October 10, 2015
12 Miles; Summit-University, Crocus Hill
This ride wasn’t long in terms of mileage but it covered substantial amounts of local history and altitude.
The front of 744 Ashland, built as the Temple of Aaron Synagogue, and now apartments.
This is the rather unusual entrance to the apartment building at 744 Ashland Avenue at Grotto. Construction on the building, the original Temple of Aaron Synagogue, began in 1914 and was completed in 1916 as the it took time for the congregants to raise the amount needed to finish the building.
Temple of Aaron in 1916. Courtesy of Minnesota Historical Society.
The Ten Commandments written in Hebrew is one of the only clues to the building’s original purpose.
Congregation Beth Israel moved into the building after Temple of Aaron moved to new synagogue on River Road in Highland Park.
Temple of Aaron remained here until 1957 when the congregation moved to its new home on Mississippi River Boulevard in Highland Park.
Underground parking and the patio above were likely part of the synagogue’s conversion to apartments in the late 1970s.
Among the many landmarks seen from Summit Overlook Park is the Smith Avenue High Bridge, which stands out on the center-left. The trees on either side of the High Bridge are Saint Paul’s West Side. The Mississippi River is partially hidden by the railings in the foreground.
The delightful Summit Overlook Park offers much more than its size suggests. Summit Overlook Park is a modest triangle of land at the junction of Summit Avenue and Ramsey Street. Thick grass draws people to picnic and play, and benches aplenty pull in those who want to sit a spell. Trees and bushes on the east side of the park contribute a touch of tranquility.
Hanging out is popular in Summit Overlook Park.
The views of the Mississippi River Valley, the High Bridge, Saint Paul’s West Side, and Downtown are spectacular and ever changing. Fans of Saint Paul history will find Summit Overlook Park to their liking as well.
This bustling park is one of Saint Paul’s oldest, according to the Minnesota Historical Society, having been established sometime between 1887 and 1890. For some 30 years before that, Carpenter’s (or the Carpenter) Hotel occupied this spot. Many details about the hotel are ambiguous, but several sources I found agree the Carpenter was built into the bluff on the eastern portion of the property. The hotel was five to seven stories tall and included windows on the below-grade floors along Ramsey Street. The Carpenter closed in the late 1880s, either because a fire destroyed it, or because the owner died. The hotel or the burned remains were removed in the 1890s and the land converted to a park.
The bronze New York Life Eagle has been perched in Summit Overlook Park since 2004.
Another nod to Saint Paul history is the New York Life Eagle, a bronze sculpture that graced the top of the three story entrance to the city’s stunning New York Life Building.
The Eagle above the entrance to the New York Life Building in Downtown Saint Paul. Photo courtesy Minnesota Historical Society.
The Eagle sculpture, by acclaimed artists Louis and Augustus St. Gaudens, denoted the strength and protection offered by the life insurance company. Unfortunately, the architectural majesty of the 10-story tower was no match for the Urban Renewal movement of the ‘60s, and in 1967, down came the New York Life Building and the Eagle.
The beautiful New York Life Building stood at Minnesota and East 6th Street.
Public Art Saint Paul says a citizen’s group, bought the Eagle sculpture. Shortly after, it was purchased by a real estate executive and moved to a pedestal next to the Pioneer Building and its parking ramp on 4th and Jackson. Over the next 32 years, the Eagle sat in that pedestrian spot even as it changed hands several times – whenever the parking ramp was sold. Public Art Saint Paul took possession of the New York Eagle in 1999. Both the Eagle sculpture and Summit Overlook Park were restored and rededicated in June 2004.
A block east of Summit Overlook Park, Western Avenue and Irvine Avenue meet at Summit. Irvine looks like the driveway to some condos off Summit, which it is. But it is also a public street. Based on this ride and two or three other visits to Irvine Avenue, it is a remote place among well-traveled streets. Its unique traits include the topography – having been cut out of the sheer bluff that climbs from Ramsey Street below to Summit Avenue. The homes that have been wedged into lots along Irvine Avenue are of various sizes, styles, eras and values.
