Connecting the dots...

For part three of this series, we’re off to find the missing link between Granville’s great entrepreneur and philanthropist Alfred Avery and celebrated architect Minard Lafever along with gifted builder Benjamin Morgan, builder of St Luke’s and Avery’s own house at 221 E. Broadway. How did these three men come to know each other? We know that Avery, Lafever, and Morgan were instrumental leaders in the building of St Luke’s and we know that Alfred Avery was a major player in the financing and building of the Ohio canal system. These two facts present a reasonable solution to the missing link in an important story for the history of Granville and the Avery family, so hang on for a ride through exciting conjecture!

On July 4th, 1825 construction began on the Ohio and Erie Canal. That day the Canal Board of Commissioners, settlers, mounted cavalry, a marching militia, and a large crowd gathered east of Newark to dedicate the first shovel of dirt. Among the many present were Governor Morrow of Ohio, Governor Clinton of New York State, and Canal Commissioner Alfred Kelley. Alfred Kelley was the celebrated first Mayor of Cleveland, a State Representative, and the genius behind Ohio’s canal system. He had been “pushing for canal bills through the state legislature, had personally surveyed land, signed contracts, and kept diligent records.” (http://touringohio.com/profiles/alfred-kelley.html). He was one of the most important figures in 19th century Ohio. Alfred Avery of Granville, also a canal financier, was almost certainly present that day having held a large sum of money in contracts to build the canal and would have wanted to see the beginning of his investment with all the fanfare and celebrated personalities present.

Not long after the canal was completed in 1833, Alfred Kelley began planning for his stately residence on East Broad Street in Columbus (just east of the current Franklin County Building by Frank Packard). He had recently relocated from Cleveland to serve the state legislature. His new home was to be built entirely of Berea sandstone in the Grecian Ionic style, one of the few entirely stone Grecian buildings west of the Appalachian range. It showcased three in-antis (recessed) two-story porches on the north, west, and east facades, and one pro-stylos (projected) two-story portico on the south side facing Broad Street. Each of these was accomplished with signature Illisus Temple Ionic columns, just like those on the Avery-Downer House except in stone.

The Robbins Hunter Museum in the Avery-Downer House, 2016

All records indicate that Kelley was his own architect on the project. Grecian pattern books were readily available and Kelley did see much Grecian architecture on his travels. But the sophistication of this design is from the hand of a trained architect. For one, the square plan with in-antis porches was uncommon and only found at the time delineated by British architect James Gibbs in his 1728 “Book of Architecture” (plate 67). The unique plan is found in some country houses of England, France, and Palladio’s 16th century Italy, but it was not utilized in domestic architecture in the United States in the 18th or 19th centuries except in one 18th century house of Benjamin Latrobe. The point being that a 19th century layman—even with all the time and architectural interest at his disposal—would have relied on a classically trained architect to propose and develop such a unique plan. The classical details of the house, including the Ionic porches, happen to be signature elements of none other than St Luke’s architect Minard Lafever who had the sophistication to develop such a plan as well. At the time, he was in practice in New York, had just published his Grecian pattern book “The Modern Builder’s Guide”, and was all the rage. He had many resources (Ithiel Town’s immense architectural library was at his disposal in NYC) and would have been familiar with all the European precedents. Did Alfred Kelley meet with Lafever in New York and discuss plans for his new house? Abbot Lowell Cummings, who wrote a brief history of Alfred Kelley and the Kelley Mansion (The Alfred Kelley House of Columbus, Ohio, 1953), implies that both Nathan Kelly (Ohio Statehouse architect) and Minard Lafever did influence the design.

The Kelley Mansion: courtesy of Ohio History Connection, image OM1902_1984372_001

Kelley’s house was well-known in Columbus. It was just blocks from the Statehouse and was frequently the site of gatherings during campaigns, conventions, speeches, and rallies. Mr. and Mrs. Kelley hosted many guests, some of whom were linked to Mr. Kelley’s interests including the canal system.

So, here is the conjecture and we can just leave it at that. But it is very interesting. It is reasonable to assume that from 1830 Alfred Kelley and Alfred Avery met on more than one occasion to review the on-going operations and success of their mutual interests in the Ohio and Erie Canal system. Alfred Avery and Alfred Kelley shared another common interest in classical architecture and might have engaged in long discussions about architecture, architects, and craftsmen, looking through pattern books and contemporary Grecian designs. Kelley might have shown Avery the plans for his new Grecian home. The names of Minard Lafever and Benjamin Morgan might have been presented, for Alfred Avery was just starting his building campaign at St Luke’s and needed a good architect and builder. Benjamin Morgan was already working on the new Statehouse in 1835 (around the corner from Kelley’s house) when he accepted Alfred Avery’s invitation to build St Luke’s. The beauty of the new temple house of his acquaintance Alfred Kelley and the beauty of the new church of St. Luke’s most certainly influenced his decision to rely on Minard Lafever and Benjamin Morgan for the design of his own Ionic temple at 221 E. Broadway.

