Sam Jones (1847-1906, pictured here1) was a Methodist minister from the backwoods of northwest Georgia who traversed the United States in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, spreading a populist gospel of hellfire and hatred that Americans still devour like manna.
Well-known for his caustic and crude demeanor, Jones was a reformed alcoholic and staunch Prohibitionist who railed against gambling, dancing, theater-going, Europeans, Chinese immigrants, and women doing damn near anything besides dutifully serving their husbands.
Jones once told a crowd at Atlanta’s Trinity Methodist Church: “You old woman at the club meeting while your husband is choking down cold meat at home—there’s a special punishment for you.”2 Charming fellow.
Jones was popular in Atlanta—among a certain element, anyway—and in 1896, he became a regular contributor to The Atlanta Journal, writing weekly diatribes about society, politics, and whatever else drew his ire.
Jones’ Journal articles were written in an exaggerated folksy style that made frequent reference to the Devil and Jones’ cadre of cronies, among them a fellow Methodist minister named George Stuart (1857-1926,34 pictured here5)—always referred to as “Brother Stuart”.
In early 1897, Jones and Brother Stuart held a nearly month-long revival in Boston,678 followed by a week-long engagement in Nashville,9 raking in thousands of souls and plenty of tithes and offerings.
Jones remarked that Boston was “within a half-mile of hell”, leading the New York Sun to quip: “So far away as that?”10
He also publicly rebuked the city’s wicked evil nightlife: “Some of you fellows who go to bed at 9 o’clock don’t know what is going on here in Boston. The devil doesn’t start his procession until 11 o’clock.”11
Meanwhile, the January 27, 1897, issue of The AtlantaJournal published a fawning article in which the reporter interviewed Jones during a “midnight tour” of Boston’s Chinatown with his entourage of men, including Brother Stuart.
The tour concluded with a visit to an “opium joint”, although the reporter was careful to note that Jones and his men were smoking “…not opium, just plain every-day Havana-de-Kentuckio tobacco.”12
During his February 1897 revival in Nashville, Jones wrote to the Journal about the gambling problem in that notoriously sinful city:
“I said, in a sermon a day or two ago that if ten greasy old n*****s were to congregate in a back alley in Nashville and play cards for an old tin syrup pitcher, the police would run them in jail for gambling, and yet, the deacons and stewards and elders with their invited guests play cards for a cut glass vase in their elegant parlors, with the whole list of names published in the papers the next morning, telling who won the vase, and yet, nothing is done.”13
Jones was scheduled for a two-week stint in Atlanta in March 1897,14 and in February 1897, the Journal published a letter from G.L. Norrman sharing his thoughts on the matter.
Witty and urbane, Norrman was Jones’ antithesis: a European immigrant, patron of the theater, and an avowed anti-Prohibitionist.
In this letter are Norrman’s earliest published remarks mocking the business of 19th-century Christianity—a subject he would expound upon in his 1898 pamphlet, Architecture As Illustrative of Religious Belief, in which he revealed himself to be a worshipper of the gods of Old Norse mythology.
Here, Norrman lampooned Jones’ characteristic writing style, throwing in several hick phrases and even mentioning Brother Stuart, although he misspelled his name as “Stewart.”
There’s no question that G.L. Norrman could be harsh and condescending in his criticisms, but dear God, in a circus of such absurdity, someone has to be.
His assessment of Jones didn’t seem to hurt Norrman’s reputation too much, even among Methodists—a few months later, he began designing the new Methodist church in nearby Decatur, Georgia.15
G.L. Norrman. Anderson Memorial Methodist Episcopal Church (1899). Decatur, Georgia.
Norrman’s remarks:
To the Editor of the Journal:
‘The revival of Mr. Sam Jones is billed to be here on March 7th, and will be the greatest attraction of the season. He promises that “it shall be as full of spirit and fight as all his meetings have been.”
‘He says he “will run the black flag against the flesh, the world and the devil.” But the main point of the performance will be to “give the devil a black eye.” And if the devil “winks the other eye,” he will blacken that also.
‘Mr. Jones thinks it would be well for the good people to invite the Lord to help him with his revival, but if the Lord should not accept the invitation, he will beat the devil by himself, with Brother Stewart to help him, and I infer from Mr. Jones’ letter that the devil has a poor show when Brother Stewart is around.
‘According to Mr. Jones’ philosophy, there is a great deal of business and pleasure carried on successfully to which the Lord is very much opposed; from which fact it would seem that the Lord does not cut much of a figure in the world anyway.
‘Mr. Jones is working away very hard at present on the devil’s tail, and he says he is getting along tiptop, only he is afraid he will not finish the job before he has to come here to blacken the devil’s eyes.
‘By the time Mr. Jones gets through with blackening the devil’s eyes and cutting of his tail, the poor devil will be pretty badly used up, so that any ordinary minister can handle him afterwards.
‘The posters necessary to illustrate the show have not been put up yet, except Mr. Jones’ own picture, but no time or attention has been spared to get up the paraphernalia and accessories necessary for a first class revival.
Both the animals and people connected with the show are in good trim and in ecstacies over the prospect of the performance. The “Yaller dog” is wagging his tail, and the “Flop-eared hound” is barking with joy.
‘The “Dude” is happy and is strutting about with the air of a peacock, and the “Dudine” is chipper as a cricket. The “Tough barroom bum” got on a spree at the last revival and has not sobered up yet, but his good and dutiful wife is bathing his head, so it is hoped he will be in proper trim by next month.
‘The tough “Bum preacher” is in good condition. Both the “Soulsaving business” and the horse-swapping business have been profitable, so his folks are all having a high old time.
‘Prof. Excell has a new band wagon and his two lady assistants are too lovely for anything, and are tuning up like nightingales. In fact nothing has been spared to make the revival a success, so I feel justified in vouching for Mr. Jones’ promise to give sin and sinners an interesting time.’
G.L. Norrman. Projected design for Fulton County Jail (1892). Atlanta.1
The Background
Following the publication of G.L. Norrman‘s previous letter criticizing plans for a “model jail”, TheAtlanta Journal solicited a response from Forrest Adair of the Fulton County Commission.
“I have not read Mr. Norrman’s card and do not intend to,” Adair claimed, adding: “The plans are not submitted for his approval and it is not desired.”
Adair referenced Norrman’s harsh criticism of the Boys High School designs by Golucke & Stewart, and noted that Norrman was “very caustic in his criticism” of Bradford L. Gilbert, another sham architect who designed the Cotton States Exposition and English-American Building in Atlanta.
“I do not suppose Mr. Gilbert is losing any sleep over it”, Adair remarked, concluding that: “It seems to be a habit of Mr. Norrman’s and I do not see that we need to worry about his criticism in this case.”2
In response, Norrman wrote another letter to the Journal, published on November 24, 1896, in an article titled “The Lively Jail Question.”
Here, Norrman admitted to his remarks about Gilbert and alluded to his precarious financial state at the time, mentioning, almost offhandedly, that some of his property was being sold for taxes.
Indeed, Atlanta and the Southeast were in the throes of the Panic of 1896, and an undeveloped lot that Norrman had previously purchased in Inman Park was sold by the city marshal that same month for delinquent taxes.3
“There are a great many beside myself in that fix”, Norrman stated, and he wasn’t wrong: a listing of properties sold for taxes in November 1896 spanned 11 pages in the Journal.4
Norrman mocked Adair as “the supreme and mighty ruler of the county” and insinuated that his future political chances might be in jeopardy, but Adair—one of the wealthiest and most influential men in Atlanta’s history—was re-elected to the county commission the following year.
Wilkins’ jail was completed in October 1898 after multiple delays,5678 with a total construction cost of $183,038.32.9 Jail officials began immediately complaining about its poor design and shoddy construction quality, and just weeks after opening, four prisoners escaped from the structure.1011
Adair and the county commissioners blamed the jailbreak on the sheriff, John W. Nelms, who, in turn, blamed the jail’s design, noting that there had never been an escape from the old facility.
“The jail is built something on the order of a hotel”, Nelms complained to The Atlanta Journal. “It is scattered over a large area, and in such a way that even with a guard to work every floor there is time for prisoners to work.”12
Needless to say, Norrman’s objections were valid.
Norrman’s remarks:
To the Editor ofThe Journal.
“My business is not only that of an architect, but also that of an architectural critic, and I am so taken and accepted by all thorough and regularly educated architects, as well as by people of culture in general.
“Besides the criticism which Mr. Adair refers to, I have written many others. Sometimes I write because I am paid for it, sometimes because I think it will be interesting to my profession to know what is going on, sometimes I write because it is interesting to myself.
