second empire house

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Second Empire, Bellefonte, PA by Joseph

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McNamee-Eilts house, Wabash, IN by Equinox27
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In addition to a huge commercial block in the style, Wabash boasts this beautiful Second Empire house. “Indiana Houses of the Nineteenth Century” lists it at 208 W. Hill St and says it was built in 1870. It appeared to be in good condition except for some brick damage on the tower. Unfortunately, the blue spruce planted in the front here have since obscured the view. (last time I checked anyway) Woodwork is exceptional if viewed larger.

anonymous asked:

Well, since you broke down how absolutely *insane* the Hale House is (aka nothing matches). I now wish you would write a fic where we find out that the architect for (most of) the old BH houses was an anchestor of Finstock. Only a Finstock would be brave/crazy enough to build those houses. Bobby is probably the black sheep, he got into teaching/sport.

Stiles had never been to the art history classroom—or at least he was guessing it was an art history classroom, based on the posters of Starry Night and…some Renaissance looking stuff. Leonardo, Raphael—the ninja turtle gang. He didn’t actually know or care, he was much more preoccupied with not dying a horrible and painful death these days.

It felt wrong being in that room, and the only reason he knew he was in the right place was Scott sitting in his usual third row seat. But as he looked closer at the other desks, he realized the rest of the class was packed with lacrosse players and track team members, no doubt hoping for an easy A.

This should be interesting.

Stiles took the empty seat saved next to Scott and leaned over to whisper, “Dude, why the hell did you want to take this class again?”

It was Stiles’ sixth time asking this question, but Scott came up with a different answer every time, and he wanted to see what it would be today. What possible reason he could have for wanting to take Architecture 101 instead of, say, the super easy guitar class or pilates. Or maybe something more relevant to their lives, like mythology, or hell, cosmetology.

They were going to different colleges next year so they agreed to take an elective together, one last class, but of all the senior electives offered at Beacon Hills High School, the massive list of blow-off classes available, History of Cinema included—an architecture class.

Taught by Coach Finstock.

“Because it’s not Russian lit,” Scott shrugged, and flipped open a new notebook, with Arch 101 written on the cover in sharpie. “I’ve got enough reading to do with AP English.”

That was fair, Stiles allowed, but he was just petty enough to not mention the fact that people wrote entire treatises on architecture. He knew that much about the subject. There was going to be plenty of reading for this class, but Scott could figure that out for himself.

He threw one last look around at the other students, half of whom didn’t even have notebooks, and flipped open his own—not a new one, just the next free page of last semester’s English notebook. He wasn’t expecting to stay in this class for long.

As if to prove his point, Finstock burst in exactly six minutes late, with no supplies aside from his usual #1 Coach mug.

He put his mug on the desk, yanked down the projector screen, and smacked the overhead lights off.

“Architecture,” he started aggressively, and stabbed the remote towards the projector at the back of the room. The word appeared on the screen with nothing else.

“You might be wondering how old Coach is qualified to teach this class.” He chuckled to himself. “How am I not qualified? Seriously, it’s buildings. We spend every day of our lives in them, who couldn’t teach this class?”

He said it with such disdain that Stiles had to glance around the room to look for reaction cues. Everyone seemed to be somewhere between amused and wondering if Coach was having some kind of mid…ish life crisis. A couple people half-smiled, but most pretended to be riveted by that single white text on black Architecture slide.

Coach didn’t care and didn’t wait long before continuing on his spiel.

“But because this school allegedly requires some kind of proof to teach this class, I did my bachelors in architecture, right before I pulled my head out of my ass and got a master’s in economics.” He glared around the room. “Why did I waste my money on a useless architecture degree?” A chuckle. “Well first, college was way cheaper in the eighties—economics. And second, my grandfather designed this school.” He flipped to a slide of the building, taken at a crooked angle with an old camera phone.

“My father designed the post office. My brother put up that god awful highrise downtown.” His lip curled up in a brief snarl like the very thought of it disgusted him.

Stiles had to agree; Derek’s loft at the top of it was a safety inspector’s worst nightmare.

“My entire family is made up of architects. We built this town, as you can see from this list.”

The next slide was, indeed, three columns listing key buildings and addresses all over town, from the Sheriff’s Station to…

“Is that the Hale house?” Stiles asked before he thought better of it, recognizing an address halfway down the third column.

“We don’t talk about the Hale house,” Finstock immediately snapped. “My great great grandfather was a nutjob and 80% blind. He couldn’t design a second empire style house to save his life, and this one didn’t.” Slight pause for effect, staring down the room. “He died of tertiary syphilis two years later.”

A couple people shifted awkwardly, but Finstock continued.

“It’s a stain on both our family history and the entire history of architecture as a discipline. We don’t talk about it.” He glared around the room, daring anyone to continue. “Any questions?”

Dead silence, then Greenberg in the front row slowly raised his hand. Coach rolled his eyes, but nodded towards him.

“Why aren’t you an architect, Coach?”

Finstock looked at him for a long five seconds of unblinking silence before responding:

“Because any contractor with a computer program can throw together a McMansion in ten minutes with as many gables and columns as they can possibly cram in there, and they’re not going to pay an actual architect to tell them they shouldn’t.” He shrugged, in that agitated are you kidding me with this kind of way, and turned to the rest of the class. “Any questions that aren’t totally idiotic?”

Silence.

“Great.” He clicked to the next slide. “The Parthenon—get ready to hate the British.”

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St Paul, MN Noyes-McKay House by army.arch *Adam*
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On Summit Avenue with an interesting mix of Italianate and Second Empire styles. In the Historic Hill District, National Register #76001067.

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Annapolis, MD Victorian House by Larry Syverson
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I saw this Second Empire Victorian home in Annapolis, Maryland. It is a little different than most Second Empire houses in that it has a gable facing the street.

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Second Empire Home in Franklin by Allen Forrest
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Watson House, built c. 1881 in Franklin, Tennessee, in Second Empire, Victorian architectural style.

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