Category Archives: Public Art

Stephen F. Austin and the Company He Keeps

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There are a lot of notables in the Texas State Cemetery, but who’s more notable for Texas than Stephen F. Austin, especially since Sam Houston is buried somewhere else? Austin’s been in the cemetery in Austin for over 100 years now, reposing under a statue by an Italian sculptor who did most of his work in Texas, one Pompeo Coppini, whose name is conveniently on the base, and who had an interesting career I didn’t know about until I looked him up.

Wonder how many people who know about the city of Austin for its tech industries or music scene or its politics or UT or Keep Austin Weird or its moon towers know even a bit about Austin the man. Anyone who took Texas History in the 7th grade or read Texas History “Movies,” maybe.

Coppini gave Austin a determined visage, reaching for the future. Since he died young, at only 43, you have to wonder what he would have done had he lived another 30 years — at the very least held a number of high offices in the republic and the state, as Houston did.

The plaque in front of the figure says:

Stephen Fuller

AUSTIN

“The Father of Texas”
was born in Wythe County, Virginia
November 3, 1793
and died in Brazoria County, Texas
December 27, 1836

Wise, Gentle, Courageous, and Patient
He was the founder
of a mighty commonwealth

He’s actually one of the few full-sized bronzes in the cemetery. Most of the funerary art involves other shapes, such as that of Ma and Pa Ferguson, who are not far from Austin.

James and Miriam Ferguson, that is, who were both governor of the state at various times. My mother remembers them, and I heard about them from her from time to time.

One of the least conventional memorials in the cemetery — or in any cemetery — was this one, to William and Carrin Patman, whom I had to look up. He was a long-time Texas state senator and also spent a while in the U.S. House.

Other notables we spotted on “Republic Hill,” whose centerpiece is the Austin statue, included Walter Prescott Webb, Bigfoot Wallace, Rep. Barbara Jordan, Rep. Jake Pickle, and a few other governors and state officials. Coach Darrell Royal is buried near the road. I hadn’t realized he was dead. His stone features a UT gold ring and the words, “Let’s Give Him Three.”

 

On Stolp Island

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I took pictures at the western end of the New York Street Memorial Bridge in Aurora, but naturally I had to walk across it too. Or at least across the western section of the bridge to Stolp Island, because I didn’t realize at that moment that the eastern section of the bridge counted as part of the same bridge.

HistoricBridges.org explains: “The New York Street Memorial Bridge is technically a single bridge spanning the entire river. However, in the 1960s, fill was brought in to expand the island northward, and the center of the bridge was buried in the fill. Today, a parking garage is located south of the former center of the bridge and a casino is located north of the former center of the bridge.”

I made it as far that former center of the bridge, where I saw a plaque dedicated to Gen. Pershing.

It looks like it was tacked on to the parking garage, but the plaque came first, put there in 1960 for Pershing’s centennial (about 12 years after he died). Not far away was a bas-relief, flanked by eagles. I didn’t see a sign describing the work, but it’s safe to say it honors the ordinary soldiers of the Great War.

Across the street, in front of the casino, is the statue “Victory.”

“The Chicago Architectural Bronze Company manufactured the bronze tablets and light fixtures. Roman Bronze Works of New York City cast the bridge’s crowning central figure of Victory,” according to HistoricBridges.org.

Does anyone entering the casino mistake her for Lady Luck? Of course, Lady Luck doesn’t spend much time in a casino, however much gamblers want her to. Or maybe she does, but hews more closely to Fortuna, who inspired both good and bad luck. I think Dame Probability runs the joint – and she’s always on the side of the house.

The New York Street Memorial Bridge

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On Saturday afternoon, I got a good look at the New York Street Memorial Bridge in Aurora, Illinois, which spans the Fox River.

My vantage for this image was from the Fox River Trail, next to the river. The bridge connects the west bank of the river to a large island — large enough, in fact, that a good bit of downtown Aurora is built on it — and then another section of the bridge (not pictured) connects the island with the east bank of the river. The building in the background is the Hollywood Aurora Casino, which is located on the northern tip of the island — Stolp Island, to use its euphonious name.

HistoricBridges.org tells me that “the New York Street Memorial Bridge was designed as a memorial to World War I veterans. The bridge is far more than a typical memorial bridge where a simple memorial plaque is placed on the bridge. Instead, the bridge displays a truly beautiful design where the bridge itself is the memorial. At each end of the bridge, a concrete statue titled ‘Memory’ rises up above the railings at the westernmost and easternmost pier points.”

