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Last week when I saw Kaitlin’s post called “Old Sheetrock?” over on Preservation in Pink, I sent the link off as quick as a wink to a friend of mine down on the Coast who just loves old sheetrock. In fact, he would be an old sheetrock collector if only those pesky homeowners didn’t object so strongly to having chunks of their walls cut out. Anyway, he promptly sent me a couple of pictures of a picture of a sheetrock label taken in situ in a house in Waveland.

While Kaitlin’s label says “USG Sheetrock” (USG stands for U.S. Gypsum), the Waveland label is for Universal Gypsum and Lime Co.’s Gypsolite Wallboard, but as my friend notes (and he’s not at all a nerd for noticing this), both products seem to be based on the same manufacturing process first patented on July 11, 1912. That’s way earlier than I ever knew sheetrock existed.

Click on either picture to make it larger and more readable.

Mississippi played a role in the history and manufacture of gypsum board/sheetrock. According to a pretty detailed company history of U.S. Gypsum, U.S. Gypsum started diversifying in the late 1920s and bought up a manufacturing plant for insulating board at Greenville, Mississippi, in 1930 (I believe this plant still operates):

Avery [chairman of the board] took advantage of the company’s strong cash position at the beginning of the Depression to purchase nearly a dozen building material firms weakened by the economic downturn. In 1930 US Gypsum bought into the insulation board business with the purchase of the Greenville Insulating Board Corporation of Greenville, Mississippi. Also in 1930, it bought into the metal-lath business with the purchase of the Youngstown Pressed Steel Company of Warren, Ohio, and the metal-lath division of Northwestern Expanded Metal Company. Avery also made US Gypsum, which had already been in the lime business for 15 years, a leading lime producer in 1930 with the acquisition of lime-producing firms such as the Farnam Cheshire Lime Company. Producers of mineral wool and asphalt roofing acquired in 1933, and asbestos-cement siding acquired in 1937, rounded out the Depression-era acquisitions. The company countered the downturn in new construction by exploiting the remodeling and industrial markets.

The firm was apparently pretty secretive about their manufacturing process, because the 1931 Sanborn map for Greenville shows the plant property blank with the note that access was denied. On the 1951 update to the Sanborn, they show the buildings, but still note that access was denied and that the site plan is based on plans in the office.

1950 Sanborn map showing U.S. Gypsum plant in Greenville, Mississippi

Well this has been a pleasantly nerdy post for me, and I’ve learned alot, but it’s interesting to me that there doesn’t seem to be a good scholarly look at the sheetrock/gypsum industry and its effect on the history of building. Seems like a good thesis or at least a journal article.

Next, I need to rustle up pictures of rock-lath I seem to recall taking in Waveland–rock-lath is a gypsum material with small holes in it was used in place of wood lath and took a skim-coat of plaster. Unfortunately, rock-lath has the same problem as sheetrock, which is that it can’t take water like good ol’ plaster can, so the rock-lath I saw was all moldy from the flooding and was in the process of being torn out.

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As you may recall from a few News Roundups back in December and January, the University of Southern Mississippi, which now owns the beautiful old Gulf Park College campus in Long Beach, wants to use its FEMA money to demolish the old administration building, one of the three remaining historic buildings on the campus. When I posted those, I didn’t have any pictures of the administration building to show you, but Mark Davis, who lives nearby and is involved with the Pearl River County Historical Society, volunteered to share some photos with the rest of us, and here they are.

