Bolted together

A sight I saw frquently in Chicago: old masonry buildings with bolts sticking out. Obviously recent additions, purpose to reinforce the structural integrity of the walls. The side of the historic Hotel Vendome is also bolted (above); it's a view I caught while having coffee at Cuppers one morning.

But one does do a double take when spotting the same sort of bolts pounded into a hillside cut, in this case over at the Peridot parking lot. No, I don't think the idea is that a few bolts will hold up a mountainside. However, the basalt looks to be pretty crumbly at this location, and the bolts presumably hold the chain link fencing in place to prevent rocks tumbling down into the drive and parking lot.

Plant Carnival: I submitted my post showing a collection of leaves to the monthly Berry-Go-Round botanical interest blog carnival and, lo and behold, was featured, complete to one of the pictures. Do pay a visit!

From armory to activities

That fortress-like building over on East Gurley? It was built as a quasi-fortress, being the National Guard Armory from its completion in November 1939 until the guard deeded it over to the City of Prescott in 1980. Today, it is officially the Grace Sparkes Activity Center, presided over by the Department of Parks & Recreation which also has its HQ in the structure. (FYI: the image below is enlarged from the historic photo on the plaque below.)

Ground was broken for the armory in March, 1936; the date tags the structure as a major local project from our country's last big stimulus program, the Works Progress Administration (WPA). Cost, $185 thou -- a far cry from the billions and trillions being thrown around with such abandon in Washington today. Too, I find myself wondering just how many unemployed citizens we could find who could undertake this kind of stone work these days?

The Activity Center is not a one-plaque but a two-plaque building. The second plaque honors Grace M. Sparkes, who was Secretary of the Prescott Chamber of Commerce from 1911 to 1945, during which time she was apparently a tireless (and successful) campaigner for projects that ranged from the Hassayampa Inn to the Armory, the hospital at Ft.Whipple to the Smoki Museum. Wearing another hat, Sparkes also directed WPA projects for Yavapai County during the Great Depression.
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Sructurally, the Center is reinforced concrete. The feel of massive stone was achieved with a stone facing. The plaque calls the facing ashlar granite, though seeing those layers suggests some sort of sandstone. However, I'm fortunate to own a copy of A Prescott Area Geologic Field Guide for Earth Science Week 1999, which explains that:

The grayish exterior walls with a faint purplish cast are of volcanic origin -- rhyolitic tuff -- stratified much like some sedimentary rocks. The tuff here is moderately welded and makes a durable building stone. [snip] The tuff was quarried a few miles north and west of Prescott beneath a basalt flow near the top of two hills south of Willow Creek (1,305,000N; 331,800E). The layer used as building stone is just ten feet thick.

The window lintels are of Coconino sandstone. The Field Guide points out: after one examines the textures of these two rocks under a 10x hand lens, there will seldom be mistaken identification again. Note the rounded sandstone grains as compared with the angular fragments in the tuff.

Finally, bringing us up-to-date -- a hurried smoke stashed in a hole in the rhyolitic tuff. BTW, I consulted The Google for a definition or description of ashlar granite, to no avail, though it's apparently a major building material around the world.

Rocks in an iron cage

Rocks in a cage -- how else to describe the unusual "multilithic" entrance to Yavapai College, our local community college. Certainly is an effective way to create a monument.

Neat view of the landscaping, which, in turn is quite neat.

Of course, the big question is what kind of rocks are those and where did they come from. Certainly not local; I don't believe we have that many reddish stones in the entire Prescott area. From a distance, I speculated a volcanic origin, but now, looking at the close-ups, my guess is sandstone trucked in from quarries up near Ash Fork. Either that or a spray paint job, which I kinda doubt.

Even with a bright sun, the rocks still match the rust of the wire cage holding them. Also, sandstone continuously gives off a reddish dust, which would help maintain a uniform color cast to the entire unit.

During my walk through the college sculpture garden, I spied a retaining wall also using caged rocks. However, in this case, the stones look like river rock; the only red is from the rust. I wonder, just incidentally, how long that wire will hold up. The LH and I were shocked at how fast iron rusts in the arid desert air; credit cold nights, which lead to early morning dew. And rust.

