Wednesday, May 4, 2011

The Allerton Hotel


The Allerton Hotel, 701 N. Michigan Avenue  (JWB, 2008)

Stroll up Michigan Avenue one day when the sun is out and ask yourself a simple question:  Of all the buildings on the Magnificent Mile, which one seems least likely to be a “Chicago” building.  Which building seems to be the offering of an out-of-town intruder who plunked it down in the midst of the grand boulevard that winds its way from the river to Oak Street?

You might first guess the 1970 John Hancock building, the X-braced black steel-and-glass giant that sits opposite the Fourth Presbyterian Church, proclaiming that God really is in the details.

But, of course, you immediately think of Willis Tower in the West Loop, 330 North Wabash on the river and the Federal Center between Jackson and Adams, and you know that Big John holds its own with any of those great Mid-Century Modern Chicago towers.

There’s really only one possibility left, right?  Up and down a street on which virtually every building takes its cue from the yellowing Joliet limestone of the Chicago Water Tower and is clad in stone, the Allerton Hotel is the only structure on the Magnificent Mile that is clad in brick as it rises to its 25-story height.  Then . . . tack on the “Tip Top Tap” sign hanging way up there, just above that tip top balcony, and you’ve got something that you don’t see much of around Chicago.

The Tip-Top-Tap is gone but the sign still remains as part of this
Chicago landmark (JWB, 2011)
And that’s as it should be; the firm that designed the Allerton was the New York outfit of Murgatroyd and Ogden.  This was the first hotel outside of New York City for the Allerton Company; it was to be part of a series of “club hotels,” built to provide accommodations along with privileges such as lounges, reading rooms, dining rooms, a gymnasium, and a squash court. 

It’s easy to look at the Allerton today as being out of place, but when it was finished in 1922, there was only one other high-rise hotel on the street—The Drake, finished in 1920, on Lake Shore East at the end of Michigan Avenue.  Both the Allerton and The Drake  had three-story limestone bases that filled their sites.  At the time they would have simply been two competing hotels in very different styles for very different clienteles.

The three-story base clearly shows the northern Italian medieval style
that was chosen for the building (JWB, 2008)
Architect Arthur Loomis Harmon, the designer of the original Allerton hotels in the shopping districts of New York City, used the Medieval architecture of Northern Italy as his model.  In the early 1920’s the Allerton Company replaced Harmon with Murgatroyd and Ogden.  Architect and engineer Everett Murgatroyd remained faithful to Harmon’s original style.

Weekly rates ranged from ten to twenty dollars when the building opened in 1924, and the hotel became popular with young men and women just out of college.  Eventually 102 colleges and universities and 21 fraternities and sororities made the Allerton a residential headquarters with ten floors for men and seven for women with another four given over to married couples. 

Planned as a 20-story hotel, the Allerton was built to 25 stories which contained 1010 rooms.  The three-story limestone base was set aside for shops; Brooks Brothers and Nine West currently occupy the retail space.  The shaft of the building is H-shaped, designed to increase window area, an important consideration in the days before air conditioning.  At floor 20 the corner wings become eight-sided, forming imposing towers.

More Italian influence (JWB, 2011)
John W. Stamper said of the building’s design, “The building’s three-story base has an arcade motif consisting of broad pilasters and lancet arches with window motifs and corbelled sills and arches.  At the main entrance, which as with the Drake Hotel faces south rather than onto Michigan Avenue, the arcade motif is open to form a grand loggia.  The buildings’ upper-wall surfaces, clad in red brick, are articulated by pilasters and further punctuated by a pattern of projecting headers giving the building a rustic quality.  Other features of the Northern Italian style are seen in corbeled cornices, striping, and, at the top, overhanging balconies supported by arched brackets.” [Stamper, John W.  Chicago’s North Michigan Avenue: Planning and Development 1900-1930.  University of Chicago Press:  1991.  P. 128]

And there’s the rub . . . the style, although certainly reflective of the Allerton Company’s brand at the time, worked in the beginning on a building halfway between the classically designed towers at the Michigan Avenue bridge and the streamlined art deco surfaces of The Drake. But now The Allerton stands apart from the sleek facades of the art deco, mid-century modern, and post-modern buildings that line the great boulevard.