“My reason for writing a description of “A Model Jail” in Saturday’s Journal was the very apathy which Mr. Adair speaks of, from which I think that he and everyone connected with the erection of the new jail should be aroused.
“For a set of men who are entrusted with public funds to spend them so recklessly and carelessly, even if there is no individual gain at the bottom of it, and “lose no sleep over the matter” is not fair to the taxpayers of the county. Those whose property is being sold for taxes, and there are a great many beside myself in that fix, lose a great deal of sleep over the matter.
“I know perfectly well that Mr. Adair is the supreme and mighty ruler of the county, and there is no way of stopping the erection of such an expensive monstrosity as the “Model Jail,” unless the grand jury takes a hand in the matter (in which case Mr. Wilkins will have no “merit” to stand on).
“While Mr. Adair is not losing any sleep over the matter now, he may when the next election comes round, and I think that the people who are sold out for taxes will be awake also.
“Those who are not familiar with architecture could not possibly know how badly they are taken in unless their attention is called to it by some architect, so I hope you will pardon me for taking up so much of your valuable space about this matter.”
Grant Wilkins. Projected design forFulton County Jail (1898). Illustration by Gate City Engraving Co.1
G.L. Norrman‘s string of public disputes continued in 1896, when the Fulton County Commission in Atlanta sought to build a new county jail, engaging in an overly long, convoluted selection process that was rife with corruption and cronyism.
Norrman’s history with the project began in 1892, when the commission asked him to draw plans for the renovation and expansion of the existing jail,23 dropping the idea within a matter of weeks when neighboring residents petitioned for the facility to be relocated to another part of the city.4567
The old jail, overcrowded and in severe disrepair, was still in use in April 1896, when the county commission requested plans for a new jail designed by Grant Wilkins,8 a local engineer who also billed himself as an architect. Wilkins was a favorite of the Atlanta political machine and a thoroughly incompetent designer.
Wilkins’ first plans for the jail were scrapped when the commission decided to change the location of the new facility,910 holding an open competition in May 1896 for “a modern and model prison”,11 in which five architects—Norrman was not one of them—submitted plans,12 with Wilkins acting as an “adviser”.13
Norrman refused to submit plans for the competition because the commission decided that Wilkins would act as supervising architect for the project regardless of the designer, and Norrman wanted to supervise the building’s construction himself.14
The committee’s appointment of Wilkins as superintendent was protested by an anonymous architect in the May 1896 edition of The Southern Architect. Let’s be honest—it was probably Norrman:
“The circular calling for models and plans for the Fulton county jail, is an insult to the architectural profession, and no architect who has any respect for himself or his profession could enter the competition, as every architect who feels any interest in his work, from an artistic standpoint, independent of the fee, will demand control of the superintendent instead of the superintendent controlling the architect. In fact, no satisfactory building could be put up in any other way. But it is a big lift to the jail builders, who consider the matter solely from a money-making or business standpoint, and all of whom will no doubt submit plans for model jails.”
A second letter by “another architect” appeared in the same issue of the journal, mocking the Fulton County Commission and the “model jail,” pejoratively repeating the phrase 15 times—that was definitely Norrman:
“The new Fulton County jail will be a model jail; there is no doubt about it. The Commissioners have spared neither time nor expense to the county to make it a model jail. To be certain, when the jail is built, that will be a model jail, a few of the Commissioners took a trip around the country, examining all the principal jails, and to be sure that nothing would interfere with their mental and physical condition, they had a physician and a dentist along with them.
“When a building committee wants a model jail, and travels around the country at the county’s expense to select one, it is necessary that all the members should be in good health. If any of them should be taken with the colic or toothache, his mind would be so distracted that he couldn’t tell a model jail from any other jail, and the county would have spent the money for nothing; but, as every precaution was taken to insure a safe and healthy journey, the money was well spent, and the Commissioners were very much edified about modern jails.
“The trip was worth the money on account of the moral influence alone, especially the visit to the New Orleans jail, which is a model jail, as is shown by the fact that the Commissioners who concocted the job for building the jail were the first to occupy it!
“Another circumstance to assure the people of Fulton county that they will have a model jail is the knowledge and wisdom of the Commissioners. The chairman and superintendent know all about model jails, so if there is any architect who wishes to design a model jail, all that he has to do is apply to these gentlemen for information, and they can tell all about a model jail.
“The chairman has made a wonderful success of the real estate business, and any one who can make a success of the real estate business in such hard times as these is sure to know all about model jails. The superintendent has never had any training or experience of any description, but the Commissioners think that he has a wonderful talent for making model jails. In fact, he has already made a plan for a model jail, but a man with such a remarkable aptitude for making model jails could not be expected to give his knowledge away for nothing, and some slight modifications may be advisable after the competition comes off.
“In view of these facts, and with both the Journal and Constitution to back us in our judgment, we feel that Fulton county is sure to have a model jail.”
It appears that the open competition was simply for show, as the commission suddenly decided that the jail could cost no more than $150,000—an impossibly low sum—and rejected each of the submitted plans for being too expensive to build, requesting that the designers modify them.1718
When the architects resubmitted their cheaper plans, the commission rejected them again,1920 and handed the design contract back to Wilkins, suddenly increasing the projected budget to $175,000.2122 Cunning, no?
In June 1896, Norrman informally presented his own plans to C.A. Collier, chairman of the Fulton County Commission, stating that they could be built for less than $150,000.
In July 1896, Norrman and four other local architects—including his rivals Golucke & Stewart—jointly submitted a formal protest against the commission for its selection of Wilkins,23 with allegations that his hiring was “…the result of a scheme made by certain members of the board.”24Ya think?
Norrman requested that the commission reopen the competition, but the motion was voted down.25
In September 1896, Wilkins completed his plans for the “model jail”,26 with the winning construction bid totaling nearly $170,000.27 The plans were available for public inspection, and Norrman obviously had a good look at them.
The November 21, 1896, issue of The Atlanta Journal published the following letter from Norrman, in which he gave a thorough and scathing analysis of Wilkins’ design, repeatedly mocking the “model jail” (he again used the phrase 15 times).
Norrman’s remarks:
To the Editor ofThe Journal:
“I have just seen the drawings of “A Model Jail” and of all the curious structures that I have ever seen, “A Model Jail” is the most curious. When I first saw the name I thought it was a hoax gotten up by some charlatan to advertise himself, but when I heard that the chairman of the building committee of the proposed jail, the superintendent, a doctor, a lawyer, and a dentist, all of them honorable men, and good Christian gentlemen (in fact, we have none but Christian gentlemen in this country and in Europe, except some Jewish gentlemen, and in Turkey, where there are some Mohammedan gentlemen) had really started out to hunt “A Model Jail”.
I was sure that there must be something of that sort somewhere, only I had never heard of it, or else, that it was a practical joke, gotten up by some wag, who thought that it was too old a gag to take them out snipe-hunting, as they may have caught on to the joke, or he may have thought it too cruel a trick to get off on anybody, as in snipe-hunting the parties who do the hunting have to hold the bag, and in hunting “A Model Jail” the public have to hold it.
But sure enough they found “A Model Jail,” and on their return were prepared to tell any architect who wished to design “A Model Jail” all about it.
The description was somewhat obscure as to the appointments of “A Model Jail,” but what was particularly required in “A Model Jail,” besides the cells, is reception rooms, vestibules, reception hall, and all sorts of halls, and that is what we are really going to have. In fact, we are going to have more halls than anything else. Two-thirds of the building is nothing but halls. We are going to have front halls, and back halls, side halls, zig-zag halls, up-and-down halls, dark halls, light halls, ventilated halls, and unventilated halls, and a very large haul on the public exchequer.
As I said before, “A Model Jail” is a curious structure. Its appearance is somewhat in the style of a Mosque, with the crescents left off of the top of the minarets. It has some appointments that are necessary in a jail, some that are not unnecessary, and some necessary appointments it has not at all, but it has a perfect labyrinth of halls arranged somewhat on the plan of the Catacombs, but I think that when the attendants get accustomed to the building, they will find their way to each compartment without a guide.
I know that it is considered in bad taste for an architect to express himself about any building, and that it is rank heresy for anybody to doubt the competency of a building committee to judge not only of “A Model Jail,” but of a courthouse, or any other building for which they are appointed. One might as well doubt the competency of Sir Joseph to rule the Queen’s navy after scrubbing the front door knobs so successfully, as to doubt the competency of a building committee to judge of architecture, where each and every one has made a success of the cotton business, law business, reforming business, philanthropy business, or any other business. (This is an age of business.) So I do not for a moment mean to criticize the building committee: I simply think that the public may be interested in knowing that “A Model Jail” is one of the most unique buildings in this or any other country.
