At close view we found the Festival Hall more interesting than it had
seemed at a distance. It unquestionably had something of the elegance
associated with the best French architecture. But, unlike most of the
buildings here, it did not develop out of a central idea. Much of its
ornamentation seemed put on from the outside.
Of all the domes this dome impressed us as being the least interesting.
It did not even justify itself as being a means of giving abundant
light. "This kind of architecture doesn't really belong in this country;
but it seems to be making its way. Observe the waste of space involved.
However, the curving arches on either side are rather charming. And the
architect has succeeded in putting into the whole structure a certain
amount of sentiment. In fact, throughout the whole Exposition you feel
that the architects haven't worked merely for money or for glory. They
have appreciated the chance of doing something, out of the commonplace."
The sculpture by Sherry Fry was evidently executed with the idea of
festivity in mind, the "Bacchus" and "The Reclining Woman" and two
"Floras" decorated with flowers, and "Little Pan," and "The
Torch-bearer" reproduced above each of the smaller domes. But, somehow,
those figures did not quite indicate the real character of the building,
intended for concerts and lectures and conventions, rather serious
business. The coloring, too, of the statues, was disappointing, the dull
brown being out of key with the light green of the domes.
"In the smaller concert room upstairs, Recital Hall," said the
architect, "there is some very fine stained glass; two windows, and on
the landing of the north stairway there's a third window, all done by
the man who has been called the Burne-Jones of America, Charles J.
Connick, of Boston. Instead of being hidden away there, they ought to
have been put in the Fine Arts Building. They represent something new in
the way of stained glass, and they have a wonderful depth and
brilliancy."
As we drew near the Avenue of Progress we saw the magnificent doorway of
the Varied Industries, overladen with ornamentation. "It was clever of
Faville to put that doorway just in this spot where it would be seen by
the crowds that entered by Fillmore Street. It comes from the Santa Cruz
Hospital, in Toledo, Spain, built by the Spanish architect, De Egas, for
Cardinal Mendoza, one of the most famous portals in Europe. The
adaptation has been wonderfully done by Ralph Stackpole, with those
figures of the American workman carrying a pick at either side and the
semicircular panel just above the door and the group on top. That panel
is one of the finest pieces of sculpture in the Exposition. It has
tenderness and reverence. It's the kind of thing the mediaeval sculptors
who worked on religious themes would have been enthusiastic over. See
how simple it is, just a group of workers, with the emblems of their
work, the women spinning with the lamb close by, the artist and the
artisan, and the woman with the design of a vessel's prow in her hands,
suggesting commerce. The single figure in the center is the intelligent
workman who works with his hands and knows how to work, too. The group
on top is a very pretty conception, the Old World Handing Its Burden to
the Younger World, with its suggestions of the European people coming
over here and raising American children."