The brickwork, which causes the Allerton to apart, on
Michigan Avenue is quite exceptional (JWB, 2008
)
I, for one, love the difference.

Take any great hotel in the city, and you can find stories of exhilaration and woe reflective of the thousands and thousands of human beings who come to stay.  The Allerton has had its share.

One of the most thrilling stories occurred on June 19, 1936 when firefighters rolled up to the hotel as smoke rolled out of its 19th floor windows.  Beneath one of the windows, crouching on a ledge was 18-year-old Madeline Britain of Salem, Illinois.

When the firefighters reached the 19th floor, they found it filled with smoke.  The door to the girl’s room was locked, so Lieutenant Thomas Burns ordered the men of Engine Company 98 to use their axes to break down the door.  The girl had locked the door, opened the window in her room and climbed out onto the ledge. 

And she wouldn’t leave it.

Burns tried to get Ms. Britain to give him her hand, but she was too panicked to respond.  “Get me a bath towel,” Burns ordered.  With the towel in hand, Burns leaned out of the window, looped the towel under the girl’s and “yanked her to her feet.”  She was quickly lifted into the room.

The fire, it turns out, began in the hotel’s incinerator and was quickly extinguished.

Monday, May 2, 2011

Photo of the Week: The Abbott Hotel


The Abbott Hotel,  721 West Belmont (JWB, 2011)

One of my favorite signs in the city – the display for the Abbott Hotel at  721 West Belmont.  The sign tells you everything you need to know . . . it comes straight from a different time, a time when Chevy Bel-Airs, Plymouth Furys, and Mercury Montereys rolled up and down Belmont.

Imagine . . . checking into a room with air conditioning AND color television. For free!

Although times have changed, the Abbott hasn’t.  If you use your imagination, you might picture poor old Miss Havisham up there in a room on the third floor, watching a Philco with the color all wrong and the sound too loud.

And, if you read the reviews, the hotel staff fits the motif, characters, seemingly, straight out of a Dickens novel.

Friday, April 29, 2011

Wicker Park Gem at 2138 West Pierce

So . . . you’re walking south on Leavitt in Wicker Park, admiring lovely late nineteenth-century homes of sandstone, maybe thinking about the first- or second-generation Germans who found fortune in the fastest growing city in the world when you make a left onto Pierce, walk a dozen paces or so and come upon 2138 West Pierce, a home unlike anything you have ever seen before.

2138 West Pierce (JWB, 2011)
You have to see it to believe it . . . and you won’t regret making the trip.

The firm of Fromann and Jebsen designed the house for Hans D. Runge, and it was finished in 1884.  Emil Henry Fromann and Ernst Jebsen designed homes all over the city in a variety of styles (See “The Case of the Mysterious Wine Merchant” in the April 4, 2011 Connecting the Windy City blog).  The firm’s claim to fame is the Humboldt Park Refectory, finished in 1895.  If you’re up on Belmont and Southport, Schuba’s is another Fromann and Jebsen design, one of the 27 “tied-houses” that the firm designed for Edward Uihlein and the Schlitz Brewing Company.

Mr. Runge was the treasurer of a large wood milling firm, and his choice of architectural style featured over-the-top wood embellishment -- from the massive turned table leg supports of the veranda roof to the finely wrought Masonic symbolism beneath the eaves.

Eastlake detail in porch support
(JWB, 2011)
The house is a classic example of the Eastlake style of design, a name that comes from an Englishman, Charles Eastlake, whose 1872 Hints on Household Taste in Furniture, Upholstery and Other Details attracted a wide following.

Eastlake designs feature porch posts, railings and balustrades that appear massive.  They were turned on a lathe, giving them the shape of heavy legged furniture popular during the latter part of the nineteenth century. 

Large brackets are placed at every corner.  Beneath the roof of the house on Pierce you see such brackets beneath the overhanging roof.  Looking closely the bracket on the left contains the Masonic pyramidal symbol we are accustomed to seeing on the back of the one-dollar bill.  On the right are the square and compass most commonly associated with Freemasonry.

Note Masonic symbolism in left and right brackets (JWB, 2011)


In the late Victorian period the Eastlake style saw a much greater use of color.  2138 West doesn’t show this to a great extent, only in the rear supporting posts beneath the roof on the upstairs deck, a deck that features the row of spindles common to this architectural style.  You can see these supports in the photo to the left.