As there has been some talk to the effect that Mr. Wilkins, who was the expert at the recent competition for the new jail, had possibly gotten his idea from the architects who submitted plans, I would state that, in my opinion, he has not. I think that his plans for “A Model Jail” are entirely original, unless they were suggested by some one who was interested in giving the county the least room for the most money.
If the designs had been taken from an architect’s plans, the appointments of the hospital in the jail would have been entirely different. Baths and lavatories would have been provided for each ward, and appointments would have been made for nurses and a dispensary, rooms would have been provided for a matron and her help. There would very likely have been appointments made for persons who were detained without being strictly criminals.
If an architect had designed the building, the specifications would have been definite. As it is there are about fifty places in which the materials are to be approved by the superintendent without it being definitely stated what they are to be.
This, however, may be premeditated, as there are so many places in which expensive material is specified, which are handled only by persons who own the patents, and on which there could be no competition, but which could be easily substituted with an advantage to the building and a saving of about $50,000 (if the right man got the job), by substituting such material as is made by many firms.
It may be possible that the letting of the construction of the building will be carried on in the same spirit in which the architectural competition was carried on, and in that case the specification as it stands is a model document.
It may be remembered that the plans which were submitted by the architects in the so-called competition had four hundred cells, as was then required, and would have cost $150,000 to $300,000, while the proposed “Model Jail” has only one hundred and ninety cells all told, and the bids are likely to run from $200,000 to $300,000.
I doubt if any bids will come inside of $200,000 unless the building is unloaded from material on which there is a monopoly.
But even at this figure, there is considerable of a discrepancy between the cost of a jail designed by an architect and “A Model Jail” with all its hallways.
This, I think, will prove that any suggestion that Mr. Wilkins has taken his idea for “A Model Jail” from an architect is entirely without foundation.
Long an artful dodger when it came to details of his personal life, here, G.L. Norrman wrote his own autobiographical sketch while essentially saying nothing at all.
“I was born in Sweden in about the same manner as all other Swedes. Nothing of any note happened at the event. Everything went along in much the same manner as the day before.
“The only sensation that my coming into this world created was a little stir among some old aunts and other lady friends of the family, who found it difficult to decide whom I looked like, but they finally came to the conclusion that I resembled my great-grandmother. I suppose that they came to this decision on account of my being bald-headed, wrinkled in the face, and of a very unsettled disposition.
“A very charming young lady solicited my picture for this volume, and assured me that it would be a most excellent means for securing business, and she told me that the public was not only interested in my appearance, but was greatly interested in knowing all about me, and the publishers were interested fifteen dollars’ worth. So, in giving an account of myself, I thought I would be very explicit, and would begin with the beginning.
“Nothing of any moment has occurred since. I have been engaged in my profession for many years. I hope that the public will pardon me for not stating how long, as I am still a bachelor, and hope that if my picture does not bring me any business it will call the young ladies’ attention to the opportunity of securing a most exemplary husband, and if they knew how long I had been in business they might not be so greatly interested.
“At any rate, I have been in business long enough to have had considerable experience, and if anyone is interested in one way or another, let me know, and I’ll give a more detailed account of myself.”
G.L. Norrman (attributed). C. D. Hurt Residence (1893). Inman Park, Atlanta.
Hiding in plain sight in Atlanta’s Inman Park, the C. D. Hurt Residence isn’t conspicuous, and it doesn’t seem especially significant compared to the neighborhood’s showier mansions.
Located at 36 Delta Place NE, this rambling two-story home is primarily Colonial Revival in style, with wood shingles, steep gables, an overhanging second floor, and an assortment of oddly shaped windows that recall the vernacular designs of coastal New England architecture.
It’s good to have a little doubt when attributing buildings to architects, but in this case, there’s no need: the home can be indisputably credited to G.L. Norrman.
Location of C.D. Hurt Residence
Often erroneously dated to 1891 or 1892, the house was built in 1893, as reported in an April 1893 article in The Atlanta Constitution1 and another in May 1893 in The Atlanta Journal2—both stated that the home was then in the course of construction.
Dr. Charles D. Hurt (1843-19063) was the older brother of Joel Hurt, president of the East Atlanta Land Company, which initially owned and developed the Inman Park suburb.
Norrman appears to have been Joel Hurt’s preferred architect at the time, completing as many as eight projects for his companies in the late 1880s and early 1890s, making him an obvious choice to design the home.
G.L. Norrman (attributed). C. D. Hurt Residence (1893). Inman Park, Atlanta.
The Design
Beyond circumstantial evidence, the Hurt Residence can be handily attributed to Norrman based on specific elements that it shares with two homes designed by his firm in the same period: the R.O. Barksdale Residence (1893) in Washington, Georgia, which survives, and the Paul Romare Residence in Atlanta (1892, demolished).
Similarities between the Hurt Residence and the Barksdale Residence:
The facades of both houses feature a prominent bay with two second-floor windows and a Palladian window on the first floor, both topped by a hip roof.
Both houses share the same chimney designs, slightly tapered at the top, with distinctive dentilled string courses.
Both houses originally featured a tall, exposed chimney on the front porch as a central focal point.
Both houses include porches with dentilled cornices and Norrman’s trademark Tuscan columns.
G.L. Norrman. Paul Romare Residence (1893, demolished). Atlanta. Illustration by W.L. Stoddart.
Similarities between the Hurt Residence and the Romare Residence:
Both houses were topped with a steeply pitched hip roof.
Both houses included an oval window, also featured in Norrman’s design for the Thomas W. Latham Residence in Inman Park.
Both houses included an exposed chimney as a focal point, each embedded with the same classically styled niche (illustrated below)
Similarities between the Hurt Residence and other Norrman projects:
The Hurt Residence’s shed dormer windows are of the same designas those on theEdward C. Peters Residence (1883) in Atlanta, a confirmed Norrman work, and the Atlanta & Edgewood Street Railway Shed (1889), also located in Inman Park and attributed to Norrman.
The Hurt Residence’s second-floor bay window is the same one used in the Atlanta & Edgewood Railway Shed, attributed to Norrman.
G.L. Norrman. Chimney niche on the C. D. Hurt Residence, Atlanta
A Design Evolution
While fairly unremarkable in appearance, the Hurt Residence represents a major shift in Norrman’s residential designs.
In the 1880s and early 1890s, many of his larger home plans included a rear service wing that contained the kitchen and servants’ quarters—a prime example is the W.W. Duncan Residence in Spartanburg, South Carolina (1886, pictured below).
The service wing was visually distinct from the main house andwas often capped with a low-slung hip roof, denoting its modest, utilitarian status.
G.L. Norrman. Service wing on the W.W. Duncan Residence (1886). Spartanburg, South Carolina.
For the Hurt Residence, the hip-roofed wing moved from the back to the front, the first time this appears to have been implemented in one of Norrman’s plans.
That was a bold choice, marking Norrman’s initial departure from the lofty styles of the 1880s and early 1890s toward the less pretentious, more unassuming residential designs that took hold from the mid-1890s onwards.
Norrman subsequently repeated and refined the Hurt design many times over the next several years. Prime examples are Atlanta’s W.L. Reynolds Residence (1897, pictured below) and the Leon D. Lewman Residence (1901, demolished, pictured below).
Later versions made complete use of low-slung rooflines, but in the Hurt Residence, Norrman still designed an absurdly high central roof—a lingering remnant from his 1880s work.
G.L. Norrman. W.L. Reynolds Residence (1897, altered). Midtown, Atlanta. G.L. Norrman. Leon D. Lewman Residence (1901, demolished). Atlanta.4
The Hurt Residence’s 13-room floor plan also appears to have evolved from the plan used in Norrman’s design for the John T. Taylor Residence (1892) in Americus, Georgia.
Based on a simple four-square grid, the plan for the Taylor Residence placed the stair hall in the lower left quadrant.
In the Hurt Residence, the stair hall had to be pushed back to accommodate the projecting wing.
Otherwise, the plans for the two houses are largely identical, right down to the separate exterior entrance in their first-floor bedrooms.
Exterior entrance to the first-floor bedroom of the C.D. Hurt Residence, Atlanta
A Question of Credit
I suspect much of the Hurt Residence was designed by one or more of Norrman’s employees, possibly C. Walter Smith, Norrman’s longtime draughtsman and later chief assistant.
Smith began working for Norrman in 1887, serving as a draughtsman for over five years before leaving to start his own practice in March 1893.5
Within a year, Smith returned to Norrman’s firm to work as his chief assistant,6 but left to start his business again in April 1896,7 working independently until 1907.
Based on his few surviving works, Smith wasn’t an exceptional designer in his own right: he clearly lacked whatever combination of ingredients made Norman such an outstanding architect.
However, it appears that Norrman likely delegated many of his residential projects to Walter Smithin the 1890s.
