To account for the origin of these songs is difficult or impossible, Bob himself is probably at a loss to know how or why he was moved to write them, but once conceived, there was no resting until they were finished, notwithstanding the combined rigors of teaching and practicing architecture. The light muse is a jealous mistress. I have observed him in the throes of birth pains as, with glazed eye, he scribbles restlessly and finally, when the egg is laid, rushes for the banjo to test its quality.

These songs are a personal expression, a reliving of past emotions or the vicarious experiences of his imagination. They were not intended for general or broad consumption. He has apparently never sought to achieve a public song “hit.” Subjects unexpectedly range from the classic Massimi to the lowly Nellie; from the dignity of Noah to the Mary Ann Behind.

“Nellie of Meadow Farm” emerged in music and lyrics during a weekend with fellow architects at Ligonier. Nellie seemingly rose full blown from the waters of Lynn Run as Venus did from the sea. Her colorful little tragedy was subsequently re-enacted in many impromptu gatherings, but finally achieved a great public success at the Soirées Charette, a series of entertainments with which the members of the Pittsburgh Architectural Club sought to beguile the depression.

“The Palazzo Massimi” was one of the by-products of the architect’s “grand tour.” The flowing curved lines of this little Roman palace created a problem for which the stonecutter probably did not thank the designer. But Bob shifts the blame on the rowdy guests, with architectural erudition and a richness of historical allusion spiced with Renaissance scandal. This song, the deftest bit of verse-making of them all, is calculated to make any architect listener squirm with delight.

I happened to participate in the experience that led to “Monongahela Sal.” Bob and I traveled from Pittsburgh to the American Institute of Architects convention at Cincinnati on the steamer “Jason,” the last and most powerful of the stern-wheelers. The social life of these towboats centers in the pilot house where, for four days, we listened to the Captain and crew gossip of river affairs. Reference was frequently made to various river pilots, their exploits, bizarre habits and dress. It was a painful wrench to leave the boat and its fascinating crew to sit on hard convention seats in a city hotel. The thought of the legendary river personalities and the charm of those few days on the Ohio simmered in Bob’s mind to finally become this melodramatic ditty.

No one can teach for twenty-five years without some rebellious thoughts. As Spring breezes disturbingly permeate the class room and ruffle the professor’s hair, he eventually recognizes that youth is too good a thing to waste on young people. Hence, “Spring on the Campus.” This number was a hit feature of a Pittsburgh Playhouse musical production.

After years of pagan unconcern about his irreverent verse, the composer tossed off “Noah Found Grace in the Eyes of the Lord” and regained some standing of the same sort, we hope.

Marcia Davenport brought Pittsburgh’s North Side to literary life, featuring the one-time glory of the Victorian residences, without quite completing the architectural or social cycle. Bob carries the whole movement to its realistic conclusion in the song “The Queen Anne Front and the Mary Ann Behind” - a complete commentary on the housing problem. He probably remembered an experience he had had when we were seeking a building to rent for permanent quarters of the Pittsburgh Architectural Club. Bob applied at a pretentious building on the North Side that displayed a “for sale” sign. The door was answered by a rather over-decorated middle-aged woman who showed him up the old circular marble stair and through lavishly upholstered bed rooms. She was uncertain of what Bob was after and Bob gradually became aware that this was not exactly what he was looking for. Years later this, like so many events of his life, blossomed into song.

* * * * *

Fellow architect Rody Patterson and fellow Fellow’s Club member Fred Haller, the impresarios who promote this album, feel that our local genius deserves a wider audience. Those may now hear him who do not know the author well enough to ask him over for the evening, with sly hints that he would be even more welcome if he brought his banjo. Then again, we are concerned about making a permanent record. These melodies exist only in Bob’s mind and the words, if set down at all, are usually on the back of a misplaced envelope. In other words, they will preserve for another time the evidence that, even in these hectic days, one of us had the capacity for wasting time with elegance of spirit.

CHARLES M. STOTZ

ABOUT ORIGINAL 1949 RECORDING

This is a non-profit edition of three hundred albums, made possible by the generous assistance of more than thirty architects and others who gave it financial backing.

Recorded by George Heid Productions
1005 Century Building
Pittsburgh, PA

S-100, S-101, S-102
3 Two-sided Records
78 r.p.m.

Back to Top