Administration Building (1921), designed by New Orleans architect Rathbone Debuys, housed classrooms, labs, and offices at Gulf Park. The administration building and Hardy Hall are the two original college buildings left on campus (courtesy Mark Clinton Davis)

Hardy Hall (1921), designed by New Orleans architect Rathbone Debuys, Hardy Hall served as the dormitory, auditorium, and dining hall for the college (courtesy Mark Clinton Davis)

Lloyd Hall

Lloyd Hall (1926), designed by Jackson architect N.W. Overstreet. Lloyd Hall joined Hardy as the two dormitories on campus (courtesy Mark Clinton Davis)

As I mentioned in one of those two previous news roundups, the administration building sits behind the two front dormitories, forming the apex of a triangle and terminating the sightline from the beach road. I have seen all three buildings since Katrina, and to assert–as USM is–that the administration building is more badly damaged than Hardy and Lloyd simply defies logic and rational explanation. All were washed through by the surge, but the force of the surge was much more devastating on the two front buildings–washing out their entire first floors–than it was on the administration building.

Gulf Park College was also one of the first junior colleges in the state, organized in 1919 and opened in 1921, thus pre-dating the public junior college system, which was the first public junior college system in the nation.

My understanding is that both FEMA and MDAH have agreed that the three remaining Gulf Park buildings are eligible for the National Register. Now USM, FEMA, and MDAH are all in “consultation” as defined in Section 106 of the National Historic Preservation Act, in which everyone tries to talk USM out of demolishing the building. My prediction is that USM will listen and “take into account the effect of their action” but will end by saying, “But we just really have to!” and then tear the building down, using my tax dollars, which is such a stupid and useless destruction of a building that represents the very beginnings of the junior college movement in the state and which survived with aplomb not one but two massive hurricanes in the last 40 years.

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I have a bit of fondness for architectural oddities, and the Benwalt Hotel in downtown Philadelphia, with its impressive Quonset Hut roof, was a definite Oddity when I took these pictures in 2006.

Beneath that rather awkward veneer is a three-story brick hotel, built in 1927-28 and designed by Meridian architect R.C. Springer, who also designed the Neshoba County Courthouse around the corner. More importantly for understanding the hotel, it was built by Howell Construction Co. of Philadelphia, a firm owned by partners Ben Howell and Walter Perry. Ben and Walter not only built the hotel, they also owned it and named it Benwalt–can you guess where they got the name?

The hotel had at least one major renovation before its really big addition in the 1970s. As you can see from comparing the picture above with the photos I took in 2006, a glass-block, Art Moderne storefront was inserted in the central section, announcing the entrance to a very cool streamlined diner/cafe inside. This might have been done either right before WWII or right after–hard to say.

The Quonset hut took its place on top of the building, according to people I’ve talked to, around 1979, after the hotel had become a Downtown Motor Inn. When I first saw the roof, I assumed it probably dated to the 1960s, but if you look at pictures of the 1964 and 1966 civil rights marches led by Martin Luther King, Jr., you can see it wasn’t there then, and the oral history supports that. The balconies were also placed on the building at this time, changing the room access from an interior hallway to the exterior balconies.

Because major changes were made to the building after the 1960s, the Benwalt is listed as a non-contributing element in the Downtown Philadelphia Historic District, listed on the National Register in 2005 with national significance for its role in the murders of James Cheney, Andrew Goodman, and Michael Schwerner and in the later civil rights marches. The Benwalt stands just a stone’s throw from the jail in which the three men were held before being released to their fate, and at least one of the marches came past the hotel.

I honestly have wondered if there was any hope for the Benwalt; I questioned whether anyone (with money) could see past the gawkiness of its Quonset incarnation. But, starting a couple of weeks ago, the Benwalt began shedding its top, losing the Quonset and the exterior balconies. Surprisingly, the building is much more intact underneath all that than I would have expected. In fact, I’m told by my friends at MDAH that only a few sections of the parapet were removed to attach the metal roof structure in 1979, and that even those removed sections were placed neatly beside the parapet wall in a crawl space.

Benwalt Hotel, Feb 2010, photo courtesy MDAH

According to the Neshoba Democrat’s “Tin dome being removed from historic Benwalt downtown” (which has some even better pictures of the roof being removed):

A California couple with ties to Neshoba County purchased the historic Benwalt Hotel on Byrd Avenue and plans to turn it into a non-profit cultural center with restaurants and overnight accommodations.
. . . .
Amina Carter, whose late grandfather was a founding member of Mt. Talley Missionary Baptist Church in the Stallo community, is exploring funding options and grants, along with her husband, for the project.