The Constitution all but said as much in 1896, when Smith embarked on his second solo attempt:
“The work that he did even before he branched out for himself had gained for him a distinction that few people have won in a lifetime,” the newspaper noted. “Mr. Smith has designed and superintended the construction of many of the most elegant residences in the city…”8
If you compare a typical Norrman residence from the 1880s to one from the 1890s, it’s clear that the latter projects didn’t receive nearly as much of his attention.
Norrman’s career reached its commercial and creative peak between 1890 and 1893, and he increasingly spent much of his time traveling by train across the Southeastern United States, securing commissions and attending to building projects.
With a packed schedule and an office full of assistants, Norrman likely began focusing most of his attention on large-scale or prestige commissions: the Windsor Hotel (1892) in Americus, Georgia, for instance, or the J.C. Simonds Residence (1893) in Charleston, South Carolina.
G.L. Norrman. J.C. Simonds Residence (1893). Charleston, South Carolina.
Because Walter Smith left to form his practice while the Hurt Residence was under construction, it’s also possible that he started the project and another assistant completed it, which could explain the uneven design.
W.L. Stoddart, for instance, was also employed by Norrman in 1893, still fresh from his training at Columbia University. When Norrman hired him in March 1892, the Journal claimed Stoddart would be his chief assistant,9 although he was listed as a draughtsman in city directories.10
Every architect’s approach is different, but Norrman may have roughed out the preliminary plans for the project, leaving a draughtsman or assistant to fill in the details, while lending just enough of his finesse to claim the design as his own.
The Hurt Residence’s north elevation also bears a striking resemblance to the side of the William Merritt Chase Homestead in New York, designed by McKim, Mead & White in 1892.
Norrman frequently borrowed from the firm’s designs, and if he was pressed for time or lacking inspiration, he might have reproduced what he saw in a photograph or drawing of the home.
North elevation of the C. D. Hurt Residence, Atlanta
A Messy Composition
If Norrman didn’t give the Hurt Residence’s design much scrutiny, that might explain its frankly sloppy configuration: the three bay windows of different sizes on the north elevation, for example, or the hodgepodge of elements borrowed from other projects.
Part of the home’s imbalance can be explained by its vernacular inspiration, but that doesn’t excuse its incoherent composition.
Stand on one side of the Hurt Residence, and it looks like a completely different home from the other side. The design feels clunky, slapdash, and pure kitchen sink, as if everything but was thrown into it.
Norrman also disliked the then-fashionable Colonial style, stating in 1890 that it had “at best, a number of absurdities”, and that “there are few who carry the style out well”.
As a designer who excelled in the Romanesque and preferred the classical, Norrman may have been admitting to his own lack of proficiency in the style.
Despite the Hurt Residence’s shortcomings, it’s entirely characteristic of Norrman’s 1893 residential designs, which stand out in his oeuvre as especially freewheeling and audacious. He was the most celebrated and sought-after architect in the Southeast at that point, and clearly felt emboldened to take risks.
When the risk-taking worked, the results were spectacular, as seen in the Simonds Residence. When it didn’t? Well, you can see the results here.
Shed dormer on the C.D. Hurt Residence, Atlanta
Construction and History
The Hurt Residence’s history is as messy as its design, chock-full of the sort of macabre and pathetic tales one expects from an Atlanta home.
A Whole Lotta Hurt
C. D. Hurt (pictured here11) and his family moved to the city from Columbus, Georgia, in October 1892.12
13 Until their own “elegant and roomy residence”14 was completed, the Hurts temporarily lived in the spec house at 56 Euclid Avenue15 (now 882 Euclid Avenue NE), which Norrman designed for the East Atlanta Land Company in 1890.
While Hurt’s home was still being built in April 1893, it was also the site of a wedding for his niece, Lucy Hurt McTyere.16
Hurt had five children with his wife, Mary, although it appears only his daughters, Louise and Maude, were living with them in 1893, when he was 50, and she was 46.
Hurt worked as a medical surgeon and opened an office in Atlanta’s Equitable Building,17 which his brother owned. He was also on the payroll of his brother’s street railway company as a “medical advisor”—with whatever legitimate duties that must have entailed —in addition to being a staff member at Grady Memorial Hospital and the Atlanta School of Medicine.1819
There have been claims that Hurt operated his office from his home, but that appears to be inaccurate based on city directories and newspaper reports.
Hurt’s daughter, Louise, married in January 1895, and the reception was held at the Hurt Residence.2021 Assuming it was a happy occasion, the wedding was a singular bright spot preceding a long line of tragedies in the home:
On July 5, 1896, Hurt’s eight-month-old grandson, Charles, died in the home after a bout with malaria.22
On July 19, 1898, Hurt’s youngest daughter, Maude, died in the home at 6:45 p.m., following a 10-day illness.23 Only 17 years old, Maude’s death was described by the Constitution as “one of the saddest deaths that have clouded this city in years…”24
In September 1899, Charles and Joel Hurt’s brother, E.F. Hurt, died on an extended visit from New York, and his funeral was held in the Hurt Residence.25
Following a two-year illness, Mary Hurt died on October 22, 1902, “when death crept softly into the home,” according to the Journal. 2627 Poetic, no?
Wasting little time, C.D. Hurt married his second wife, AnnieLouiseMiller, in Hendersonville, North Carolina, on October 6, 1903. Annie was described as an “accomplished and attractive young woman,” 28 and the couple had an unnamed infant son when Hurt himself died in the home on August 12, 1906, following an eight-month illness.2930
After collecting on Hurt’s $15,000 life insurance policy,31 his accomplished and attractive young wife seemingly disappeared from Atlanta, and the home was presumably sold, ending the Hurts’ 13-year run of the house.
Oval window on the east facade of the C.D. Hurt Residence, Atlanta
Dwindling Fortunes
With the United States emerging from a years-long financial depression at the turn of the 20th century, the ostentatious Inman Park residences designed by Norrman and other architects in the late 1880s and early 1890s were already relics of another era.
Never the prestigious enclave Joel Hurt intended it to be, Inman Park had become thoroughly passe, and many of its first homes spent their early years either vacant or on the market—scan newspaper classified ads from the 1890s, and you’ll consistently find listings for “good as new” Inman Park homes for sale or rent, often at reduced prices.
In the early 1900s, most of Atlanta’s prominent citizens continued to build their homes on Peachtree Street, two miles west of Inman Park, migrating further north toward Buckhead each year.
Ansley Park quickly became a fashionable new residential section, largely because of its close proximity to Peachtree Street, but its homes were much more modest in appearance than the gaudy Gilded Age mansions of the previous century.
The East Atlanta Land Company auctioned off Inman Park’s remaining lots en masse in 1904,32 and the neighborhood was filled out with mostly smaller, cheaper houses over the next decade.
As the Journal noted in 1908: “The Inman Park of the present time…has almost forgotten the story of its origin—which now seems like ancient history…”33
Second-floor bay window on the north elevation of the C.D. Hurt Residence, Atlanta
Life As a Boarding House
The large, antiquated Inman Park houses were really only viable as rental properties, so it’s no surprise that in December 1907, newspaper classifieds began requesting boarders for the former Hurt Residence. Terse but descriptive, the first ads touted: “Beautiful views, splendid board, country air, not far out.”34
A January 1908 ad sought “Two or three young men for large front room; also couple for beautiful room,”35 while an October 1908 ad noted the home’s “Suite beautiful rooms, with private bath…”36
In November 1908, ads described “Four connecting rooms, unfurnished…private entrance”,37 which likely referred to the home’s original master bedroom.
In 1909, the entire house was listed for rent by Edwin P. Ansley‘s real estate agency for $50 a month.38
On March 25, 1909, a 68 mph “hurricane” ripped across Atlanta, cutting a path from West End through Downtown to Inman Park. In a lengthy list of damaged buildings, the Journal reported that “In Inman Park at Edgewood avenue and Delta Place a chimney was blown down.”39
This may have been the tall chimney at the front of the house, which was removed at some point in the structure’s history. A photograph from the 1970s shows that a chunk of one chimney stack was also missing, possibly a result of the same storm.
Chimney and shed dormer on the C.D. Hurt Residence, Atlanta
In February 1910, the home was owned by C. Horace McCall when a “daring porch climber” broke the window of a second-floor bathroom.
“Mrs. Turner“, apparently a boarder in the house, screamed upon hearing the shattered window, scaring off the intruder. The Constitution noted ominously that “A dark shadow was seen in the distance…but no clews [sic] were obtained.”
