Horace Trumbauer, architect
1890
Eakins Oval - Washington Monument
1891
Old York Road - Colton Residence
1893 circa
4000-4016 Spruce Street
1894
1915 N. Broad Street
Grey Towers
1895
Church Road - Curtis Residence
1896
3910 Chestnut Street - Connelly Residence
Whitemarsh - Zion Evangelical Lutheran Church
1897
434 Crescent Road, Cheltenham - Rebmann House, Breezewood
1898
Ashbourne Road - Elkins Residence/Chelten House
Elkins Park - Elstowe
1900 circa
1421 Walnut Street
1900
1232 Chestnut Street - apartment house
1226 Walnut Street - St. James Hotel
1903
920 Spring Avenue - Lynnewood Hall
1902
1629 Locust Street - Knight Residence
Huntingdon Pike and Robbins Avenue - school
1905
229 S. 22nd Street - Bell Residence
213 S. 16th Street - Racquet Club of Philadelphia
231 S. 22nd Street - Samuel House
1734 Spruce Street - Taylor Residence
1906
249 N. Broad Street - Gordon Furniture Company
40th and Market Streets - Hamiton Trust Co.
1907
33rd and Spruce Street - White Training House
1909
Manheim Street and Wayne Avenue - three residences
15th Street - Union League
1910
3812 Walnut Street - Eisenlohn Residence
1418 Walnut Street - George A. Huhn And Sons
1911
Elkins Park - Tyler Residence, Georgian Terrace
1912
1229-1237 Chestnut Street - Binder Building
Laurel Hill Cemetery - Eisenlohr Brothers Mausoleum
1912-13
123 Chesnut Street - Corn Exchange National Bank
1914
1 S. Penn Square - Widener Building
1916
130 N. Broad Street - Autocar Building
1200 Chestnut Street - Beneficial Savings Fund Society
2037 Locust Street - Carstairs Residence
1920
1510 Chestnut Street - Corn Exchange Bank
17th and Cherry Streets - Sun Oil Company Building
Whitemarsh Hall (1917-1920)
1922
Greenwood Avenue and Church Road - Martin Residence
1923 circa - 1945
6500 Wissahickon Avenue
1924
822 Chestnut Street - Benj. Franklin Hotel
1801 Spring Garden Street - Fifth Baptist Church
600 Chestnut Street - Public Ledger Building
1925
1405 Locust Street - Equitable Trust Building
1901 Vine Street - Free Library of Philadelphia
1926
17th and Walnut Streets - Colonial Trust Company
1928
1900 Locust Street - Chateau Crillon
291 Keswick Avenue - Keswick Theater
2601 N. Broad Street - Reading Station
Philadelphia Museum of Art
201 S. Broad Street - Ritz-Carlton Hotel
1929
Broad and Synder Streets - Beneficial Savings Fund Society
1931
Jenkintown reading Train Station
1932
West Laurel Hill Cemetery - Berwind Mausoleum
West Laurel Hill Cemetery - Develon Mausoleum
Fairmount Park - fountain
3401 Spruce Street - Irvine Auditoium
1934
826 E. Alleghany Avenue - Beneficial Savings Found Society
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Twelve Mad Monarchs
King George III once walked over to an oak tree, shook hands with one of its branches and chatted to it for several minutes. The King thought he was talking to the King of Prussia.
Princess Alexandria of Bavaria believed she swallowed a grand piano as a child and kept up this belief until she dies.
King Ludwig II of Bavaria decreed that day was night and night was day and had a moon painted on his bedroom ceiling.
Prince Otto - Ludwig II's youngest brother decided that the only way to keep his sanity while Ludwig reigned was to shoot a peasant a day. He shot peasants working in his garden.
Catherine The Great of Russia imprisoned her hairdresser for three years to stop him spreading the news that she had dandruff.
Queen Juana of Spain went mad when her husband Philip died. She refused to let him be buried and had his coffin accompany her wherever she travelled.