This is one of the “Memory” statues. At the base of this statue — and I suppose the other three, though I didn’t check — is a plaque. Oddly, its language doesn’t explicitly memorialize those who fought in WWI, but considering the date on the plaque, those who built the bridge probably assumed that everyone would know who it was for. The plaque says:

MEMORIAL BRIDGE

Aurora – Illinois

1930-1931

Be this memorial forever dedicated to the defenders of American ideals; as a reverent memory to the departed; as a vivid tribute to the living; and as a patriotic challenge to posterity, that these ideals shall not perish. Anon.”

More from HistoricBridges.org: “The bridge was originally proposed and designed by Aurora City Engineer Walter E. Deuchler, but citizens then requested the bridge be a memorial bridge and so Emory Seidel and Karl Miller of Seidel Studios of Chicago… were hired to redesign the proposed bridge as the memorial bridge seen today.”

More about the bridge is at the site, including information from the National Register Historic District nomination form.

A closer look at “Memory.”

Posterity drives and walks by her every day. Who sees her as anything more than a bridge ornament? A few, perhaps. Could be that “Memory” has mostly been forgotten.

The Steel Globe

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One thing this country needs more of: large, publicly placed globes. This stainless steel globe has been on Wacker Dr. in downtown Chicago, at the base of the Tower Formerly Known as Sears, since early 2010.

The Poblocki Sign Co. of Milwaukee fabricated the globe, which is 25 feet in diameter. The metal was polished by KMF Metals, also of Wisconsin, and the company is happy to show off its work (oddly, Poblocki’s web site doesn’t make such a big deal out of the globe).

Not as imposing as the 120-foot diameter Unisphere, nor as detailed, but still a nice bit of work.

Giant Planter Heads on a Major Metro Thoroughfare

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The July 2 edition of the Chicago Tribune had this to say about the giant planter heads on Michigan Ave.: “Fifteen giant heads, filled with various plants, have taken up residency on Michigan Avenue for the summer. The Plant Green Ideas sculptural heads are the brainchild of Plant Green Ideas RRR, a Chicago not-for-profit committed to sustainability and are in conjunction with the Chicago Cultural Mile.”

We saw a few of them on Saturday. This is one sponsored by Italian Village, a downtown restaurant.

Better pictures are, for now, at the Tribune photo essay.

Buckingham Fountain

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I looked at Oddschecker.com this morning and, as reported elsewhere, “George” is the favorite for naming the newborn child of the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge. Followed by James, Alexander, Louis – Louis? after Louis Mountbatten, probably, but so many French kings used it – Arthur and Henry. Maybe he’ll get all of those. I doubt I’ll live to see which regnal name he picks, anyway.

The longest of the long shots, and I’m only counting names that more than one booking organization is taking bets on, are Wayne, Tyler, Winston and Terry. Reportedly, Ladbrokes is offering 5000-1 odds on the prince being named “North,” or “Psy,” and Power Paddy’s giving 500-1 on “Rumpelstiltskin,” but you have to wonder whether they’re just having a spot of fun with those. “Zog” doesn’t seem to be in the running at all.

The favorites are OK, I suppose, though there seem to have been enough Georges since the Stuarts got the bum’s rush. The Windsors ought to reach a little further back to such kingly names as Offa, Egbert, Ethelwulf, or Ethelbert. If those sound too peculiar to modern ears – and they do – Alfred is always available. He was great, after all. But maybe those names are all too English, and would help goad the Scots toward independence.

We made it as far east as Buckingham Fountain on Saturday. Here Ann (left) and her cousin Rosie take a look.

It’s been some years since I’ve seen the fountain up close, which in full is called the Clarence F. Buckingham Memorial Fountain, though I’ve never heard anyone call it that. It’s named for the brother of the philanthropist Kate Buckingham, who funded its construction and set up a trust for its maintenance back in the 1920s.

An interesting  blog called Connecting the Windy City has this to say about the heiress Kate Buckingham: “The Fulton elevator, the city’s first grain elevator, was built by her grandfather, Solomon Sturges. Her father, Ebenezer Buckingham, was also responsible for the construction of grain elevators and elevated railroads in the city.”

Ebenezer. Now that would be a catchy name for the royal child. And it would honor that great British inventor, Ebenezer Tweezer.

Back to the fountain. According to the Chicago Park District, “Edward H. Bennett designed the monument in collaboration with French sculptor Marcel Loyau and engineer Jacques H. Lambert. Inspired by the Latona Basin at Versailles, the structure is composed of four basins clad in elaborately carved granite and pink Georgia marble.