The report added: “This section of the city has been infested with burglars recently, and several citizens have made complaint of inadequate police protection.”40
In July 1918, McCall and his wife still lived in the home when thieves robbed their backyard henhouse, swiping their entire collection, including 20 “frying-size chickens”. The stolen property totaled $30.41
Mrs. McCall died in the house on February 28, 1923,42 and it appears the property was sold shortly thereafter. In July 1924, another infant died in the home: the son of two boarders, Mr. and Mrs. J.B. McMillam.
Bay windows on the north elevation of the C.D. Hurt Residence, Atlanta
By the 1920s, Atlanta had grown rapidly beyond Inman Park’s borders, and the former suburb was fully absorbed into the city.
One mile northeast of the neighborhood, Druid Hills opened in 1908 (Norrman designed its first home), and many of Inman Park’s prominent residents—notably members of the Candler family— migrated to the outlying development for the next several years.
As Inman Park fell into a decades-long decline, the old Hurt Residence passed through a succession of owners, always operating as a boarding house, and apparently attracting the caliber of people one associates with such establishments.
A few incidents from those years are intriguing:
In 1925, the house was owned by the estate of the late John W. White when a 36-year-old boarder, Mrs. W.T. Hooks, was arrested for attempted arson. On May 4 of that year, fire crews were called to the home at 4 a.m., where they found a burning pile of kindling wood in Hooks’ closet, with Hooks “fully dressed and all her trunks completely packed”. The state accused Hooks of attempting to burn down the home for insurance money, but she was acquitted of the charges in June 1925.4344454647
In 1929, a 31-year-old occupant of the home named T.M. Bates was treated at Grady Memorial Hospital for wounds received from a “vicious rat” that reportedly bit Bates twice as he was going to sleep, after which he “jumped on top of a dresser to escape further injury”.48
In January 1931, Fanny Jolly operated the boarding house when “the careless handling of an oil lamp” sparked a fire in the kitchen, forcing the home’s 11 occupants to “flee in their night clothing”. One boarder was knocked unconscious when he jumped 15 feet from his second-story window, while another received severe cuts on his legs from crawling out a different window.4950
In 1945, W.A. and Gertrude Croft bought the home from Harry Beerman.51 Real estate ads described the home as an “excellent rooming house” and “convenient to stores and cars”, concluding rather cynically that “This is a money-maker”.52
This may have been when the home received its most significant alterations. In August 1946, classified ads from the address listed a “Monarch coal cook stove, gas cook stove…2 practically new glass paneled doors, 2 used windows” for sale.53
Sounds like they were tearing up the place, doesn’t it?
An image from the 1970s (pictured below) shows that at some point, the home’s front porch was partially filled in and screened, rooms were clumsily added to the porch roof, and original windows were moved and replaced. I suspect those alterations were the work of the Crofts.
It was also in the 1970s when Inman Park entered the nascent stages of a rebirth as young professionals began restoring its homes and joined forces to quash a proposed freeway that would have cut through the heart of the neighborhood.
Inman Park had been notoriously run-down and crime-ridden for decades, though, and its transformation was hardly a foregone conclusion. Even as late as 1975, the Constitution claimed that “most people avoided” the area.55
A skeptical article from 1971 described Inman Park as “a festering little carbuncle on the hide of big old Atlanta”, with residents detailing its precarious condition. One homeowner stated:
“If you’ve got a sense of humor, it’s a great place to live. Over here, when people shoot guns they usually aim into the ceiling. There’s a lot of drug traffic in the neighborhood with the kids. They are very wise, like New York street children. I took one little girl to Grady while she was on a bad LSD trip. She was in the middle of the street screaming and everybody else was afraid to do anything. Hard drugs are apparently very available.”56
Little wonder that the old Hurt Residence remained a target for crime—in January 1975, the home was burglarized again, with the thief swiping a tape recorder, clock, liquor, and 8 cartons of cigarettes.57
In August 1976, a 47-year-old boarder at the address committed suicide in the most Atlanta way possible: jumping from the top of the Hyatt Regency atrium.58
Palladian window on the C.D. Hurt Residence, Atlanta
Return to Form
In 1981, the home was listed for sale again and remained on the market for nearly two years under two different agencies.
A succession of advertisements sounded increasingly desperate, first promoting the house as “Single family OR townhouse. Partially restored. Clean & livable” with “POOL & wine cellar”. 59 Later ads touted the home’s “suburban amenities.”60
An ad for an open house breathlessly hyped: “13 Fireplaces, antique brass & beveled glass, arches, millwork & pocket doors!”61 Norrman always did like pocket doors.
A May 1982 ad claimed that “Practical people will love the close-in convenient location and the fact that it can be used for rental units.”62
That was oddly out of step with the changing character of the neighborhood, however—it wasn’t practical people who were buying in Inman Park at that point, but those invested in its resurgent vision.
Chimney on the C.D. Hurt Residence, Atlanta
By the 1990s, Inman Park had completed a dramatic revitalization that drew national acclaim, and the Hurt Residence finally returned to its intended use as a private dwelling.
The home has been fully renovated, with the mid-20th-century accretions on the front removed and the porch and facade restored to a reasonable facsimile of their original appearance.
Inman Park is now one of the most exclusive and desirable neighborhoods in intown Atlanta, with homes like the Hurt Residence valued in the millions. More than a century after its conception, Joel Hurt’s development is finally a success.
And as for his brother’s home—well, it’s more significant than it initially seems.
C.D. Hurt Residence, Atlanta
References
“City Notes.” The Atlanta Constitution, April 2, 1893, p. 23. ↩︎
“Flowers Are A-Blooming.” The Atlanta Journal, May 5, 1893, p. 3. ↩︎
“Dr. C.D. Hurt Dead: Ill 8 Months”. The Atlanta Journal, August 13, 1906, p. 5. ↩︎
“New Lewman Residence On Peachtree Place.” The Atlanta Constitution, October 6, 1901, p. 5. ↩︎
“A Card”. The Atlanta Constitution, March 1, 1893, p. 10. ↩︎
“Dr. Chas. Hurt Yields to Death”. The Atlanta Constitution, August 13, 1906, p. 1. ↩︎
“Dr. C.D. Hurt Dead: Ill 8 Months”. The Atlanta Journal, August 13, 1906, p. 5. ↩︎
“Carlton-Hurt” The Atlanta Constitution, February 15, 1895, p. 3. ↩︎
“Today’s Talk in Society”. The Atlanta Journal, January 23, 1895, p. 7. ↩︎
“Little Child’s Death.” The Atlanta Journal, July 6, 1897, p. 5. ↩︎
“Death of Miss Hurt.” The Atlanta Constitution. July 20, 1898, p. 55. ↩︎
“In Memory of Miss Mary Maude Hurt.” The Atlanta Constitution, July 24, 1898, p. 15. ↩︎
“Death Has Come to Mr. E.F. Hurt”. The Atlanta Journal, September 18, 1899, p. 3. ↩︎
“Mrs. Mary Hurt Is Dead After Years of Illness”. The Atlanta Journal, October 23, 1902, p. 7. ↩︎
“Miss Mary Hurt Is Dead After Long Illness”. The Atlanta Journal, October 22, 1902, p. 8. ↩︎
“Miss Miller of N.C. Weds Dr. C.D. Hurt.” The Atlanta Journal, October 6, 1903, p. 10. ↩︎
“Dr. Chas. Hurt Yields to Death”. The Atlanta Constitution, August 13, 1906, p. 1. ↩︎
“Dr. C.D. Hurt Dead; Ill 8 Months”. The Atlanta Journal, August 13, 1906, p. 5. ↩︎
“Wil [sic] of Dr. Hurt Has Been Probated”. The Atlanta Journal, August 16, 1906, p. 5. ↩︎
“Big Auction Sale May 31.” The Atlanta Constitution, May 22, 1904, p. 8. ↩︎
“Inman Park, Atlanta’s First Suburb, Has Developed Into One of the City’s Most Beautiful Resident Sections”. The Atlanta Journal, April 26, 1908, p. H5. ↩︎
“Wanted–Boarders.” The Atlanta Constitution, December 8, 1907, p. 3D. ↩︎
“Wanted–Boarders.” The Atlanta Constitution, January 5, 1908, p. 4. ↩︎
“Wanted–Boarders.” The Atlanta Constitution, October 1, 1908, p. 10. ↩︎
“For Rent–Rooms”. The Atlanta Journal, November 8, 1908, p. H9. ↩︎
“For Rent by Edwin P. Ansley”. The Atlanta Constitution, March 14, 1909, p. 3. ↩︎
“Scenes of Havoc Wrought By Last Night’s Wind”. The Atlanta Journal, March 25, 1909, p. 1. ↩︎
“Burglar Visits Inman Park Home”. The Atlanta Constitution, February 7, 1910, p. 7. ↩︎
“C.H. McCall’s Chickens Are Taken By Thieves”. The Atlanta Journal, July 2, 1918, p. 12. ↩︎
“Mortuary”. The Atlanta Constitution, March 1, 1923, p. 24. ↩︎
“Woman Is Indicted On Arson Charges After Fire in Atlanta”. The Atlanta Journal, June 5, 1925, p. 36. ↩︎
“Arson Is Charged To Mrs. W.T. Hooks In Indictment”. The Atlanta Constitution, June 6, 1925, p. 7. ↩︎
