indeed highly similar to Norrman’s design.

Little wonder Norrman was so disparaging of his profession.

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. ↩︎

The Background

As was often the case in his career, in September 1901, G.L. Norrman was compelled to justify his design choices for 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 county officials, some members of the county commission reportedly objected to his proposal to finish the courthouse with stucco.

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

Norman used stucco extensively in his works from the late 1890s and 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.

Of course, Southern politicians couldn’t care less about architecture in Europe or the North, too consumed with playing God in their ugly little backwoods fiefdoms. So Norrman pulled out an old trick that always works on local leaders — 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 in vain — 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. ↩︎