Irvine Avenue is split along its length to because of the steep accent of Ramsey Hill.
Even the layout of Irvine Avenue itself is unusual, something like a mountain switchback with upper and lower parts of the street.
Irvine Avenue was ‘unimproved’ in city jargon in 1950 when this picture was taken. Courtesy Minnesota Historical Society & St. Paul Dispatch
The red brick house is on Summit Avenue. Five different walls are terraced between the back yard of the house on Summit and the street level on Irvine. Everything below the fence belongs to the Irvine Avenue property owner.
At least a part of this unusual and large home, 339 Irvine, was built in 1895, according to Ramsey County records.
That’s a lot of stone covering the four levels of exterior at 333 Irvine.
Long after my ride I learned 311 Irvine was built in 1990, while researching and writing this post. The thick vegetation and old stone wall led me to believe the house was significantly older.
311 Irvine presents a sophisticated French vibe, from the architecture and landscaping to the sign on the stone wall.
Rue Eugene Dupont is a street in the city of Lessines in Belgium.
Only eight years newer than 311 Irvine, the two condos at 277 and 279 share zero design cues.
I spotted this out building as I worked my way east. Unfortunately the fence and thick bushes kept me from getting a better view.
Irvine Avenue doubles back upon itself just down the bluff at the east end.
These are the street signs at the east end of Irvine. Nothing confusing about this.
Adding to the jumble, Irvine also descends and intersects Pleasant Avenue, which is the west frontage road for 35E.
The Walnut Street Steps are a small but intriguing part of the story of the James J. Hill family.
A small portion of the 1916 plat map of what is called Dayton and Irvine Addition. By this time, the city had agreed to vacate a portion of Walnut Street and add it to Louis Hill’s property. The James J. Hill House, 252 Summit is at the top center. Louis Hill’s home, 260 Summit, is to the left.
There’s quite a story to the Walnut Street Steps, starting with the fact that Walnut Street today is about two blocks away. As you can see on the 1916 plat map, Walnut Street continued northwest from Downtown, and up the bluff to Summit Avenue. In 1901, Louis Hill, James J. Hill’s son, decided to build a new house on Summit next door to his father’s mansion. In the AIA Guide to the Twin Cities, Larry Millett wrote that the younger Hill asked the city to vacate the right-of-way platted as Walnut. The city approve Louis Hill’s request with the condition that Hill build a new staircase that would always be open to the public and that’s how the Walnut Street Steps came to be.
At one time there were two doors or openings from the Walnut Street Steps onto the James J. Hill property. I’d love to know how these were used. While not difficult to see, kudos to the artisan who did the work.
The two upper stories of the James J. Hill House are visible over the stone fence.
Closer to Summit Avenue, the stairs give way to a sidewalk. That’s a corner of the Louis Hill Mansion on the left. Notice that a brick wall separates Louis’s home and the stairs, while dad’s is a stone wall.
Looking down the Walnut Street Steps you can see United Hospital and related medical buildings.
Moving on from the steps, I rode along the lower level of Irvine Avenue. The house addresses were all even and increased as I went west. I stopped in front of the garage at 318 to watch a gentleman working with stained glass.
“Driver 2068”, which is how he identified himself for our interview, holds a piece of glass toward the sun to get a good look at the patterns.
“Driver 2068” as he identified himself, told me he’d been making stained glass art for about two years. I asked if he liked doing stained glass, he answered yes but added, “It’ll keep me from growing my hair back.”
I asked why and he replied, “Come on. I’ll show you the piece I’m working on.” That piece was the incredibly intricate Chicago Blackhawks logo.
The Chicago Blackhawks logo pattern doesn’t look bad from this view.
But a closer look and you’ll see there are at least 30 different colors of glass in just the feathers!
“Driver 2068” holds the paper pattern of the face of the Blackhawk logo. He used a single piece of glass for the face, below. But the complexity of the shape and the cutouts, some of which “Driver 2068” had yet to do, provided him with ample challenges.
The precise and intricate shapes of stained glass in the logo required specialized tools, including a circular diamond saw, a diamond studded grinder and high quality hand cutter.