But the real story of the house is the story of the second owner—Samuel F. Smulski, who served as a city alderman for two terms, State Treasurer and Chairman of the West Park Board.  He practiced law in the firm of David, Smulski & McGaffey and was the President of the Pulaski Lumber Company. In 1906 Smulski founded the Northwestern Trust and Savings Bank and also served on the Board of Directors for eight other banks in the city.

Samuel Smulski (Left) &
Ignacy Padereski (Chicago Daily
News Archives)
As important as his endeavors in Chicago financial affairs were, his efforts on behalf of Poland won him international acclaim.  He served as Chairman of the National Polish Committee during World War I, a committee of which the great Polish composer Ignacy Paderewski was also a member.  This began a friendship that lasted the rest of Smulski’s lifetime.

After the war, as Poland struggled to survive as an independent state, Smulski helped to negotiate loans from the United State to stabilize Poland’s economy.  During this crucial time Paderewski was Poland’s Prime Minister and Minister of Foreign Affairs, so it’s easy to assume that the two men further strengthened their friendship during the trials of 1919.

There are two myths concerning Smulski and the house on Pierce, one of which I can disprove, the other of which must remain an interesting tale without verification.

The first story involves Smulski’s suicide, which occurred on March 18, 1928.  There are two parts to the story as it is most commonly told.  First, is that the banker took his life as a result of the stock market collapse.  Clearly, this is false since that event took place nearly 20 months later.

The second part of the story has it that Smulski took his life inside the house on Pierce Street.  But The Chicago Tribune on March 19, 1928 reported (beneath the front page banner headline “Smulski Ends Life”) that “. . . Mr. Smulski entered a bathroom on the sixteenth floor of the Seneca hotel and shot himself.”

In any event, the coroner concluded that Smulski, who had suffered through three operations in the previous year for sigmoiditis, had taken his life “in temporary insanity induced by despondency over ill health.”  This contradicts the statement of Smulski’s doctor who had examined him the week before and found “He was in splendid condition . . . The sigmoiditis was a long and protracted affair, but he had practically recovered from it . . .” [Chicago Tribune, March 19, 1928]

Front Entrance to 2138 W. Pierce (JWB, 2011)
The other myth surrounding the house on Pierce Street is that the Polish composer, piano virtuoso and patriot Ignacy Paderewski gave a concert on the veranda of the home.  No account of such an event is given in the newspapers of the time.  

Paderewski gave concerts at Chicago’s Symphony Hall in 1928 in the dead of winter.  It’s unlikely he would have played piano on a front porch during that trip.  He also played a concert at Symphony Hall on April 1, 1932.  Again, not the warmest weather in the world . . . and his friend, John Smulski, would have been dead for over four years.

Still, there is nothing I’ve found to prove that he DIDN’T entertain a crowd on the Smulski porch, either.  Certainly, his friendship with Mr. Smulski may very well have brought him to the Pierce Street home.  And the fact that Smulski was married to Harriet Mikitynski, an accomplished operatic singer in her own right, might have us envision informal gatherings around the piano in the Smulski parlor.

In any event, when he died the President of the United States sent a letter of condolence to Mrs. Smulski and United States Vice-President Dawes said, “He was a man of irreproachable character and of a great public spirit.  In all positions of public trust, of which he occupied many, his career was one of the strictest honesty and high usefulness.”

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Photo of the Week: Sheridan's Rainy Day


General Phillip Sheridan and Winchester on a Rainy Day (JWB, 2011)

Rest of Today
Rain in the morning...then a chance of rain in the afternoon. Highs in the upper 50s. Northwest winds around 10 mph in the morning becoming light and variable in the late morning and early afternoon...then becoming north around 10 mph late in the afternoon. Chance of precipitation 100 percent.

Tonight
Cloudy. Showers likely in the evening...then a chance of showers after midnight. Lows in the upper 30s...except in the lower 40s downtown. West winds 10 to 15 mph. Chance of precipitation 60 percent.

Thursday
Showers likely. Cold. Highs in the upper 40s. West winds 10 to 20 mph. Chance of precipitation 60 percent.

Thursday Night
Mostly cloudy. Cold. Lows in the upper 30s. Northwest winds 10 to 15 mph.

Day after rainy day . . . a soul could grow weary, were it not for the promise of spring brought by the landscapers at work in the city’s gardens.