St. Luke's Episcopal Church, Granville, OH

In the end, it is notable that both of these great houses project similar themes. The Alfred Kelley House sports a two-story Grecian Ionic temple portico in sandstone, the Alfred Avery House sports a portico almost identical to Kelley’s but in wood. The Alfred Kelley House incorporates a unique centralized floor plan found only in obscure precedent, the Alfred Avery House incorporates a unique temple arrangement with Doric, Ionic, Corinthian assembled like no other in the US. Both houses point to the sophistication and talent of Minard Lafever. Both houses celebrate the intellect and brilliance of two Ohioans who had the foresight to do great things for our state and leave us with the gift of beautiful architecture. Unfortunately, the Kelley House was demolished in 1961 and its stones are gathered on the grounds of Hale Farm and Village near Peninsula, Ohio. We are so grateful that the Avery-Downer House stands and continues to inspire the world with its beauty.

Welcome to our house

Editor’s Note: This article is the second of three articles on the Avery-Downer House and its architecture by William Heyer, Architect

What is so special about the front entry at the Avery-Downer House? And oh, how it is special. Let’s jump into this one! First, we must ask: what is the purpose of entrance? What does that purpose signify?

Builder, Benjamin Morgan, copied the Tower of the Winds in Athens as the entrance to the Avery-Downer house.

The front entrance primarily allows an engagement with the world: with friends, relatives, neighbors, police, enemy troops, etc. There is a story about the front entry at Belle Meade plantation outside of Nashville. During the Civil War, the owner, General William Giles Harding, was captured by the Union army and sent to prison in Michigan while Mrs. Elizabeth Harding maintained this stately Grecian mansion. At one point during General Harding’s distant captivity, a Union troop approached the house. Mrs. Harding stepped out of her front entry onto the covered, columned portico with shotgun in hand. She warned the troops not to move an inch closer and then fired a warning shot. She gained the respect she needed from the troops and managed to keep the moral reputation of her family intact, eventually allowing only a field hospital to be set up in the house. The front entry is where we engage civilization beyond our family in peace and war.

Since ancient times, the entrance to houses, temples, mausoleums, and civic buildings have symbolized an engagement with the world, the cosmos, the other side of death, the body politic. “Crossing over” has intense meaning for us. It is a transformation in one way or another, a progression into the future, a conversion, a symbol of freedom or welcome, and a way forward to things previously unknown and unseen. The great pylons of ancient Egypt were the gateway to the netherworld and the eternal memory of the pharaoh. The propylaea of Hellenistic Greece were gateways to the precinct of the gods, a symbolic threshold to the divine world. Tombs, government buildings, houses all carried on this symbolism in ways that reflected the timeless beliefs of humanity and its ultimate goals. That is why house entries are so powerful, and so decorated. We welcome the visitor with a symbol of who we are as a family and invite others over a threshold to a world that is not their own.

During the first half of the 19th century, a new emphasis on the front entry was at work. The Grecian movement, through the talent of young architects like James Dakin and James Gallier, produced amazing frontispieces for churches and houses throughout the country. They utilized the classical language through the newly discovered architectural traditions of ancient Greece. James Dakin’s drawings for frontispieces appeared in builder’s guides by Minard Lafever and were disseminated widely revealing a mastery of the classical language that was at once both ancient and new, recognizable for its precedent and exciting for its unique compositions. The frontispiece of the Avery-Downer house is clearly modeled on one of the designs by Dakin but is a unique interpretation of the classical frontispiece.

In 1842 when Alfred Avery was planning and designing his home on East Broadway, he certainly had in mind a timeless and yet personal sense of entry. The frontispiece surrounding the main north door is a masterpiece of Grecian design. It might seem redundant, interestingly, that a temple house should have an especially decorated doorway when it has the power of the Ionic temple speaking so clearly to the public. In reality, the two are quite opposite each other because the Ionic temple projects in an active way to engage the public while the frontispiece seems to fold inwards in a passive and receptive way. They both balance each other with their distinct purposes. One is strong and active, the other is gentle and receptive. This is a brilliant showcase of the refined classical tradition in American architecture.

The exquisite lotus flower foliage is picked out with gold leaf paint

Morgan and Lafever used the Corinthian order as found at the Tower of the Winds in Athens to celebrate this gentle, welcoming frontispiece. The ancient water clock at the center of Athens was documented by James Stuart and Nicholas Revett in their 1762 landmark publication The Antiquities of Athens, but it was not widely utilized for new designs in the Greek Revival Movement, at least not like the Parthenon or Temple of Athena Nike or Temple on the Illisus. Its unique placement here makes the entry to the Avery-Downer house even more beautiful. The gentle acanthus capitals and shaft fluting, the feminine antae (the side piers that flank the columns), and running palmettes in the frieze, and the soft acanthus tendrils in the transom above the door all welcome the visitor to a wonderful Eden to be enjoyed inside. The garden motif is certainly intentional and likely had personal as well as religious connotations for Avery and his family.