Just outside his garage workshop, “Driver 2068″ shows off one of the dozens of different colored pieces of stained glass in his collection.
There is more precision work to do once the glass pieces have been cut to the proper size and shape, and the rough edges ground off.
“Driver 2068″ cuts some of the copper foil which he’ll put on each piece of glass prior to soldering everything together.
“The only thing that holds it together is the copper foil. Both sides (of each piece of glass) have to be copper foil. Inside, outside; the whole thing has to be foiled and then tinned. You take a little bit of solder and it just follows the copper, so now you’ve got a solid metal surface. Then you put the two surfaces together, put the flux on it, and solder it.”
Some of the chemical cleaners and polishes in “Driver 2068’s” garage workshop.
Next come the chemicals – alcohol, flux, nail polish remover, mirror edge sealant – to name a few. “After everything’s been put together – everything – you take the glass putty and mix it up and plop it in there, and brush it in every crack and nook and cranny. Then you let it dry and brush off the excess.”
The stained glass workshop, with its hardware, chemicals and supplies, and glass – occupies a single car garage.
With all elaborate steps to making stained glass art, what is “Driver 2068’s” favorite? “When I get the money.”
“You’re making this for someone else, not for yourself?”, I asked.
“Hell no! This is $1,500 dollars! I like doing it but I also like getting paid for it.”
“Driver 2068” been doing stained glass art about 2 years. He started as part of rehabilitation of his hand after a fall on the ice, in which he broke his wrist, requiring 16 titanium screws, and three plates to fix. He finishing physical therapy and was getting really bored. “It was a form of get the hell out of the house; you’re getting crazy.
“I was getting the use of my hand back and I looked in the Community Education brochure and went, ‘Stained glass. OK, I’ll give that a shot.’ I found out that I was damn good at it,” he said laughing.
Reviewing some details on the plans for the Chicago Blackhawk’s mascot.
For centuries, artists have usually signed or marked their works. Some say Michelangelo started the trend by carving his name in the chest of ‘La Pieta.’“Driver 2068” signs his works ‘Cracked Glass by Anthony.’ “I find a couple of pieces of glass that are cut, cracked, broken and glue it on the back of whatever.”
“It was a hobby and now it’s turning into a gigantic monster.” As you’ve likely figured, stained glass art is best for those with an abundance of serenity. “It’s not for everybody. You have to have extreme patience and you have to know when to walk away from it – ‘cause if you don’t you’ll start breaking stuff.”
I asked if he’s speaking from experience and he said, somewhat sheepishly, “Oh, yeah.” And then he laughed. What did he do? “I’m very verbal. I’ve got vernaculars that will make you blush.”
“Driver 2068” also relies on a monthly massage to take away the stress.
My ride continued about 200 feet west, where I talked with Karen Avaloz in her front yard at 330 Irvine. One of the first things Karen told me was, “My name is from A to Z and I love it.” Karen’s enthusiasm and humor punctuated the interview through to the end.
I’m intrigued by how people choose to live in a particular neighborhood or house, so that’s the first thing I asked Karen about. “I had a very dear, dear friend who rented a house down the street…and I lived up on Grand Avenue. I would put John (her older son) in the stroller and come down to visit Karen, and I discovered this street and fell in love with it.”
Karen Avaloz in the front yard of her long-time home at 330 Irvine Avenue.
Karen and her husband Tino had lived here for 45 years at the time we met. “This just tells you how times change ‘cause I’m not that old. We bought this house and all the property that goes with it for $18,000. When I tell people that they think we live in an outhouse.”
Karen and Tino’s home at 330 Irvine.
The house has an unusual back story, according to Karen. Andrew Johnson, a Scandinavian immigrant, worked for a Downtown company as a general handyman. He built 330 Irvine and the house next door. “They have beams in the old carriage house up there (on Summit) that was part of the Summit Avenue mansion that are the same as the beams in our house. They’re 12x12s or 8x12s and we have four of them holding up this house.”
And, added Karen, “I think, a lot of those things he got from working in the buildings Downtown. I’ve got a marble top in my bathroom upstairs. Anything he could salvage from the jobs he did he would bring home. My husband found a lot of this stuff in the playhouse that’s behind our house. I’ve got some of his old tools. They’re just beautiful.”
