Photograph by George Stark, Courtesy of Missouri History Museum
Deaconess Hospital, 4117 West Belle Place, 1901-6.
I’ve often likened studying history to standing along the banks of a river. There’s a main channel, where the water flows quickly, and then there are the river banks, sometimes nicely defined, either by human intervention, such as a levee or beach, or sometimes by the current slipping around a bend. But there are also those places where the river gets hung up in flotsam, where the water gets backed up into sloughs and little eddies, the isolated coves where aquatic life thrives in the quiet away from the middle of the river.
When I was young, I only cared about the water flowing unimpeded right in the middle of the channel, but as I get older, I find myself drawn much more to the backwaters, where there are just as equally valid if lesser known stories waiting to be discovered. Part of that discovery has been through the response of readers, who have kindly sent me messages over the years. I rarely if ever get responses from my posts about the Gateway Arch (which has been much more professionally photographed by many others) or other famous landmarks, but other lesser-known places, whose institutional memory is slowly beginning to fade from our collective memory. I am normally not a fan of “sentimental” history, as some sordid aspects of our past do deserve to die, but sometimes there are indeed some very special places that have been lost and need to be remembered.
Photograph by Isaac Sievers, Courtesy of Missouri History Museum
Deaconess Hospital, 1935
Deaconess Hospital
Everyone in St. Louis knew this hospital, even if they didn’t know the name or the fascinating history behind it; for generations, you could simply say, “You know, the hospital across Highway 40 from the Zoo,” and everyone in St. Louis would nod their head in acknowledgement. But for dozens of people who have reached out to me, it is much more than the Spanish Revival-turned-glass-and-concrete edifice that was demolished a couple of years ago; it was where doctors served their residency, where nurses worked for decades, and where of courses many of my readers were born. The Deaconesses came out of the Evangelisch Lutheran Church, first operating out of a large house converted into a hospital (once more common than one would think in St. Louis), and their education was both apprenticeship-based and also lecture-based. The Deaconess College of Nursing still exists but has changed its name to the Chamberlain School of Nursing, based in Downer’s Grove, Illinois.
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Photograph by William Swekosky, Courtesy of Missouri History Museum
Original Lutheran Hospital on Geyer
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Photograph by G.G. Bregstone, Courtesy of Missouri History Museum
Lutheran Hospital, 3500 Ohio Avenue, c. 1905
Lutheran Hospital
The Lutheran School of Nursing still occupies some of the buildings on the campus of what is now known as the Jefferson Campus of St. Alexius Hospital. But for generations, there was another independent hospital on the site, the Lutheran Hospital, which traced its roots back to a house at Geyer and Broadway in 1858. In 1878, it moved to South Jefferson, following the expansion of the city out into the new German American streetcar suburbs. Along with Concordia Publishing, and for a while Concordia Seminary, the hospital and its nursing school formed a sort of “Lutheran Civic Center,” as I have dubbed it, on the South Side. But inexorably, as the South Side east of Grand Boulevard began to show the signs of diminished energy in the 1980s and '90s, the hospital passed through several owners before finally becoming a satellite campus of St. Alexius. I honestly wonder about the long-term future of that hospital, as well. Nonetheless, I still receive a huge number of memories from readers for the hospital and nursing school.
Image courtesy of Kim Stricker
Parks College of Aviation, Cahokia Campus
The historic school is obviously still in existence, now located on St. Louis University’s Frost Campus in Midtown, but the historic campus in Cahokia is still standing, albeit in an increasingly ruined state. Urban explorers have photographed the expansive grouping of buildings, now sitting obscured by dense underbrush. When I posted a reader’s photographs of the historic school’s buildings several years ago, the comments and messages from former students started coming in immediately. It’s particularly compelling how quickly the buildings were gobbled up by nature, and for the time being, Cahoka is still searching for a use for the property. But the memories are still strong, even after all of these years.
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Courtesy of Missouri History Museum
Aerial View of Holy Cross Roman Catholic Church in Baden.
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Photograph by William Swekosky, Courtesy of Missouri History Museum
North at 8200 Block of Halls Ferry Road, Where It Branches Off from Broadway in Baden, c, 1912.
Baden
This far north neighborhood of St. Louis has roots going all the way back to the 18th century, with rail lines that still pass through the community. There seems to be a bit of an industrial revival up this way, as the cheap rents allow start-up companies to build their customer base in inexpensive warehouses. I walked the neighborhood back in January, when it was freezing cold, and met some local residents. I was surprised and saddened that many Baden residents are pessimistic about the future of their historic community. Indeed, what does the history of Baden really offer them today, when the sound of gunshots rings out every night, or another neighbor moves and a vacant house replaces them? Past residents who wrote to me also shared that same sense that Baden’s good times were also long gone as well. As historians, what will we do with this constructive feedback that our readers offer us? What will our city leaders do with it, as well?
Chris Naffziger writes about architecture at St. Louis Patina. Contact him via email at naffziger@gmail.com.