“The Buckingham Fountain, however, is twice the size and re-circulates approximately three times more water than its French counterpart. [Anything the French can do, we can do bigger.] Chicago’s fountain is also unique as it symbolizes Lake Michigan. Conveying the enormity of the lake, its major display… sprays water to a height of 150 feet from the ground. The massive lower basin features four sets of Art Deco-style sea horses representing the four states that border Lake Michigan.” Never heard that interpretation before, but why not?

“The Fountain’s water capacity is 1.5 million gallons. Depending on wind conditions, major displays use approximately 14,100 gallons of water per minute conveyed through 134 jets. Water is re-circulated from the base pool after the basins are filled and not drawn from the outside except to replace losses from wind and evaporation.”

Red Bird

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And just who was Red Bird? An early 19th-century warrior of the Winnebago, or as they call themselves, the Ho-Chunk. To my ear at least, that double naming works out well, since Winnebago is a fine name for the major lake in Wisconsin, and Ho-Chunk is a fine name for the tribe’s 21st-century casinos, which are in Wisconsin Dells and other places (and which advertise a fair bit in the metro Chicago market).

There’s a large statue of Red Bird facing Lake Winnebago at High Cliff State Park.

Its plaque says the statue was “designed by Adolphe E. Seebach” and “executed by Sculpture House, New York.” Seebach was apparently a Wisconsin sculptor who died in 1969, but a cursory look for him doesn’t uncover much more.

The Banta Company Foundation paid for the work; information on Banta isn’t hard to find. It was a large printing company based in Menasha, one of the Fox Cities, in business for over a century until R.R. Donnelley swallowed it in 2006. Why the company foundation decided to sponsor a statue of Red Bird in 1961—the date on the plaque—I couldn’t say. But there he stands, supposedly depicted as he was in 1827.

The Wisconsin Historical Society says of Red Bird: “Wrongly informed that the U.S. had executed two of their warriors, and thinking other tribes would support them due to widespread white incursions on Indian land, a party of Ho-Chunk from LaCrosse [including Red Bird] attacked settlers near Prairie du Chien in the last week of June, 1827. They killed two men and assaulted a child before returning to their village. On June 30th, a keelboat passing that village was attacked because the Ho-Chunk believed it was the same one whose crew had recently abducted and raped several Indian women.

“In response, the U.S. Army moved troops up from St. Louis, local militia units were hastily formed, and a total of ca. 600 soldiers assembled at Prairie du Chien. Another 100 militia were gathered at Green Bay, where 125 Menominee, Oneida and Stockbridge warriors joined in support of them. In late August these two forces converged from different directions on the assembled Ho-Chunk near Portage. On Sept. 2, 1827, Ho-Chunk tribal leaders surrendered the warrior Red Bird and five others, and further bloodshed was avoided. Red Bird died in prison and the other warriors were tried, sentenced to death, but ultimately pardoned.”

Elsewhere I’ve read that Red Bird dressed in his best finery to surrender – which is how he’s depicted in the statue – and expected to be put to death immediately, as he might have been by another tribe. To his bewilderment, he was chucked in prison, the sort of place in which you might die of dysentery, rather than experience a warrior’s death.

A Short Visit to Brussels

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Southern Door County, the part below the Sturgeon Bay Ship Canal, isn’t the Door of tourist lore. But we discovered one of its charms all the same. Wisconsin 57 is the main road from the city of Green Bay to the town of Sturgeon Bay, and consulting the invaluable guidebook Moon Wisconsin, I noticed a town called Brussels just off the highway. “Brussels and surrounding towns… constitute the country’s largest Belgian-American settlement,” Moon asserts. “The architecture of the region is so well preserved that 100 buildings make up Wisconsin’s first rural National Historic Landmark.”

I had to take a look at that. We headed from 57 up County Highway C, and from that vantage, I have to say, it’s easy to miss most of those historic structures. Until you get to the junction of Highway C and Cemetery Road, that is, where you’ll find the St. Francis and St. Mary Parish Church. The setting is distinctly rural, complete with the odor of cow manure.

ST FRANCIS CHURCH is carved over the main entrance, but I understand that another congregation, St. Mary’s, joined St. Francis at one time. Not surprising, considering the way rural populations have dwindled in recent decades. My family thought I was stopping to see the adjacent cemetery, which looked interesting enough, but I really wanted to see whether the church was open. To my surprise, it was. I had to pry everyone else out of the car to come see the interior, which has some nice stained glass.