In the above photo Gutzon Borglum’s statue of General Phillip Sheridan mounted on his favorite horse, Winchester, emerge from the clouds at the intersection of Belmont and Sheridan.  (Connecting the Windy City Blog of May 6, 2010.)

Just the horse, the general and me – standin’ in the rain, talking to myself.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

1431 North Astor Street


1431 North Astor Street (on left) (JWB, 2011)
A rare find is the home located at 1431 North Astor Street . . . an 8,900 square foot manse that has had just four owners in 117 years.  Finished in 1894 and designed by the firm of Holabird & Roche, an undisclosed owner purchased the three-story Federal-style residence several years back and has given it a makeover, returning it to its former glory.

The home’s first owner was attorney George W. Meeker, who was born in the late 1850’s, the son of a coal and iron dealer.  George W. was the older brother of Arthur Meeker, who grew up to become the general manager of Philip Armour’s meatpacking and feed grain empire and who in 1919 moved his family into the Charles Platt-designed mansion at 3030 North Lake Shore Drive (April 13, 2010 Connecting Chicago Blog).

The Meeker’s sold the Astor Street home in 1919 to Edward and Nora Ryerson.  Edward was the grandsson of Joseph T. Ryerson, who arrived in Chicago in the early 1840’s from Pennsylvania and leased a shop by the Chicago River from which he sold iron products such as buggy springs, axles, nails and wrought iron spikes.

Ground Floor detail (JWB, 2011)
Ryerson was a huge beneficiary of railroad expansion and skyscraper construction at the end of the 19th and early part of the 20th centuries.  The company was one of the first steel companies to produce stainless steel in large quantities in 1926 and in 1935 merged with Inland Steel,  operating as a wholly owned subsidiary with plants in Detroit, Cleveland, Buffalo, Cincinnati, Boston, New York and Philadelphia.  At the time of the merger the two companies had combined assets of close to $120 million dollars.

The Ryersons  extended the house by adding 65 feet to the east.  Burton and Elaine Gordon bought the home in 1965 and lived there for 40 years.  Mr. Burton received an MBA from the University of Chicago in 1948 and between 1972 and 1996 acted as Chairman of the Board and C.E.O. of the Franklin Park Bank (1967-69), the Mid Town Bank and Trust Company (1972-77) and the Columbia National Bank of Chicago (1964-1996), which he founded.

Cornice detail at 1431 N. Astor (JWB, 2011)
The new owners have restored the home to  its Federal-style roots.  Freed from a skin of steel-grey paint, he details are striking – the texture created by the shades of color in the brick’s Flemish Bond, the Ionic columns that frame the front entrance and the white stone trim with decorative keystones that frame the windows.  Especially impressive is the cornice with its combination of dentils, egg-and-dart ornamentation, and a lower band of balls that looks like a house-sized abacus wrapping around the circular façade.

On a street of beautiful and distinctively different homes, this beauty ranks right up there with the best of them.

Before (www.chicagomag.com) and after (JWB, 2011)

Monday, April 25, 2011

John Root's 32 East Bellevue Place


John Root's 1887 home for Lot P. Smith
at 32 E. Bellevue (JWB, 2011)

I got this place on Bellevue in my head, and I have been trying for the past three days to make my peace with it.  The story of the men and women who brought it to life are as important to me as the architecture is, and I have been trying to figure out who this Lot P. Smith was.

I didn’t get very far.  The United States census of 1880 shows that he was born in Illinois in 1846, and that at the time was living in Harvard.  His profession was listed as a “purchasing agent for railroad construction.”

Well, he must have done pretty darned well working on the railroad because by 1890 he had been voting in Chicago for seven years and had contracted with Burnham and Root to build a home right down next to the lake on Bellevue, the address listed as 27 Bellevue Place.  Chicago changed its numbering system in the first decade of the last century, so the address is now 32 East Bellevue Place.

And it is magnificent – John Wellborn Root at the height of his powers . . . probably designed somewhere between the Rookery and the Monadnock.

The plasticity of sandstone in the hands of a genius . . . note the pattern
of circle (which is repeated in the dormer)  (JWB, 2011
I struck out on old Lot Smith.  At the time Chicago had a host of publications profiling the personalities that brought the city to greatness.  Smith isn’t mentioned in any of them.