In addition to establishing a cultural center, the couple wants to refurbish the restaurant and hotel built in 1928 and left vacant since October 2002.

In order to pursue Historic Preservation Tax Credits (the same credits that helped make the King Edward Hotel project a reality), the owners are asking for a change in the status of the building from “non-contributing” to “contributing” in the historic district, according to the latest Democrat article on the project “National registration status sought for Benwalt.”

Congrats to the new owners for getting this far and showing the possibilities of this piece of history in downtown Philadelphia. Here’s hoping for continued success as you proceed!

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A reader who took a special interest in the Ceres Plantation story a few weeks ago headed over to the state archives building to do a little digging into the history of the place. After picking through the WPA records for Warren County, he found a little nugget in the “Antebellum Days” file (not in the “Historical Buildings” folder as you might expect–those WPA  records are somewhat random) titled “Architecture in Vicksburg and Warren County” and written by Vicksburg architect William A. Stanton.

W.A. Stanton–sometimes confused with his father William Stanton, a master builder and architect in Vicksburg in the late 19th century (and builder of Speed Street School, may a pox be upon its destroyers)–was one of the first educated native architects in the state, if his claim to have graduated from Cornell holds up: his designs include the abandoned Carr Junior High School (1924) and the dormitory at All Saints School (c.1930), in addition to the sweet little book club building in Tallulah, across the river in Louisiana.

At any rate, his opinion about the architecture of Vicksburg and Warren County is especially valuable, and this is what he had to say about Ceres whenever this was written, probably around 1936. To give a little context, the house had been pretty much vacant for probably 15-20 years and had just been bought by a new owner in the same family, who was fixing it up. Also, I find too much “[sic]” in a long quote distracting, so just assume that any creative spellings or punctuations are from Mr. Stanton himself, not me:

The major portion of the pre-Civil War architectural examples of Warren County and Vicksburg was destroyed by the army, or has disappeared through the process of decay or have been destroyed by fire. There are scattered throughout the county several residences that are remarkable in some respects.

As was the custom in the Colonial period of development, the owners of the plantations named them for some particular idea they had in mind, either for a family incident and historical reminiscence, or from the Greek or Latin ancient literature. Among the outstanding houses in Warren County outside of Vicksburg, perhaps the best example is that of “Ceres”, a plantation now owned by Mr. Grey Flowers, of Vicksburg, who is a descendent of the original owner and builder.

CERES

Like the majority of the buildings of this type, the floor plan consisted of a large hallway open at both ends and large doors with side lights from transoms, with two rooms on each side of the hall open thereunto. In this particular instance the parlor, dining room and kitchen are on the east side of the hall and two bed rooms on the west side. In the hall on the east wall there is a stairway leading to the half story above, which consisted of two rooms opening into a hall with closets and store-rooms. These rooms and hallway were lighted by dormer windows on the north and south sides, and by other windows in the east and west gables. The roof is a double-slope with gables each and west and one common ridge running the same direction. on the north side of the first story is a wide front porch extending entirely across the front of the house, which is to the north. A kitchen porch is at the rear between kitchen store-room. The main roof covers this porch.

The original columns of this porch have decayed and been replaced. The roof has suffered the same fate, but has recently been repaired. The chimneys above the roof are beautifully finished out, and the brickwork of which they are made, is in wonderful state of preservation.

“The floors of this building are still in tact, and although it was built one hundred years ago, it is in a very serviceable condition. The walls were all plastered on wood laths split from oak timber and finished in pure white lime and plaster finish. A large portion of the original plaster is in place but has been badly cracked because of the delapidated condition. The stairway leading to the upper story is exceedingly simple, handmade with square balusters, and even after a lapse of a century sows no sign of decay.

