An English cottage in stone and stucco, built in 1913 at the corner of Amberson Avenue and Amberson Place by an architect at the start of his career, for a family at the height of theirs. This is what we know.
704 Amberson was designed by Edward Joseph Weber (May 31, 1877 – c. 1968), a Pittsburgh architect who was, in the words of one critic, "one of America's premier regional ecclesiastical architects" before slipping into a long, half-forgotten second act. The house was an early commission — Weber was 36 — and it sits within the romantic, medieval-inflected idiom that would define his greatest work.
Weber was born in Cincinnati to Henry Weber, a German-immigrant shoe-store owner. His mother died when he was a toddler. As a child he filled sketchbooks with drawings of medieval buildings and Venetian canals — an early devotion to Old World form that would never leave him. He trained in Boston and studied at the École des Beaux-Arts in Paris, returning to the United States and settling in Pittsburgh, where he would spend the rest of his career. He was already accomplished by the time he designed 704 Amberson: in 1904 he had completed the synod hall and chancery for Saint Paul's Cathedral in Oakland; by 1913 his office sat in the Renshaw Building at 217 Ninth Street, downtown, and he himself lived at 4400 Centre Avenue in Schenley Farms. He worked variously under his own name and as a partner in Link, Weber & Bowes, the firm that would later design Central Catholic High School in Oakland.
What followed was the most productive period of his life. Through the 1910s and into the 1920s, Weber produced a body of medievalizing schools, churches, and houses across western Pennsylvania and West Virginia — among them St. Joseph's Cathedral in Wheeling (his masterpiece, restored in 1996 for $3 million), St. Colman's School and Convent in Turtle Creek, St. Mark's School in McKees Rocks, and the buildings of St. Scholastica's parish in Aspinwall. He published two nationally read books on ecclesiastical design and served two decades on the Pittsburgh Architectural Club. By the late 1920s he had married, fathered six children in seven years, and was at the height of his career.
The Garden House comes from the better years. It is among Weber's earlier, smaller, more residential commissions, but it carries everything he cared about — the long stuccoed walls, the great chimneys, the heavy slate roof shaped to suggest thatch, the patient medievalism worn lightly. It is what one of America's premier ecclesiastical architects did when he turned, briefly, to a single family's house.
The clearest surviving sample of Weber's design hand — apart from the buildings themselves — is the cornerstone-laying programme he designed for the School of Applied Design of the Carnegie Institute of Technology (now Carnegie Mellon University), dated April 25, 1912. The cornerstone was placed by Dr. William N. Frew, the Pittsburgh philanthropist, with contributions from students of the four schools laid inside it by the institute's first president, Dr. Arthur A. Hamerschlag. The programme itself reads like a vow: a pageant representing the Greek & Roman, Egyptian, Oriental, Medieval, Renaissance, 17th–18th century, and Modern periods of art, with selections by the Carnegie Choir and the band.
The design is unmistakably Weber's: a gothic-medieval scroll, lettering hand-drawn in the manner of an illuminated manuscript, a vignette at the bottom of the cornerstone with mason's tools and laurel — the same medievalism, the same patience, the same affection for the past, that would appear in stone and stucco on Amberson Avenue exactly one year later.
Less written-about than his churches and houses is Weber's work as a designer of cemetery monuments. The presentation drawing below — a single tableau showing four monument designs arranged in an idealized landscape — survives in the Garden House archive and is signed in the credit line at lower right, "Edward J. Weber Designer." Two of the names are legible (Kilgar and Gruber); the others are too soft to make out. The compositions are gothic and pediment-temple variants: Celtic-cross headstones, small gothic-arched markers, and a temple-front mausoleum, drawn with the same patience that shaped his church facades.
The Garden House archive holds three full sheets of pencil sketches Weber drew of his family in a single afternoon — Saturday, February 24, 1932. The household sat for him, room by room. He worked through them: Jack at the table making a face, Catherine with her rosary, Edward at his desk, Jack again in bed, Eileen reading, his wife sewing, the baby in her arms, his own father in his glasses, the children clustered together. Across the three sheets are something like fifteen separate studies, all dated to that one day, each labeled in his own light hand. They are intimate, attentive, careful. It is the architect at home, in the year his career was ending, drawing the people in front of him.