“Woman’s Trial Begins In Superior Court On Charge of Arson.” The Atlanta Journal, June 25, 1925, p. 5. ↩︎
“Woman Is Freed On Arson Charge In Fulton Court”. The Atlanta Constitution, June 26, 1925, p. 3. ↩︎
“Woman Is Acquitted On Charge of Setting Fire to House Here”. The Atlanta Journal, June 26, 1925, p. 20. ↩︎
“Atlantian Scales Dresser To Escape Vicious Rat”. The Atlanta Journal, September 9, 1929, p. 4. ↩︎
“11 Persons Escape, Two Are Injured As House Burns”. The Atlanta Journal, January 7, 1931, p. 14. ↩︎
“Two Injured in Fire, Eleven Flee Building”. The Atlanta Constitution, January 8, 1931, p. 6. ↩︎
“Adams-Cates Reports $62,600 August Sales”. The Atlanta Journal, August 12, 1945, p. 7-D. ↩︎
“Homes for Sale, N.E.” The Atlanta Constitution, May 18, 1945, p. 23. ↩︎
“Household Goods”. The Atlanta Constitution, August 24, 1946, p. 6. ↩︎
Photo credit: Marr, Christine V. and Sharon Foster Jones. Inman Park. Arcadia Publishing: Charleston, South Carolina, 2008, p. 49. ↩︎
Tyson, Jean. “Rebirth: Old Neighborhoods Come Alive Again”. The Atlanta Journal and Constitution, April 20, 1975, p. 1-G. ↩︎
Sparks, Andrew. “Turmoil Among the Turrets”. The Atlanta Journal and Constitution Magazine, March 7, 1971, p. 25. ↩︎
“Crime Report”. The Atlanta Constitution, January 3, 1975, p. 4-C. ↩︎
“Two Persons Leap to Deaths Here”. The Atlanta Constitution, August 22, 1976, p. 6-A. ↩︎
“Bud Bailey Realty”. The Atlanta Constitution, April 29, 1981, Classified p. 12. ↩︎
“Downtown Properties”. The Atlanta Constitution, April 4, 1982, Classified p. 16. ↩︎
“Open House”. The Atlanta Journal, October 17, 1982, p. 30-J. ↩︎
“Downtown Properties”. The Atlanta Journal, May 2, 1982, Classified p. 17. ↩︎
Following G.L. Norrman‘s public airing of grievances [read the first, second, and third letters], the Atlanta school board discovered there wasn’t enough money to begin construction on the boys’ high school as planned.
The mayor urged the board to delay the school’s construction until the following year, but the board insisted on laying the building’s foundation, with plans to resume construction when funds were available.1
In recounting the events, The Atlanta Constitution said “many declared that Mr. Norrman had won his fight”, and recalled his earlier letters, stating that “some very interesting epithets were scattered around.”2
Norrman apparently disliked the insinuation and wrote “A Pointed and Picquant Card”, which was published on October 28, 1894.
Norrman’s remarks:
Atlanta, Ga. October 27, 1894
Editor Constitution—
“The manner of alluding to my name in Friday’s issue ofThe Constitution, I think is apt to be misleading, in regard to my attitude to the board of education. I have the highest respect for the board as a whole. Most, if not all, of its members are my personal friends, but being specially educated as an architect, and having followed the profession for twenty-five years, I do not think it can be considered presumptuousness on my part, or a mark of disrespect, that I ventured to suggest that some of the members of the board do not indicate such a high training or natural genius as to make them reliable, as either literary or artistic critics.
“Only a feeling of kindness prompted me to suggest that some of the members might fill, with honor to themselves and profit to the community, one of many pursuits which requires only personal character, but not a high order of culture. I am always pained when I see any of my friends pretend to know what they do not know, as they thereby put themselves in the attitude of filling positions for which they are not qualified.
“I never indulge in epithets—to call people names is vulgar. The occupation which I suggested to some of the members, of attending to domestic animals, is a most honorable calling. Many pursuits are more profitable, but none is more useful to the community at large, unless it be that of a scavenger. He is the true philanthropist. He does the greatest good to the greatest number, without either profit, honor or glory. On him depends all health and strength of both body and mind, throughout all civilization.
“That I did not suggest an occupation of the highest usefulness, like the latter, was not on account of any intended slight, but simply that it did not occur to me at the time.
“The only act which may in any degree reflect on the board, as far as I know, is the action of the building committee in selecting a plan which is unsafe in construction, defective in its appointments, and which will cost, when finished, $10,000 more than any other plans submitted. That the building committee should be so anxious and hasty to fasten such a defective and expensive building on the community, by wishing to start the foundation of the building this year, seems specially strange, in view of the fact that the honorable mayor went especially before the board to call its attention to the depleted condition of the municipal exchequer, and urged that the building be deferred to the ensuing year.”
Following the publication of G.L. Norrman‘s previous letters [read the first and second], Captain Hendrix of the school board issued a bland, deferential statement praising both Golucke & Stewart‘s and Norrman’s work.1
For their part, Golucke & Stewart wrote a catty letter in response to Norrman’s criticism of the firm and their plans, concluding: “We shall pay no further attention to his malicious attacks.”2
Norrman had his say again, in an article appropriately titled “Mr. Norrman Is Mad”, published in The Atlanta Constitution on September 7, 1894. This time, Norrman’s primary target was Captain Hendrix, whom he likened to an “assistant hog drover”.
Norrman’s remarks:
“Why, do you know that the attempts that have been made to answer my objections to the plans selected through the public prints, have amounted to nothing. I objected to those plans first, because they were imperfect and not suitable. My objection then was that of an architect. But now that the committee has selected those plans I object to them as a citizen of Atlanta and as a taxpayer. The building erected by those plans will not only be unsuitable, but it will be unsafe. That building, I tell you, would not be safe for school purposes, and as a citizen I have a right to object to them.3
Norrman continued his rant with another letter:
Editor Constitution—
“The card in this morning’s paper answers none of the complaints in regard to the defects in the adopted plans for the boys’ high school.
“Architecture is a combination of art and science which requires many years of study to comprehend, and any one who reflects for a moment will see how very difficult it is to learn architecture and how subtle the principles are on which it is based, as only a few can, after a lifetime study, design a building which will bear professional criticism, but only very ordinary training is necessary to see the defects which are pointed out in the design adopted for the boys’ high school.
“Captain Hendrix says in his letter that he can see no defects in the plans adopted. I never thought that he could see them. In fact, I believe that he has not the slightest conception of anything which pertains to culture, and would be a much more useful member of the community in the position of assistant hog drover to the president of the board of education than that of chairman of the building committee. I think he could see when pigs were well fed, and he would not then be in a position to waste the public funds or to jeopardize the lives of the occupants of the building.
“As to the card by Golucke & Stewart, I do not blame them for pretending to be architects as long as people will give them work in that line. The idea which I wanted to convey in the former interview was not a reflection on the competency of Golucke & Stewart as architects, but rather a reflection on the culture of those who recommended them.”
Golucke & Stewart. Williams Street School (1894-1951). Atlanta.12
The Background
As part of his ongoing dispute with the Atlanta school board, G.L. Norrman had choice words for the architectural firm of Golucke & Stewart. Norrman’s public criticism was unprofessional, but his assessment of the designers was correct, and frankly, not harsh enough.
Almost nothing is known of Stewart, but J.W. Golucke was a self-proclaimed architect from rural Georgia with no formal training or discernible skill.
Golucke was little more than a con artist who, throughout his career, managed to successfully swindle the good-ol’ boys of 27 Georgia counties and four Alabama counties, where he produced a string of courthouses that were sloppily designed and hideously styled, and in several cases so poorly constructed that they posed the risk of catastrophic failure.
Golucke died pathetically in 1907,3 a few weeks after trying to kill himself in a southwest Georgia jail, where he was being held on charges of—no surprise—forgery.45
Every known design by Golucke & Stewart shows consistently clumsy and crude work, and the plan for Atlanta’s boys’ high school was no exception. Norrman shared his opinion of the firm in a September 5, 1894, article in The Atlanta Constitution entitled “In Harsh Terms”.