Linkage: Read all about it -- the dotter was quoted in the New York Times! Speaking of news -- what with a big election, the recession and swine flu, we havent been treated to any UFO reports for some little time. A remedy can be found at All News Web. For a fascinating potpouri, click on over to Environmental Graffiti; for superb scientific photography, the site to visit again and again is Photo Synthesis.

WWII gifts -- jeeps and Quonset huts

The tall, straight trees tell me that the picture below is from my Alaskan sojourn last summer. More to the point, it is one of many Quonset huts I photographed up in the Anchorage region. I had thought that a post on the subject might be interesting -- but hadn't realized quite how many I would find around the Prescott region. For some reason, my memory of the original Quonset huts identified them with the Alaska climate -- something about the shape shrugging off heavy snow loads.

That memory stinks, according to Wikipedia. I was right about the structures showing up early in WWII, but otherwise: a Quonset hut is a lightweight prefabricated structure of corrugated galvanised iron having a semicircular cross section. The design was based on the Nissen hut developed by the British during WW I. The name comes from their site of first manufacture, Quonset Point, at the Davisville Naval Construction Battalion Center in Davisville, RI. In 1941 the United States Navy needed an all-purpose, lightweight building that could be shipped anywhere and assembled without skilled labor. The first was produced within 60 days of contract award. Some 150-170,000 Quonset huts mushroomed across the land during the war; they were sold for $1000 each after the fighting stopped.

And while many of the originals are still in use, plenty of new huts are still being manufactured. As an example, this much smaller Quonset of corrugated steel and fiberglass is out at the alpaca farm I visited with LindaG and her husband just before Christmas. It serves as a shelter and shearing facility for the animals.

This Chino Valley barn looks as though it would fold up, accordian-wise, from front to back. Looks to be a bit newer than that lovely vintage pick-up truck. Elsewhere in Chino, there's a curious Quonset hut, near Road 40 North, I believe. Visible from SR89, the Quonset section is long and windowless; however, it is fronted by what looks like a two-story apartment building. As you can imagine, the LH andI did a lot of speculation about what went on in that Quonset: a marijuana crop? A huge family basketball court? What???

This little garden shed is visible from a nearby alley; it appears to be made from greenhouse cloth, stretched into the familiar Quonset shape.

Here's one of the more high profile Quonset huts here in Prescott -- the Plumbing Store on Miller Valley. Like many, it has been modified, in this case with a second "floor." Just for windows and light or are there small offices squeezed in up there?

Olsen's is another of the well known retailers located in a Quonset hut. Looks quite busy -- unlike the Sheldon Street used car lot that's complete empty (below).

My flaky remembery reminds me that there was absolutely no prefab building industry prior to the arrival of the Quonset hut back in 19-aught-41, at least in this country. I also recall that old military surplus buildings were bought by my college (among many) for use as married student housing. While we may shrug at the idea of a giant half-tube as a building nowadays, they were considered quite weird when I was in my teens. Change -- it happens!

Big box ceilings

Architecturally, modern big box store design has little to recommend. However, I've discovered that the ceilings are another matter entirely. I looked overhead one day at the accursed Lowe's and immediately began a collection of ceiling photography. A big skylit nursery shed is particularly cool.

The view inside the store proper. I'd like to think that we're looking at an interior almost entirely lit by skylights, but I'm sure that isn't the case. No doubt banks of neons.

The nursery shed at WalMart West.

WalMart doesn't waste their ceiling structures -- very useful for hanging signs (above) and strings of bicycles (below).

I'm glad to have found another positive aspect of the big box monsters besides price.

I Want One: Just finished looking at a video of Micro$oft Surface, which combines the computer screen with the table top so that a bunch of people sitting around drinking beer, say, can pass Jpegs or documents from one to another -- or open an earth view to zoom in on their favorite saloon. Sounds like an app that would be perfect for a bar or a coffee house (or classroom), for that matter. Also worth checking out: a new blog that has just moved over to ScienceBlogs: it's called Eruptions; you can guess the subject matter. Also see: Arizona's Volcanic Past, though its coverage is spotty (i.e., nothing about our own homegrown volcano between Prescott and PV or the many lava topped mesas in Yavapai County, such as Big Bug high up in the Bradshaws.)

Building or block or both?

I am disabused.