The Grecian Movement is seen today by some architectural critics as the worst kind of architecture—copying ancient monuments blindly to signify a past that is no longer relevant to our world. The enduring beauty of the frontispiece of this house is but one small example of why these critics are so out of touch today with the timelessness and beauty of the human spirit.

Temples in the hinterland

Editor’s Note: This article is the first of three articles on the Avery-Downer House and its architecture in this 175th anniversary of the building.  Bill Heyer is a classical architect from Columbus who has long been actively involved at the Robbins Hunter Museum. As a member of the Board in the early 2000's, he created measured drawings of the interior and exterior of the building and researched appropriate finishes. More recently, he designed the Knobel Folly, an appropriate addition to the Jill Griesse garden.  On May 5, he will lead a walking tour of downtown Granville with emphasis on Avery-Downer House and St. Luke's Church.

Why did Alfred Avery build a Greek temple for a house? Granville had a tradition of building classical wood clapboard, brick and stone houses dating back to before its founding as a village, but none of these was such a temple! It is really kind of shocking, come to think of it, that the hinterland of the young United States would come to be dotted in the 1840’s with Greek temples that farmers, bankers, millers, and entrepreneurs would live in!

The notion that a young family would live in a Greek temple in America is quite reasonable and beautiful, actually. These young Americans in the first half of the 19th century prided themselves on their new democratic republic—a form of self-government that had its origins in ancient Greece. These young Americans also believed in individual rights quite apart from any monarchy, aristocracy, or other system of oppressive government. Hence, man was a special creature, endowed by the Creator with rights and value above and beyond royalty.

In a way, a farmer living in a Greek temple on his fertile and utopian property in Ohio or upstate New York was a symbol of the integrity, autonomy, economy, and sacred value of the human person. Wow, yes, even farmers knew they had as much value—if not more—as human beings than the monarchs of old England or France. They wished to celebrate it in their lives and especially their homes.

For the 20 years before Avery built his temple, there actually was a so-called classical revival in Ohio wherein temples—albeit somewhat clumsy and delicate—were indeed built as houses. Travel to Norwalk and see the 1835 Sturgis-Kennan-Fulstow House with its odd elongated octagonal piers, or in Cincinnati visit the 1820 Sinton-Taft house (Taft Museum) with its elongated columns spread like curtains in pairs. Jonathan Goldsmith in Cleveland had built several of these temple houses also, but this style was fairly uncommon.

In the 1820’s and 1830’s, thanks to the recent rediscovery of Greece and the publication of its ancient temples, Greek temple houses became all the rage in places like upstate New York; from Randolph near Chautauqua to Geneva in the Finger Lakes Region (see the fantastic Rose Hill Mansion), to Syracuse, Troy, and on to Albany and into New England. It was popular also in eastern Pennsylvania (see the great Andalusia estate near Philadelphia) and around the Mid-Atlantic and into the South. Greek temples began to be seen in Columbus with designs of the Alfred Kelley House (1836), the State Capitol (1839), and the Columbus Lunatic Asylum (1838), all of which Alfred Avery would have been familiar with through his travels and business ventures.

Alfred Avery began his entrepreneurial career in Granville as a drover taking livestock to eastern markets like his future business partner and brother-in-law Lucius Mower. On their travels, they would have seen some of the stately Greek Revival mansions being built and possibly had come in contact with other businessmen who were commissioning their own temple houses. Further, they quite possibly would have been introduced to the architectural pattern books of Asher Benjamin, John Haviland and others that were widely disseminated in the early 19th century. From all accounts, the tradition of grand domestic architecture was something any young aspiring entrepreneur like Avery would have been interested in at this time.

Later, Avery, in business partnership with Lucius Mower and others, established a furnace works, a grist mill, and a near majority contract in the new 1827 canal system that extended from Cleveland to Newark. And, although at this time he had been living in two other houses on Broadway, it was this canal venture that quite possibly fixed Avery’s goal for building not just a grand Grecian house, but a temple house on East Broadway.

Avery came to acquire the double lot at 221 E. Broadway about 1837, about the same time he helped organize and complete a building campaign for his own church, St. Luke’s Episcopal. Avery would have been instrumental in the selection of architect Minard Lafever and craftsman Benjamin Morgan to guide the congregation through the design and building process, the result of which was an outstanding example of ecclesiastical Grecian architecture. Avery subsequently hired Morgan to design and build his own home, introducing Granville to the new Grecian temple house. Benjamin Morgan, for all that is known, had not built a temple house before although he was familiar with Lafever’s temple house designs from pattern books. Lafever himself—although there is no evidence for this—may have communicated with Avery and/or Morgan about the design of the house as he had for St Luke’s.

But, wait. There is something missing here! How did Avery find and select Lafever and Morgan in the first place? What was the connection that put these men together for the building of arguably the two most important architectural landmarks in the village of Granville? This is where the canal venture just may have played a decisive role in bringing Alfred Avery, Minard Lafever, and Benajmin Morgan together.

To be continued!