Norrman’s remarks:
“Why, those plans which the building committee have accepted are a monstrosity in architecture, and the building should not be allowed to go up that way. No building should be erected in which valuable space is thrown away when it could be easily utilized. In fact, it could more easily be utilized than thrown away, as it is by these plans.
You should know that plans cannot be examined and passed upon except by one who knows architectural work thoroughly. Now, the tracing of those lines to the members of that committee were no more than the marks in India ink on a man’s arm. It is not meant for a reflection upon the members of the board or that committee when I say that, but it is said to show that they have simply made a mistake, and a mistake which should be corrected.
Now, Mr. Golucke does not pretend, as I understand it, to be an architect, but attends the building or contract work. Mr. Stewart is no architect: he is simply a tracer of lines. That’s about all, and cannot do anything more than make a nice picture. It was the picture, maybe, that caught the members of the committee which awarded the contract. Why, take for instance that stairway. To come from the second to the first floor there is but one, you may say, while from the third to the second there are two. Suppose all of those who might happen to be on the third floor should rush for an escape. On the second floor they would be joined or augmented by all on that floor. The reverse should be the case. Then, the way the designs read, a great deal of good space is lost that might be utilized, while the plan of ventilation is bad.”6
References
Illustration credit: “GoLucke & Stewart, Architects” (advertisement). The Atlanta Constitution, May 14, 1893, p. 9. ↩︎
“Wrecking” (advertisement). The Atlanta Constitution, August 25, 1951, p. 17. ↩︎
“Death Takes J.W. Golucke”. The Atlanta Constitution, October 28, 1907, p. 6. ↩︎
“J.W. Golucke Tries to Take His Life in Newton Jail”. The Atlanta Journal, October 7, 1907, p. 1. ↩︎
“Atlanta Man Tries Suicide”. The Atlanta Constitution, October 8, 1907, p. 9. ↩︎
“In Harsh Terms.” The Atlanta Constitution, September 5, 1894, p. 2. ↩︎
One of G.L. Norrman‘s most bitter public disputes—and there were several—unfolded in 1894, when plans that he and other legitimate Atlanta architects had submitted for the construction of the new Boys’ High School1 were passed over in favor of one designed by Golucke & Stewart,2 a substandard architectural firm even by Atlanta standards.
Golucke & Stewart.Boys’ High School (1894). Atlanta.3
Norrman had been shown the winning plans by Captain J.C. Hendrix, chairman of the school building committee, and was disgusted by what he found, writing a letter of opposition to the chairman of the school board, D.A. Beattie, detailing his objections to the design in exacting detail.4
Norrman apparently forwarded a copy of the letter to The Atlanta Constitution, which published it on September 5, 1894, in an article appropriately entitled “In Harsh Terms”.
Norrman’s remarks:
Atlanta, Ga., August 25, 1894
Mr. D.A. Beatie, City,
Dear Sir:
“The plans for the Boys’ High school were shown me yesterday by Captain Hendrix, and I find—
That the size of the building is much larger than the plans submitted by me, which will make it cost at least $5,000 more than my plan would have cost, and yet it has not as many appointments, which shows that there is a great deal of waste space in the plan accepted.
The ventilation is not as good, as only corner rooms in the accepted plan have windows on more than one side.
The accepted plan being four stories, makes it very much more inconvenient, and besides makes it very dangerous in case of fire, not only on account of its extra height, but on account of the stairway running zigzag so that one flight of stair does not come over the one below; especially so with the stairway leading to the public hall. So entirely different plans will have to be made, as the fire department and building inspectors will doubtless condemn the plan on account of the great fire risk.
The hall cannot be constructed without using columns to support the ceiling, and is not high enough for a gymnasium, which will make it practically useless.
The design is an architectural monstrosity, and will be a lasting reflection on the judgment of the board of education. If education is of any value at all, it is to adduce such qualities and surrounding as are in conformity with good taste, and I think among well-informed people, bad taste in architecture is more offensive than unconventional manners or incorrect speaking or writing. So it is of the greatest advantage that children should have training and correct architectural forms. To debauch children’s taste is about as bad as to debauch their morals, as taste and morals can hardly be separated.
“Believing that the board came to the decision without thorough examination into the designs submitted, I respectfully request that you allow me a hearing before the board. I feel sure that the result would be a reconsideration of your decision, as the plan submitted by myself should be accepted on account of less cost, superior appointment, better ventilation and greater safety in case of fire, and account of its architectural merit.
“As this is a matter of high public importance, I respectfully urge this request and ask you to lay it before the board at your earliest convenience. Not having seen any other plans, what I have said refers only to the plans adopted. There may be other plans of more merit than mine.”
G.L. Norrman. Denmark Hall (1902). University of Georgia, Athens.
One of G.L. Norrman‘s least interesting works, Denmark Hall at the University of Georgia in Athens, has always been something of a bastard stepchild.
Tucked in a dark corner of the campus near South Lumpkin Street, the structure was designed primarily as a dining hall containing two adjoining 1,296-square-foot dining rooms and initially accommodated 144 students.1
The structure was built concurrently with nearby Candler Hall and was named for B.A. Denmark of Savannah2, a University of Georgia alumnus and the chairman of the building committee for the university’s Board of Trustees, who died in June 1901, just weeks after approving Norrman’s plans,3 and one day before the building’s cornerstone ceremony.4
Location of Denmark Hall
Denmark had secured $45,000 from the Georgia legislature to fund the 2 buildings,5 but one of Norrman’s original plans called for combining the dining hall and dormitory into one structure—the committee rejected that proposal.6
Candler Hall subsequently received the bulk of the funding— $28,0007—and most of Norrman’s attention, it seems. Denmark Hall was reportedly built for less than half that amount: $12,850.8
Norrman’s plans were selected in open competition against a fairly meager crop of designers: J.W. GoLucke of Atlanta, Hodgson & Company of Athens, Georgia; E.C. Seiz of Atlanta; D.A. Myer of Williamsport, Pennsylvania; Alexander Blair of Macon, Georgia; and Walter & Legare of Columbia, South Carolina.9
It also no doubt helped that Norrman and B.A. Denmark had a history together: Denmark was a longtime member of Savannah’s local Board of Public Education, and approved Norrman’s plans for the Anderson Street School (1896),10 and presumably, the 38th Street School (1901).11
The Design
G.L. Norrman. Projected design of Denmark Hall, Athens, Georgia.12
Low-slung and utilitarian, Denmark Hall was designed with a central 2-story structure that originally housed the dining rooms, flanked by a large one-story kitchen at the back and a small one-story wing at the front, containing a sitting room, lounge, and small recessed entry porch. Storage rooms were located in the basement.13
The second floor included the “matron’s room”—living quarters for the dining hall manager—and “three other rooms for the use of students who may be sick enough to need such care and attention as they can be given there”, according to the Atlanta Constitution.14 A spacious recessed porch spanned the front of the second floor.
The exterior of the building was clad in stucco-covered brick scored to resemble stone and given Neoclassical touches.
Intact original elements include:
A simple Tuscan cornice around the main structure
A plain string course at the base of the building
A composite cornice on the front wing
Smooth pilasters on the front wing
Mullioned windows on the front wing
4 chimneys
Original elements that have been removed include:
The second-floor porch
7 Doric columns
2 decorative columns framing the entry
5 supporting columns spaced across the second-floor porch
A balustrade lining the roof of the front wing
Dormer windows on the front and sides
Denmark Hall’s facade evolved from Norrman’s design for the Arthur B.M. GibbesResidence in Savannah, Georgia, built in 1900.15 The Gibbes home is one of the most atrocious designs Norrman ever put his name to, and Denmark Hall wasn’t much better.
G.L. Norrman. Arthur B.M. Gibbes Residence (1900). Savannah, Georgia.
By the turn of the 20th century, Norrman had all but abandoned the brash, soaring lines and elements of his earlier designs: the lofty towers, fantastically high roofs, oversized porches and gables, and prominent chimneys.
The transition was partly due to changing tastes, but also reflected a severely depressed economy and Norrman’s own dwindling fortunes.
Looking at his projects circa 1897-1900, it’s clear that Norrman had lost confidence, inspiration, and interest: his designs from the time were often sluggish and banal, many of them poor rehashes of his earlier, more successful works.
The Gibbes Residence was one such project, a clunky reiteration of his design for the Milton DarganResidence in Atlanta.
For Denmark Hall, Norrman took the template for the Dargan and Gibbes facades and stretched it out. The entry porch from those designs remained, but the Palladian windows on either side were replaced with simpler windows.
The small recessed porch from the previous plans was expanded across the second floor, and the two large dormer windows from the Dargan house were shrunk to fit the building’s reduced height.
Norrman was a master of working with solids and voids in his compositions, and in his design for Denmark Hall, you can easily spot his technique.