The most peculiar and unaccountable thing about this residence is that the mouldings of the door panelling is in such an excellent state of preservation. All these mouldings were made by hand, the doors made in the same manner and even now after being exposed to weather, heat, cold and rain, for a number of years, one cannot insert a knife blade in any of the joints. It is most probable that agreeable to the custom of those days the paint was made from pure white lead made on the premises and mixed with pure linseed oil. The original paint is still open these doors and finish and upon the outside weatherboarding.

The building is entirely of wood construction made out of hand-hewn timbers of enormous size and the structure put together with wood pins and a few hand-made nails. These nails were, according to tradition, made upon the premises by the slaves of the owners.

It is a pity that this building is so inaccessible to the public. One has to go east of Vicksburg about ten or twelve miles to Bovina over Highway80 thence north to the site over a dirt road that is inaccessible practically, except to ox-teams in the wet seasons.

A former resident of this house planted a few pots of wild orange for ornament and placed them in the front yard. The fruit fell to the ground to the roots and produced and intensely thick growth of thorny bush of wild orange that was only recently destroyed after a great deal of labor.

The present owner, Mr. Grey Flowers, used the residence chiefly as a hunting lodge but has erected barns and other farm out-buildings so that they may be brought under more intent cultivation and made to pay some dividends.

Stanton only describes two other Warren County (as opposed to Vicksburg) houses in this 3-page type-written draft, “Yokena” and “The Burn.” I don’t believe either of the antebellum structures at these plantations still exists (I may be wrong–not an expert on Warren County).

Stanton’s description of Ceres raises some interesting points and other questions:

  • I was surprised to hear the roof described as a “double-slope (which I think of as something like the two bottom houses in this drawing at Mississippi History Now). The roof’s current configuration is a simple gable roof, with an undercut front gallery–could it be that this gallery was originally under this double slope? The oldest pictures I’ve seen of Ceres date to the 1970s, and at that time it had a simple gable like it does now. Maybe the roof repairs Stanton mentions included getting rid of that sometimes problematic inverted ridge?
  • Rear elevation of Ceres, showing the enclosed rear porch for kitchen to right, and what Stanton seems to be describing as a kitchen-storage to the left.

    He seems to be describing a rear porch configuration that was already mostly enclosed, as it is today, with a kitchen on one end of the porch and a storage room on the other end, and a small undercut porch between. I had assumed this was a later change (at least later than 1930s).

  • I admit when I visited the house a month or two ago, I peaked under the house to look at its timbers–a nerdy habit of mine–and I know I saw circular-sawn timbers, not hand-hewn. Now I’m wishing I had looked in several locations, not just the front, because I’m wondering if I saw a later repair rather than the original hand-hewn wood that Stanton describes. What I saw looked old though, so I’m a little confused by this description.
  • Stanton clearly describes dormers on both the front and rear slopes. I was under the impression that one of the reasons the house had been declared ineligible for the National Register back in the 1980s was that the dormers had recently been added. In fact, it appears that the house originally had dormers, maybe lost them in the 1930s renovation, and then got new ones in the early 1980s.

I leave you with this little bit of humor (or at least humorous to me) from Stanton’s later description of Yokena Plantation:

These settlers were members of the Presbyterians Church, serving God in their quiet, unobstrusive way and were not given to the festivities except upon special occasions that the owner of “Ceres”, who were Episcopalians and Methodists indulged in.

Take that, you wild Episcopals and Methodists!

Thanks to our helpful MissPres reader for finding this nugget and passing it on for us all to read and ponder. Perhaps my innate optimism is getting the better of me, but I still have hope for Ceres, and this analysis by Stanton shows that even as far back as the 1930s, Ceres was considered an “outstanding house” in the countryside surrounding Vicksburg. I’ve heard that a petition asking that Ceres be preserved has collected over 2,000 signatures in the last month, so I think there’s still public support for the place, even if the editors of the Vicksburg Post have fallen for the Warren County Port Commission’s story about needing the site for some unknown future development.

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