The Case of the Brick Windows

This appeared on Sunday, March 4, 2007

Everyone loves a good mystery, even more when the mystery involves something in your own backyard.

You know, like whatever happened to the 12 missing votes from the 156th Legislative District (ballots, you may remember, it has yet to be disproven had my name on them)?

Or exactly when did Andy Dinniman‘s Groucho mustache disappear? And where did it go?

Better yet, how did William H. Lamb, former law-and-order district attorney of Chester County, turn into the Slots King of Fishtown?

But sometimes there are mysteries right under our noses that we don‘t notice until someone points them out.

Like The Case of the Brick Windows, suggested to us by Constant Reader Bob B.

Mr. B, a keen observer of goings-on in West Chester and its accompanying environs, noticed that there was something off-kilter about the new Justice Center (Code Name: We-Don‘t-Know-What-To-Call-It-Yet) going up on West Market Street. To wit: there are five bricked-in windows on the front façade of the building, right there near the corner of North Darlington Street.

The bricked windows go from the ground floor up. At a glance, they remind you of that scene in ”The Matrix“ when Mouse tries to escape from the on-rushing Agent Smith SWAT Team after coming back from Neo‘s visit with The Oracle, and draws aside a window curtain in Morpheus‘ apartment building, only to find that the window has been replaced by a brick wall and that he has nowhere to go and he‘s going to get shot up to smithereens when the SWAT storm troopers break down the door and, thus, become the first of the crew of the Nebuchadnezzar to perish.

Or it doesn‘t. Whatever.

Mr. B. was puzzled by the brick windows because they are not depicted on the original architectural drawings of the project. (Trust me: he checked.)

So he left it up to me to solve the puzzle and get back to him. ”If anyone can get to the bottom of the story, er, actually five stories, top to bottom, it‘s you,“ he fawned, leaving me slightly faint. So, with the help of Chester County Public Information Officer Extrordinaire Evelyn Walker, I did.

Here‘s the skinny, as delivered by the county‘s architect through Ms. W:

"It became necessary to locate a telecommunications and electrical room in the southeast corner of the building in order to properly serve the large floor plates. The architects desired to maintain the character and rhythm of the fenestration along Market Street; therefore, the cast stone surrounds and brick infill were proposed to satisfy the aesthetic goal. Sincerely, Paul Andrew Sgroi, AIA."

Frankly, I‘d have just said: "Oops!"

Mr. B. accepted the explanation with some rancor, and not just because of the technocratese that the answer came in. He declared that the brick windows were an eyesore that the citizens of Chester County would be stuck with when coming to West Chester to file their election recount petitions, or whatever else they‘ll do at the Justice Center, "rhythm of fenestration aesthetics" notwithstanding.

He suggested that the county get a huge refund from the people to blame for the snafu. I can‘t disagree.

Because, as Bill Lamb might say: ”Cha-ching!“

Whose Bricks Are These?

This appeared on Sunday, February 4, 2006


You know me — I love the Chester County Courthouse. Those engraved bricks around the Market Street side? I love them, too. But some of them should offer an explanation for those wanderers who stroll by on a Sunday morning.

"In Memory of Guernsey Cow Exton?"

Remember, the majority of people who live in Chester County don‘t remember anything here before they put up the Beaver Chase Run subdivision in London Grove. They‘re supposed to pay homage to a mid-century dairy bar? I think not.

"The Farnum Twins?" Sounds like an act out of Ringling Bros. "Breakfast Club?" There are two of these, so I suggest they get together and pile on the packcakes as a single unit or be somewhat clearer about whose breakfast and where.

There are two, count ‘em, two "Mike Perrone West Chester Building Depts.," bricks, raising the question of whether Mike is trying to get a message across, or whether some obsequious contractor got carried away.

Everyone likes a mystery myself now and again, but the meaning of "X1E-XIE/Minky/Wly R + S"? Wanna run that one by me again? Should I guess, "secret formula for removing white residue stains from real brick sidewalks?"

Nearby is "Khaki Was Here" and "Imagine." Okay, one‘s the name of a John Lennon song, the other‘s a great name for a post-punk, hip hop, skater band. But what about "Jasmine & The B Boys." Maybe a hip hop, skater, post-punk band?

If you were an alien and dropped down on West Market and took a look at the bricks, you‘d wonder about the proliferation of Swopes and Taylors. "In Honor of Charles E. Swope." "In Honor of Rep. Elinor Taylor." "In Honor of Stephanie Swope." "In Memory of Edna M. Swope." " Elinor Taylor WC Council 1974." "In Honor of Charles E. Swope Jr." "In Memory of Charles E. Swope." "The Swope Foundation." You‘d think they ran the town, for the love of Pete. Oh, wait a minute …

There‘s a certain amount of advertising going on here, which might strike some as unseemly. You can forgive the "Giuntas Thriftway Since 1927," but one might wonder whether the "Jane Chalfont" of one brick is the same as the same "Jane Chalfont Inc." of another. Is "Riggtown" a neighborhood, or a truckers‘ depot on the Pennsylvania Turnpike?

There is a symmetry to it all, though, with "Hillsdale Class of 2003" lined up not too terribly far away from "Class of 62 WCHS." The "in honor ofs" match up nicely with the the "in memory ofs," putting the living in the vicinity of the dead, and it‘s nice to see both "Fred Gusz" and "Fred Gusz Jr." occupying the same territory after all these years.

It is a fun little tour to make, and if you want to know about "In Memory of Betty Rellahan," I‘d be glad to tell you. I can talk about her all day.