One side was well-lit by the sun, so I took some pics of saints. Because who doesn’t like stained-glass saints? Such as Agnes, patron of chastity, gardeners (?), girls, engaged couples, rape victims, and virgins.

Or Hubert, patron of hunters, mathematicians, opticians, and metalworkers.

I also discovered, on further inspection, that the Francis of the church name is Francis Xavier, missionary to Asia, though why the Belgians who built the church chose him, I couldn’t say.

Everyone was waiting for me in the car as I looked around the cemetery, so I didn’t have long. Besides gravestones, it also featured a small grotto.

The light wasn’t quite right, but I say when you run across a grotto, take a picture if you can.

Sturgeon Bay Sturgeons

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First stop in Door County on July 5: the town of Sturgeon Bay, county seat and tourist magnet during the summer.  Wisconsin 57 connects the city of Green Bay with the town, which straddles the Sturgeon Bay Ship Canal.

The canal, which started as a bit of Victorian engineering – it was completed in 1881 – means that ships out of the city of Green Bay don’t have to go all the way around the Door Peninsula to get to Milwaukee or Chicago. It also cuts Door County in two, making part of it a large island, though no one seems to think of it that way.

Sturgeon Bay was a fairly busy place on the day after the Fourth of July, but not so crowded that we couldn’t find a convenient parking space and, at about noon, a place to eat without waiting for a table. At the corner of Third and Louisiana streets is the Inn at Cedar Crossing, which I thought was a fanciful name for the restaurant where we had lunch, but it turns out there’s a bed and breakfast upstairs, and Third used to be called Cedar. Whatever the story, the place serves a satisfying lunch.

Third is one of the town’s main streets, featuring a mix of tourist businesses and everyday-need retailers. Also along the street are sturgeon statues. They’re part of “Sturgeon Around the Bay,” one of the many descendants of CowParade, which the city of Chicago helped popularize in 1999.

This particular one is called “Bon Appetit,” created by Chonda Hoschbach and Cori Rosen.  I looked at it for a minute before I realized it was made mostly of stainless-steel spoons, with some forks thrown in. According to the plaque that comes with the fish, the works will be auctioned on September 21, just as the tourist season is winding down. The beneficiary will be the Sturgeon Bay Visitor Center.

Looking for Tail-Gunner Joe

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A funny thing happened to me yesterday, late in the afternoon, as I scoured through St. Mary’s Cemetery in Appleton, Wisconsin, looking for a particular tombstone. I wasn’t having any luck finding it. But I did enjoy the graveyard’s handsome grounds, which are near the Fox River.

On Independence Day, we’d set out for northeastern Wisconsin – to see Appleton and the other Fox River cities, plus take a jaunt up to Door County.  I enjoyed parts of Appleton last year without my family, and I thought they’d like some of the places I’d been. As for Door County, we paid a visit in 2001, but it was too short and we’d long wanted to go again. This visit was also too short – I figure we’d need a week to do Door right.

Yesterday was our last day, and I headed out for St. Mary’s Cemetery by myself, since no one else cares to visit cemeteries. Specifically, I wanted to see the place’s most famous – infamous – resident, Sen. Joseph McCarthy. I couldn’t find him for a while. Find-a-Grave wasn’t exact enough. There were other McCarthys – even other Joseph McCarthys, since the cemetery is well populated with Irish names – but the Senator was elusive.

Then I spotted a man and his small daughter riding through the cemetery on something like one of those drivable carts you see at grocery stores. Eventually, they came fairly close to me, and I had to ask, since we were the only (living) people in the cemetery, and no guide signs or other clues pointed the way.

“Excuse me, do you know where Joseph McCarthy is buried? You know, the Senator.” Even in Appleton – he was from nearby Grand Chute – I can’t assume anything.

The man, about 10 years younger than me and with close-cropped reddish hair, looked at me for a moment. “We’re not supposed to tell people that,” he said. “He was my great-uncle.”

“Oh.”

“But I will tell you he’s at one of the corners, near the river.” And then they started on their way again. I guess he decided I didn’t want to harm the memorial, which of course was true. I just wanted a picture. Soon I found the stone and took one.

What are the odds of running into a grand-nephew of Joe McCarthy? (Assuming he wasn’t kidding about that.) I checked, and McCarthy was from a family of seven children, so in Appleton, the odds wouldn’t be that bad.