King Fedinand II of Sicily would only allow his face to be used on stamps if franking marks were never placed on his image.
Prince Philip of Calabria was mad about gloves - and wore up to 16 pairs at once.
King Charles VI of France was convinced he was made of glass and refused to travel by coach in case the vibrations caused him to shatter into a thousand pieces.
King Henry Christophe of Northern Haiti forced his guards to prove their loyalty by marching off a 200ft cliff. Those who refused were executed.
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posted Sunday 21 March 2004
Veterans Stadium comes down without a hitch
By Larry Eichel
Inquirer Staff Writer
All that remains of Veterans Stadium, where the Phillies and Eagles played for more than three decades, is a vast pit ringed by shattered concrete and mangled steel.
On the edge of the pit, a ticket window remains in one spot, strangely untouched. In other places, stumps of the outer pillars yet stand, some erect, others leaning inward.
Elsewhere, there is nothing to suggest that once there was a 62,000-seat sports arena at Broad Street and Pattison Avenue.
Precisely at 7 a.m. today, the Vet was imploded. The event took 62 seconds.
A barrage of 2,800 separate explosions, racing clockwise around the stadium at nearly 30 m.p.h., made the shell of the gutted structure collapse inward upon itself.
An elevator tower on the north side seemed, initially, to resist the power of all that nitroglycerin, remaining intact for a second or two as the brunt of the implosion went past. But in the end, it, too, tumbled to the ground.
Even the wind cooperated. It carried the thick, brown dust cloud due east, sparing nearby residential neighborhoods and covering the new Citizens Bank Park, where the Phillies are to start playing baseball in less than two weeks.
"It was as if the gods were spreading the ashes of the old park on the new one," said a teary Bill Giles, the Phillies chairman.
As the implosion's planners repeatedly had promised, the blast appeared not to have done any damage to the 225 homes closest to the site, those located in the area bounded by Broad, 13th and Geary Streets and Pattison Avenue.
"Anyone who puts in a damage claim is going to be laughed at," said Ron Conti, 59, who watched the implosion from his home on 13th Street. "There were no tremors, nothing. Even the noise wasn't as loud as I thought it would be."
One reason the implosion was designed to last a minute, an extremely long time by industry standards, was to minimize the ground vibrations and thus any risk of broken windows or cracked foundations.
And much of the innards of the stadium had been stripped away and hauled out in advance, thereby reducing the impact and keeping down the dust.
Spectators by the thousands turned out to witness the implosion on a cold, gray morning. They watched from the official viewing area on the south side of Packer Avenue, from two nearby hotels in South Philadelphia, from Center City high-rises and from across the Delaware River in New Jersey.
Hundreds more, eager for a close vantage point, poured onto the westbound lanes of Interstate 76 near the Walt Whitman Bridge the moment police closed the highway to traffic.
The official ceremony, set up by the Phillies, who had the responsibility for demolishing the city-owned stadium, was brief and almost perfunctory.
Phillies president David Montgomery spoke, saluting the old facility. Mayor Street called the event historic and a sign of progress for Philadelphia.
The Eagles, who had left the Vet after their 2002 season and have never exhibited much fondness for the place, did not participate.
With Street providing the countdown, the Phillie Phanatic and former Phillie slugger Greg "the Bull" Luzinski pushed a ceremonial red plunger, labeled "The Final Bull Blast." The actual buttons were pushed by two demolition workers, identified as Stephen Bill and Frank Bardanoro.
Street shouted, "Fire! Fire!" Then, the real show began. A minute later, it was over.
"It was probably the most incredible implosion I've ever seen," said Steve Pettigrew, vice president of operations for Demolition Dynamics, the Tennessee-based company that performed it. "And I've been in this business for 27 years.
"The breakage inside the bowl is tremendous. On the south side, some of the debris is five feet below grade, which will make life easier for the next phase of work."
