
An elegant little Gothic chapel with a bit of Art Deco flair. The stained glass inside shows Charity distributing gifts to Music, Drama, and the Arts.

An elegant little Gothic chapel with a bit of Art Deco flair. The stained glass inside shows Charity distributing gifts to Music, Drama, and the Arts.
The mausoleum itself is tasteful, but not particularly distinguished. The stained glass inside, however, is signed by F. X. (Franz Xavier) Zettler of the Royal Bavarian Stained-Glass Manufactory, Munich, and it is an extraordinary piece of art.
This gorgeous Pre-Raphaelite window is at the back of the George J. Schmitt mausoleum in the Union Dale Cemetery, where the rich and influential of Allegheny City went to slumber in eternal style. Its Grail imagery seems to combine two forms of the Grail legend (the Grail as cup of the Last Supper and the grail as mystical jewel). The legend below reads, “Unto thee O Lord do I lift up my soul.”
Anyone worth knowing in the Union Dale cemetery has stained glass in his mausoleum. In fact, for a while in the early 1900s, it was fashionable to have a portrait of the deceased rendered in glass.
Here, for example, is Mr. William H. Walker (1841-1904), who was apparently a proud Shriner. His portrait has deteriorated a little, but not so much that you would not recognize him at once if you met him in the street.
Mr. William H.Teets (1845-1906; perhaps stained-glass portraits were offered only to men named William H.) has also deteriorated a little, but the portrait is still lifelike enough that you can almost feel the macassar oil.
Cherubs and lilies adorn the mausoleum of the McLain family. The cherubs’ faces seem to be executed with a degree of skill that the rest of the composition lacks; perhaps they were ordered from a catalogue.
The Enlow-Schwer mausoleum, built in the late 1930s, affects a more abstract symbolism.
Finally, a Good Shepherd window, which could probably be ordered in standard sizes from national dealers, adorns the Short mausoleum.
There are some who would question the wisdom, or the taste, of building an extravagant monument to the memory of the deceased. Father Pitt would like to suggest, however, that money laid out on art that is still giving us pleasure after a century is hardly misspent.
In Pittsburgh the Egyptian style of architecture was briefly popular in the early twentieth century, almost always in association with death. The mausoleums in Egyptian style seem usually to belong to Masons, who trace their lodge and rituals back to the days of the Pharaohs, implausible as that may seem to Egyptologists. Some integrate Christian, Masonic, and Egyptian symbols rather uncomfortably.
We begin with the Hartley-Given mausoleum (1913).
This is a simple and straightforward interpretation of an Egyptian tomb, and we can see the elements that, in the Allegheny Cemetery, almost invariably mark the Egyptianness of the style: the sloping sides and the lotus columns. Over the entrance we usually find a winged scarab entwined by serpents—which Father Pitt believes is a Masonic symbol; perhaps a Mason will correct him if he is wrong.
Next, the Lockhart mausoleum (1903):
Here is another typical Egyptian-tomb design, again with the requisite Egyptian signifiers; but in this one the porch projects from the structure instead of being inset.
The Sproal-Splane mausoleum (1917) is another variation on the same theme, with all the same elements and another inset porch:
Inside is a window that seems like a riot of symbols uneasily coexisting:
(The inscription around the cross and crown reads “IN HOC SIGNO VINCES.”)
All these are in reasonably good taste. But there is one Egyptian mausoleum that proudly flaunts its kitsch, one of the most extraordinary memorials in a cemetery full of extraordinary memorials:
All the same elements are there, but the Winter mausoleum (1930)—whose colossal scale is hard to convey in a photograph—adds its own unique accessories. John Russell Pope, the famous beaux-arts architect, designed this mausoleum for banker Emil Winter—but “designed” is not really the right word here. The Woolworth mausoleum in Woodlawn, the Bronx, is nearly identical; Winter apparently saw it and told Pope “I want that,” and Pope gave it to him.
Mr. Winter’s amazing sphinxes bear an expression that old Pa Pitt can only describe as “snooty.”
The bronze door depicts Mr. Winter himself, large as life and in full Pharaonic regalia, about to set off for his journey into the afterlife. Even this is identical to the bronze door of the Woolworth mausoleum, except for the substitution of Mr. Winter’s face.
Inside is a stained-glass window that reminds Father Pitt of cheap illustrated Sunday-school handouts, showing Mr. Winter properly enthroned. (It was devilishly hard to get a picture of this window, because the front doors are actually backed by a mesh screen. This was the best old Pa Pitt could do.)
Finally, as a coda to our little Egyptian tour, the Huhn monument is actually a pyramid.
This is a pyramid of a curiously specific type: it is (if Father Pitt’s architectural history is correct, and he loves to be corrected when he is wrong) a Roman interpretation of the Egyptian pyramid, with proportions more like those of the Pyramid of Cestius along the Appian Way than like those of a true Egyptian pyramid. This also is a Mason’s tomb; if you enlarge the picture (by clicking on it), you can see the Masonic symbols at the base.
This extraordinarily tasteful Renaissance octagon (built in 1925) is so unusual that Father Pitt suspects it may be based on a historical model. He would be delighted if one of his readers could find the original and point it out to him. John Robison McCune III was a banker, head of one of the biggest banks in the city (Union National, which after being devoured by Integra and National City is now part of PNC).
The interior is as elegant as the exterior. McCune took nothing of his private life with him to the grave—no Masonic or even religious symbols. His mausoleum, including the exceptionally fine window, is dedicated solely to beauty.