It was as if he had removed a block of space from the second floor and placed it at the foot of the building, creating both the upper porch and the lower front wing—a simple but effective trick to achieve visual balance.
The building’s overall composition would have been stronger if it had remained faithful to the design shown in the original rendering (above), which included a higher roofline.
Why Norrman altered the roof to a lower pitch is unclear, but a vintage photograph of the building (pictured below) shows that the large porch columns and wide chimneys depicted in the illustration were substituted with thinner versions to accommodate the altered design, robbing the composition of much-needed vigor.
Breaking with classical precedent, the odd number of columns across the front was an unconventional choice, and a subtle indicator of the building’s role as a modern facility for the 20th century.
Photograph of Denmark Hall from an undated postcard.16
Construction and History
Construction on Denmark Hall began circa May 1901,17 using convict labor loaned by Clarke County.18
There was a report from June 1901 that the university’s Board of Trustees had concerns about the quality of the building materials used in Denmark Hall and Candler Hall, which the Atlanta Constitution remarked were “without weight, the architect demonstrating to the satisfaction of the board that the material was all right.”19
Denmark Hall’s cornerstone was laid on June 14, 1901,20 and a July report from “Supt. McKinly” stated that work on both buildings was expected to be completed by late October.21
Denmark and Candler Halls ultimately opened on January 7, 1902. With delays blamed on weather and the holidays, construction on the buildings ran to the last minute, and their completion delayed the start of the school semester by four days.22
In Denmark Hall’s first year of operation, students were charged a whopping $7.50 to $8 a month for meals.23
The original “matron” of the facility was Mrs. B.H. Kinnebrew.24 She resigned in March 1908,25 after her husband, a sheriff’s deputy, shot and killed himself with a .44 caliber pistol “from no known cause” in their apartment on the building’s second floor.2627
By that time, students had already begun referring to Denmark Hall as “the Beanery”,28 an inglorious name that stuck with the structure for decades. By 1910, with the school’s halls overflowing, part of the second floor was converted to dormitory space,29 a function it served through at least the early 1920s.
Interior of Denmark Hall, Athens, Georgia. Photograph from a postcard postmarked 1907.
Norrman never seemed overly concerned with planning his structures for anticipated growth: he publicly railed against “waste space” and consistently designed his interiors to be as compact as possible while remaining functional.
His design for Denmark Hall was no exception, and in November 1902, a newspaper report on the college’s record-breaking attendance stated that “every chair at the Denmark Dining Hall has been filled.”30
By 1903, seating was increased to 160,31 and in 1908, the hall reportedly served 253 students, with the Board of Trustees asking the governor and legislature for “increased facilities at Denmark Hall.”32 In 1911, a report stated that the building was “taxed to its capacity”, requiring “enlargement and better equipment.”33
Attendance at the school continued to grow, and despite repeated funding requests, Denmark Hall remained the only dining option on campus for more than 20 years.
In 1914, the Athens Daily Herald reported that “the Beanery is crowded again this year”, adding, “we hope that the legislature will be able to make appropriations to enlarge the dining hall.”34
In 1921, the Athens Daily Banner lamented: “Not only is the dining room crowded but the matter of cooking for 350 people in a kitchen equipped for two-thirds that number and not well equipped at that is taxing Mrs. Kennebrew’s [sic]most skillful management.”35 Apparently, Mrs. Kinnebrew returned.
Finally, with the opening of Memorial Hall in June 1924, the campus gained additional dining space,36 although Denmark Hall remained the primary facility for that purpose.
1936 addition to Denmark Hall, Athens, Georgia
In 1936, Denmark Hall received its first expansion: a small cafeteria seating 92 students.3738The cafeteria wing was attached to the southwest corner of the building,39 and its exterior appearance is remarkably congruent with Norrman’s design. The basement was also remodeled during the expansion.40
The cafeteria plan quickly gained popularity, and in 1938, Denmark Hall became the first dining space on campus to switch entirely to the cafeteria system,41 ending the era of “food served in the old manner”, which required the employment of waiters.42
In 1939, Mrs. M.D. Dunlap became the new director and dietitian of Denmark Hall,4344 and she and her husband, a professor, took up residence on the second floor. At some point in their residency, Professor Dunlap began a garden on the roof of the front wing.45
In 1942 and 1943, Denmark Hall received multiple additions to accommodate the feeding of 1,200 Signal Corps troops who trained on the University of Georgia campus in preparation for World War II.464748
The first expansion was an annex hastily added to the kitchen in 1942, expanding its size by a third.49 In 1943, four small additions were made to the building, including two screened porches.50 In September 1943, the Signal Corps school was closed,51 and the dining hall returned to student use.5253
With over $10,000 in improvements, the remodeled Denmark Hall was touted as “one of the most modern cafeterias on any campus in the South”,54 although that appears to have been hyperbole. In 1945, the university president reported to the Georgia General Assembly that the building was “outmoded and inadequate”. 5556
In 1948, after 10 years living on the second floor, Professor Dunlap moved to Atlanta, leaving his rooftop garden at Denmark Hall “wiltering”, according to one report.57 Seizing the opportunity, the college’s department of landscape architecture took over the building’s second floor, creating three draft rooms.58
Since 1938, the landscape architecture department had been based at the Lumpkin House,5960 a small antebellum residence that still stands on campus. With 75 students enrolled in the program,61 the new space in Denmark Hall was a much-needed addition to accommodate the department’s growth.
East side of Denmark Hall, Athens, Georgia
In 1955, a popular student hangout spot called the Co-Op moved to Denmark Hall’s basement, where it included a soda fountain, snack bar, grill, and a supply store. For the Co-Op’s occupation of the space, the basement was air-conditioned and refinished in knotty pine.6263
The rest of the building, however, was not air-conditioned and was reportedly “in bad shape”. In 1952, an inspection committee identified Denmark Hall as one of several buildings “in need of extensive repairs.”64
First-hand accounts of the Beanery at the time were unpleasant: students described it as “drab old Denmark Hall”,65 where “…to find your food during the warm months, you have to push literally dozens of flies from your plate.”66 Savory.
With the opening of a new cafeteria in nearby Memorial Hall, the last meal at Denmark Hall was served on March 14, 1956, ending 55 years of continuous food service.6768
The university had previously announced its plans to demolish Denmark Hall,6970 but the building was instead spared and received an extensive $40,000 overhaul for use as the landscape architecture department’s new home.7172
Looking at Denmark Hall from the northwest
Primarily designed by E.C. Weren, a member of the landscape architecture faculty, Denmark Hall’s renovation was not sympathetic to Norrman’s original design.
The renovation included the demolition of most of the original kitchen, a complete overhaul of the interior, enclosure of the second-floor porch, an outdoor stairwell tacked on to the west side of the building, air conditioning, and “extensive use of screen walls and glass.”73
This also appears to be when Denmark Hall’s columns, dormers, and balustrade were removed from the exterior, as they were still present in a photograph from 1951.74
The renovated building officially reopened on October 16, 1957.75
The Co-Op remained in the basement during Denmark Hall’s renovation and was expanded,767778 but in 1963, it was unceremoniously shuttered for full occupation by the landscape architecture department.79
On October 6, 1964, the building officially reopened again, with the basement now housing a model shop, blueprint room, darkroom, drafting room, and 2 classrooms. The basement renovation reportedly cost $100,000, more than twice the amount spent on the entire building 7 years earlier.80
Rear of Denmark Hall with screen walls from the 1957 renovation
Denmark Hall’s 1964 renovation was its last substantial alteration, although it has received piecemeal alterations and upgrades for decades. As of 2025, the building remains in use by the landscape architecture department’s successor, the College of Environment + Design.
Essentially nothing of Denmark Hall’s original interior remains, but if you stand outside and squint your eyes, you can still make out the form of Norrman’s design.
While Candler Hall received a beautiful renovation in 2003,81 the University of Georgia has shown little appetite to renovate its less-attractive sibling, which could still be accurately described as “drab old Denmark Hall.”
The College of Environment + Design’s 2025 strategic plan included a vague goal to “renovate Denmark Hall as a cutting-edge teaching facility… funds permitting.”82
That doesn’t sound very promising, does it?
Gallery
Dentilled cornice on the facade of Denmark Hall, Athens, GeorgiaFirst-floor double window on the facade of Denmark Hall, Athens, GeorgiaKeystone design and a window mullion on Denmark Hall, Athens, GeorgiaCornice on the facade of Denmark Hall, Athens, GeorgiaPilaster and dentilled cornice on the facade of Denmark Hall, Athens, Georgia
References
“Plan of University Buildings Complete”. The Atlanta Constitution, April 24, 1901, p. 1. ↩︎