That next phase, which will be carried out by Brandenburg Industrial Service Co., calls for the steel to be removed and the concrete to be crushed in place - so that the site can be converted into 5,500 spaces for parking by fall.
On the parking lot, once finished, will be several reminders of the old stadium, including the painted outline of where the infield was and granite markers for the bases, the pitcher's mound and home plate.
Conceived in the 1960s, the Vet was the largest of a family of round and nearly round, municipally owned outdoor arenas. The design allowed these stadiums to accommodate both baseball and football, although neither very well.
Hailed as state-of-the-art at its birth, it was much-maligned in its final years, castigated for its artificial turf as well as its lack of character, intimacy or creature comforts.
The people from Demolition Dynamics spent two months figuring out how to do away with the stadium, then two months on site, drilling 2,800 holes for the 3,000 pounds of explosives.
To prevent any premature explosions, they refrained from loading the nitroglycerin until last Monday and waited until Thursday to start installing more than four miles of detonation cord. They didn't tie it all together until the wee hours of this morning.
In the end, the implosion went exactly as planned.
The blasts in each of the 103 remaining columns around the Vet's shell - one had been removed in advance by conventional means - started on the inside at the bottom, moved rapidly to the outside, then up.
This caused the shell to fold forward onto what had been the 200-level seating area.
And it brought to an end the life of Veterans Stadium: dedicated April 4, 1971, demolished March 21, 2004.
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Every few years or so, something wonderful happens: all five naked-eye planets appear in the evening sky at the same time. You can walk outside after dinner, and without any kind of telescope, see Mercury, Venus, Mars, Saturn, and Jupiter.
Now, in 2004, is one of those times.
The show begins on March 22nd at sundown. Find a place where you can see the western horizon, and before the sky fades completely black, start looking for Mercury. It's that bright "star" shining through the rosy glow of the setting Sun. Can't find it? Use the Moon as a guide: On March 22nd Mercury will lie directly below the crescent Moon. Simple!
From Mercury, trace an imaginary line straight up. In order you'll see brilliant Venus, dimmer red Mars, and yellow Saturn. Behind your back hovers Jupiter, brighter than all the others except Venus.
Venus is, in fact, absurdly bright. It will be the first thing you notice when you go outside. Many people mistake glaring Venus for a UFO or a landing airplane, but if you watch for a few moments, you'll see it doesn't move or blink like a UFO or airplane. It really is a planet.
Venus is so bright that it can be seen in broad daylight--if you know where and when to look. March 24th is a good time to try, because the crescent Moon and Venus will be side by side. During the day, try scanning around the Moon using a pair of binoculars. When you find Venus it will seem to pop out of the blue--a pleasant surprise
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Samuel Ball Platner (as completed and revised by Thomas Ashby): A Topographical Dictionary of Ancient Rome, London: Oxford University Press, 1929.
DOMUS VALERIORUM: (1) on the Caelian, on the site occupied now by the Ospedale dell' Addolorata, where many remains of pavements, frescoes, and works of art have been found (LS iii.69; BC 1890, 288 ff.; 1902 145-163; NS 1902, 268, 356, 463, 509; 1903, 59, 92), and eleven inscriptions (CIL vi.1684-1694; PT 292) relating to the family in the fourth century. This house was offered for sale in 404 A.D., but found no buyer on account of its magnificence, while six years later, after the sack of Rome by Alaric, it was sold for almost nothing (vit. S. Melaniae iun. in Anal. Boll. 8 (1889), 31 ff. c14). It seems to have been transformed into a hospital — Xenodochium Valeriorum or a Valeriis (Greg. Magn. reg. ix.82; LP xcvi.15 (Stephanus III); xcviii.81 (Leo III); LPD i.482, n26, 456, n4; ii.46, n108; Kehr, i.43-44, 156; BC 1902, 150; Arm. 122-124; HJ 240; LR 347; Grisar, Geschichte Roms i.48-50).
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