BUT . . . I hit an unexpected turn and ended up with something that I never would have predicted when I began the process.  That’s the fun of digging into the past.

It seems that Sidney Root, John’s father and a resident of Georgia, undertook a series of foreign travels when the Civil War began, seeking to convince foreign governments of the justness of the Confederate cause.  In 1864 John sailed to England with his father on a blockade runner and ended up at a school in Claremont, just outside of Liverpool.  Young John stayed there for three years, and he actually passed the exams that admitted him to Oxford.  But in 1867 he returned home to attend New York University.

Note decorative treatment of dormer at 32 East Bellevue and top of Oriel
Chambers in Liverpool (Oriel Chambers photo from www.e-architect.co.uk)
So . . . it does not seem far-fetched to speculate that a teen-aged John Root, who already had a predisposition toward art and music, saw and never forgot the brand new Oriel Chambers in Liverpool, which architect Peter Ellis designed and which is, at five stories, the first metal-framed building with a glass curtain wall in the world.

If you look closely at the way Ellis finished off his structure, one that was so widely ridiculed that he designed only one more building in Liverpool, and then look at Root’s work at 32 East Bellevue Place, especially at what the AIA Guide to Chicago calls the “decorative detail in the unusual dormer,” you see how much of an impression Ellis’s building left.

Dormer detail at Lot P. Smith House (JWB, 2011)
Nearly a quarter-century after first glimpsing the Oriel Chambers building, Root was still drawing upon it for inspiration.  Finished in 1887, Lot P. Smith’s home is one of the few Root-designed residential buildings we have left and was probably one of the last of his career.  He would die of pneumonia on January 15 of 1891, just 42-years-old.

On that cold night in January Nellie Mitchell, Root’s aunt, broke the news of the young architect’s death to his partner, Daniel Burnham, who had been staying at Root’s Astor Street home most of the week.  “His snatches of soliloquy through that night of despair, before he emerged to new dreams, took the form of wrath,” Mitchell reported, “and he shook his fist and cursed the murderous fates as he paced back and forth between intervals of comfortless sleep on the living room couch.”

Burnham moaned, “I have worked. I have schemed and dreamed to make us the greatest architects in the world.  I have made him see it and kept him at it – and now he dies – Damn! Damn! Damn!” [Hines, Thomas S. Burnham of Chicago. New York: Oxford University Press, 1974]

JWB, 2011
Who knows, given another 20 years of productive work, what glories John Wellborn Root would have built upon his already impressive achievements?  Burnham, when he shook his fist at the heavens, must have felt as much the heavy tragedy of all those works that never would take form as much as he felt the loss of his friend and genius-partner.

Friday, April 22, 2011

The Louis Nettelhorst School


Here’s a question for you . . . What Chicago elementary school has been in the same building since 1892, has piloted the Chicago Public School Healthy Eating Program, and in the last decade has been featured on CBS, PBS, NPR, 60 Minutes and in The New York Times?

JWB, 2011
It’s the Louis Nettelhorst School at 3252 North Broadway, a Chicago Public Schools Magnet Cluster School and one of the first C.P.S. community schools in Chicago.  The school educates 525 students from a cross section of the city.  Its population is about 18% African-American, 10% Hispanic, 55% White, with the remaining 10% mostly Asian.

The school is named after Louis Nettelhorst, who was the President of the Board of Education when the school was built.  The first reference to Nettelhorst is found in The Chicago Tribune on September 19, 1889 when as a member of the Board of Education he offered an opinion as to whether or not the County Board should provide a grant for poor children so that they could be given the “clothing, hats, and shoes . . . necessary to enable them to attend school.”

“It is as much the duty of the county board to provide clothing for the children as it is to give relief – coal, flour, and so on – to the indigent . . . If it is not done by the county board it will have to be done by the people,” Nettelhorst said.

JWB, 2011
In July of 1890 Nettelhorst, the only German member of the Board of Education, was elected as its President.  In a notoriously political body Nettelhorst held onto his position despite the fact that in 1891 he was one of only three Democrats on the Board. 

Perhaps his single most important achievement as a member of the Board was his guidance of the committee that oversaw the addition of over a hundred schools when in 1889 Chicago annexed 125 square miles of outlying townships and added a population of nearly a quarter-million people.