Of what? Of the idea that the English talk of apartment blocks is a strange use of the language. I had never heard of any individual buildings in this country referred to as blocks (even tho I went through a brief period of Chicago-style architectural snobbery like many callow youths). All that was long before I came to Prescott, started walking its streets and looked just a little more carefully at what I thought I was seeing. Lo and behold, I have recently discovered that there are two early-1900s buildings downtown that proudly call themselves the Union Block (above) and the Raible Block.

The Union Block is on Gurley, right across from the Courthouse; the brick facade appears to be the original brick facing, unlike the Raible Block at 114 N. Cortez Street. I suppose we can be thankful that the original brickwork above its entrance was retained even as the remainder of the building suffered bland modernization. There might be yet another building that characterizes itself as a block; if so, I may be lucky enough to locate it.

I wuz memed!

What's this all about, you ask. It's Kate's fault, it is, the Kate who gardens up in the high, high cold country of Utah. She to whom I owe thanks for a big batch of hollyhock seeds that arrived in Arizona via Alaska; seeds even now in the earth to catch the winter rains.

So the instructions are thus: go to the 6th folder (determined how?) and select the 6th image & essay a brief essay about that picture. Since I didn't want to wind up with some obscure Macintosh-ish app as my source folder, I made life easy & selected my blog folder for starters. Every folder within contains pictures, carefully categorized (more or less). Folder number 6 turned out to be one named "arched windows" and the above picture of the one-time Wells Fargo office was .jpg number 6 in the folder. I think I actually had better images, without the cars in the foreground, but instructions are instructions.

Needless to say, that folder of arched window pictures containes very little that is contemporary. Such labor-intensive commercial decor is very much a thing of the past. It may be pleasing to the eye, but not to the comptroller. I look at that picture and realize that other windows, not only those with arches. are made so as to let in plenty of light. They represent a period when electricity was less ubiquitous, when one had to depend upon the sun and skylight for much interior illumination.

Me, I like big windows, tall windows, arched windows. All the better to see the sky, the trees, the birds, the clouds (including contrails!) and what little rain or snow falls.

Reviewing The Crossings

I've a new MD I've been visiting, which has taken me into the heart of The Crossings, the massive professional/commercial development on the west side of Willow Creek Road as you approach the creek crossing (hence, obviously enough, the name.)

My first observation has to do with the keynote style, which appears to be some sort of retro 1920s quasi-Egyptian-renaissance architecture. It's those columns that do the trick. But very modern Prescott, too, with plenty of stone work. Definitely not ticky-tacky.

What I hadn't realized was the scale of the development. It's huge. Room for lots of doctors, shrinks, financial advisors (if any are left six months from now) and similar professionals. I believe that there's even a gallery in one of those buildings, if you can find it in the middle of a lot of buildings that look very much alike. BTW, the mesa and the houses in the background of the picture below are across Willow Creek Road from the development.

Proper arid country landscaping, featuring a variety of decorative grasses, attractive in winter as well as in greener seasons. Very handsome individually, but the total arrangement is perhaps all a little too deliberate for my tastes.

As I said, the size of The Crossings is close to overwhelming -- and yet they continue to build! I wonder what its fate, what it will look like 20 or 40 or 75 years from now. Like so many carefully planned developments, it lacks the spark of individuality. Likely a thumbs down from Jane Jacobs, she of The Life and Death of Great American Cities.

Corrugated construction

Visiting Louisiana, I was surprised at the number of respectable houses in upscale neighborhoods with corrugated steel roofs. Lasts longer in a wet, semi-tropical climate, my Sson explained; "eminently practical." Not so, here in the egalitarian west, where corrugated says shed, unless it's on a river bottom tar paper shack.

Certainly the case here in Prescott, where there's a fair amount of corrugated iron to be seen if (and only if) you occasionally prowl the alleys as I do. Some in good shape, some that has seen much better days.

Corrugated iron was good enough for older garages or workshops, though the desert dew really brings out the inherent rust.

Of course, these old-fashioned iron structures are a photographer's delight. Not just the rust, but also a good dose of paint, peeling artistically.

Not to overlook the pattern possibilities of all those parallel dark and light lines. One of these days, I'll show you some of the Louisiana corrugated.