The playhouse in Karen’s back yard looks tiny because of the distance from the house and the slope of the yard.
Impressive details, right down to the door knocker and roof overhang, on the playhouse in Karen Avaloz’s back yard.
Not long after settling in on Irvine Avenue, Karen got involved in local activism through the West Seventh Federation. “The neighborhood Federation was one of the most wonderful experiences of my life because it was honest-to-God participatory democracy. They looked out for the neighborhood. They looked out for the neighbors.”
One success was battling garbage dumping on Irvine Avenue. “There was a group of us that organized and when we found trash we would go through it. People are not very bright. They throw their trash and all their personal mail. So we have bills and other mail, all to the same address. So we would find out where they lived. It was very easy to find phone numbers. Usually we’d load it up and take it back and put it in their yard. The ordinance for Saint Paul says that as long as you don’t trespass; as long as you stay on public property, you can put it on the yard, which we did.”
“One man,” Karen continued, “he got a real good deal from a young kid with a big truck. I think he just assumed the young man would do the right thing. Of course, he drove up here and dumped it off on Irvine Avenue.”
That’s when ‘The Goon Squad,’ a branch of the neighborhood federation, picked up the trash dumped on Irvine Avenue and ferried it back from where it came from, as determined by the addresses on the mail. “The older gentleman was very upset and he called the police. I reminded the police of the ordinance number that allowed us to stay on public property, and we explained to them, ‘They dumped it on our street – lots of it – and we don’t want it there.’ The policeman thought we were kind of crazy but he didn’t do anything to us.”
Karen and the crew got the older man to tell them who he hired to take his garbage. Then they went to work. “We found the number for that gentleman and we called him up. The first time he said he didn’t know anything about it. Then we called again and his mother said he wasn’t home. We told her the same thing about coming and getting it. And we’d call every 15 minutes or on the half-hour, depending, and just keep reminding them we had their trash, until they go so sick of hearing us that they’d either come get it, or they’d all leave home. That took care of it.”
Before it was Dave’s Shoe Repair, 489 was the infamous Raquel’s Rap, a front for prostitution. Photo courtesy West Seventh Federation
During the 20 years Karen was most active with the West Seventh Federation, it also battled more serious problems, including prostitution on West 7th Street during the mid-1970s.
It took community members 20 years of protests and complaints to the city, and a $1.8 million payment from the City to the Faust owners to get them to close the notorious adult theater. The Minneapolis Star Tribune newspaper story from March 7, 1989 about the day the Faust Theater shut down. Photo courtesy Newspapers.com
In the 1980s, she and the Federation helped get rid of adult entertainment in University Avenue. Karen told me she decided to picket in front of the old Faust Theater on University Avenue and Dale Street with a coalition of people from different neighborhood associations. “I asked David (Thune, former West Seventh Federation and City Council member), ‘If I help you picket, can I have the sign from the Faust Theater because my husband’s name is Faustino, and I would like to put that on his grave.’ My husband never thinks my humor is funny but everybody else does.”
Karen continues to serve her community though now it’s usually in her Irvine Avenue neighborhood. She and a couple of neighborhood children were cleaning up trash along the street when I first saw her. “I was the neighborhood watchdog so to speak, and now I just say I’m the witch of Irvine Avenue because I’m old enough and my hair is grey enough.”
Today’s trek was twelve miles of riding, and more than 100 years of stories. Click here for the map.
Another fun and enjoyable Wolfie post! I wonder what might still be behind the stoned in doorways? A bit far to link up with the legendary tunnel from The Minnesota Club to Nina’s.
On the east side of the street where Summit heads steeply downhill towards 7th Street stands a house where Clement Haupers still lived and worked during the 1970’s in his old age. He and his late girlfriend (or was she his wife?), Clara Mears, were noteworthy Minnesota artists, and he had been an administrator in the WPA easel painters program.
What a great piece here! I had always wondered about Dave’s Shoe Repair…
Correction: Clara Mairs (not Mears).