Nettelhorst was born in Bremen, Germany on February 4, 1851 and came to Chicago in 1870.  He acquired a position with the Bismarck Bund and Teutonia Insurance Company and went to New York as an agent, returning to permanent residency in Chicago in 1875. 

JWB, 2011
In Chicago Nettelhorst found employment as a bookkeeper with Charles Emmerich & Co., one of the largest feather dealers in the country.  Within a few years he was made a partner in the firm. [Chicago Tribune, March 15, 1893] 

In his early years he was a member of the Republican Party but became a Democrat in 1886, the same year the Mayor Carter H. Harrison appointed him to the Board of Education, the only political office that Nettelhorst held although he ran unsuccessfully for City Treasurer in 1891 on Carter Harrison’s ticket.

Then, suddenly in 1893 he died. The Tribune speculated that “Mr. Nettelhorst’s death . . . was caused primarily by an unusually severe attack of the grip two years ago.”

His funeral services gave testimony to the fact that Nettelhorst was one of the most popular German-American citizens of Chicago.  Thousands entered Turner Hall on the north side where Nettelhorst’s remains lay in state from noon until 2:00.  Six men from the Turner society, dressed in dark blue uniforms and bearing swords wrapped in black crape, did sentinel duty at the catafalque and kept the throng moving,” The Tribune reported on March 18.

JWB, 2011
In the 2:00 service which followed John McClaren, the President of the Board of Education eulogized Nettelhorst, saying, “Honest himself to the core he always expected honesty from his associates.  Any mean thing at once aroused his contempt.  There was never any doubt as to where he stood on any question.  Good common sense and practical ideas made him a wise counselor in educational matters, while his splendid business knowledge and habits were of the highest benefit in the management of the affairs of the board.”  [Chicago Tribune, March 18, 1893]

In the huge procession from Turner Hall at Clark and Oak Streets to Graceland Cemetery, four Chicago mayors acted as honorary pall bearers --  John Roche, DeWitt Cregier, Hempstead Washburne, and Carter Harrison.

Main entrance ornamentation (JWB, 2011)
So there’s mortality for you . . . a guy who was so beloved that thousands paid their respects during his final trip to Graceland, a procession led by four Chicago mayors.  Today, you have to dig pretty deep to find any reference to the fact that he ever existed.

But his name still lives on at the Nettelhorst School on Broadway, a school in which the educators are doing their best to live up to the ideals that Nettelhorst held dear.  For more on the impressive efforts going on there, look up the school’s website here

One of the more impressive aspects of the school is long tradition of embracing the arts.  There are two W.P.A. murals inside the building, Rudolph Weisenborn’s Contemporary Chicago and Ethel Spears’s Horses from Children’s Literature.

Michael Bonfiglio's Dotted Doors (south entrance); Mosaic
by Nettelhorst teacher Phyllis Dunbar (JWB, 2011)
Additionally, current faculty members and community members have decorated the school with works that proclaim the building as a center of joy rather than a torturous grind through rote learning and testing.  Nettelhorst’s exterior is decorated in a lively display that brings the century-old structure alive, even on the gloomiest day.

The architect who designed the original Nettelhorst back in the 1890’s was John J. Flanders, who was the architect for the Board of Education at the time.  Born on June 30, 1848, he was a second-generation Chicagoan whose father had come to the city in 1834.  He began his career as an architect in 1866, working for three firms before starting his own practice in 1874. 

John J. Flanders' 2,475 seat Haymarket Theater
(Chicago.urban-history.org)
Flanders designed the Maller’s Building on Quincy and LaSalle Streets, the first office building in the city to reach twelve stories.  He began work for the Board of Education in 1884, but perhaps his best known design was for the Haymarket Theater of 1887, which was demolished in 1950 to make room for what is now the Kennedy Expressway.

The Haymarket started out as a legitimate theater, but over the years its playbill spiraled down the hierarchy of entertainment – to a vaudeville theater from 1896 to 1916, then to a burlesque house from that time until it became a movie house in 1932.  Jazz Age Chicago has a great treatment of the theater here

The name of Flanders, like Nettelhorst, has disappeared from view.  For both men, though, the legacy lives on at the Nettlhorst School on Broadway where for a century boys and girls have started their long journeys toward adulthood.  That’s a good enough legacy for me.