Two close-ups before the sheets:
And the three full sheets, in the order they appear in the archive:
The page below is the closing piece of the Weber archive. Nine small architectural sketches, each in its own pencil-drawn frame, each with a recipient's name on a banner across the top — Mrs. Weber, Miss Porter, Mrs. Palmer, Lillian, Mabel, Mr. Walker, Mrs. Colburn, Mr. Unger — and each labeled at the bottom with a European subject he loved: Avignon, Toledo, Cahors, Saint-Chamond, Venice, the Pont Neuf in Paris, the Rialto. They are gift drawings, made for friends and family. The Pont d'Avignon is the one for his wife. The whole page is the Beaux-Arts–trained, Old-World-haunted architect of the Garden House at his most generous: making small, careful, beautiful objects to give away.
Sources for this section: the original 1996 research report on the house's history (in Documents); Walter Kidney, Landmark Architecture of Pittsburgh and Allegheny County (Pittsburgh History & Landmarks Foundation); Franklin Toker, Pittsburgh: An Urban Portrait; Patricia Lowry, "An Architect Out of Time," Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, February 9, 1997; "Architecture Around Us: Medieval Meets Modern in the Work of Edward J. Weber," Western Pennsylvania History (Penn State Press).
Walter Kidney described the Garden House's roof as one that "does not imitate, yet in its form implies, thatch." The technique behind that effect has a name. The roof is a Weatherbest Thatched Straw Effect Roof — a system of stained, curved red cedar shingles developed by the Weatherbest Stained Shingle Co. of North Tonawanda, New York, and patterned after the old straw roofs of English cottages. A 1928 Weatherbest installation manual lives in the house's reference library and is the single best document for any future roofer.
The technique is unmistakable once you know what to look for. Standard red cedar shingles are bent — by the manufacturer, before shipping — into precise radii so they can wrap around features that ordinary shingles can't: 20-inch radius for ridge caps and the curve at the eaves, 14-inch radius for hips and valleys, 10-inch radius for the rolls at the rakes. The flat shingles for the open roof faces have their butts sawn in a special "thatch" pattern so that, laid in irregular wavy courses with a 2-to-3-inch exposure, they read as the soft, beaten-down lines of straw. The rafters underneath are furred up about 5 to 6 inches midway between eaves and ridges — a deliberate hump — so the finished roof carries the gentle convex curve of an old English cottage rather than the flat plane of a modern roof.
The colors specified for the original system were "weathered straw" in three blended shades, with the option of a touch of dull red and brownish green to break the monotone. The shingles arrived from the factory pre-mixed in the right proportions; the carpenter laid them as they came from the bundle.
Two practical notes for whoever maintains this roof in the future. First: the system was designed for 20-plus years of life per coat, but the curved shingles cannot simply be replaced with off-the-shelf flat ones — the radii matter. Second: while the Weatherbest company itself is long gone, the system is well-documented and a competent slate-and-shingle contractor with the original installation book in hand can re-create it. The 1928 manual is digitized in the house's reference library, with full specifications, drawings of the rafter geometry, and the exact nailing schedule.
Source: Weatherbest Thatched Straw Effect Roofs: The Construction of Thatch Straw Effect Roofs with WEATHERBEST Thatched Stained Shingles, Weatherbest Stained Shingle Co., Inc., North Tonawanda, NY, 1928 (PDF in the house's documents archive).
704 Amberson appears in PHLF News — the magazine of the Pittsburgh History & Landmarks Foundation — in the Spring 1991 issue, page 11, as one of the photographic exemplars of an essay titled "The Two Pittsburghs."
The article's argument: by the early twentieth century, two distinct Pittsburghs had come into being. The first was the city the world knew — the river valleys, the railroads, the supreme fact of industry. The second was the residential Pittsburgh of western Oakland, Hazelwood, the East End, Sewickley, Thornburg, Dormont, Avalon, Bellevue, Fox Chapel: places where, the wind being favorable, it was possible to ignore industry except as an economic fact. "Places of escape, or perhaps simply of healthy, normal living." The Garden House sits squarely inside the article's second category, and the photograph chosen to illustrate it is the front facade of 704 Amberson.
The house was built for Louis Brown (b. December 22, 1861, New York City) and his wife Lulu Eaton Brown (b. June 1872, New York State), in the year Louis became president of the Oil Well Supply Company. They had been married since 1890. They had one child, Margaret, born the year after.
Louis was raised and educated in Oswego, New York. He was hired by an iron firm in New York City at seventeen, sent to Germany on its behalf at nineteen, and arrived in Pittsburgh in 1889 at age twenty-eight as assistant manager of the National Tube Company's local office. Within a year he had met Lulu Eaton — daughter of John Eaton, the founder and president of the Pittsburgh-based Oil Well Supply Company. They married in 1890 and lived for the next twenty-three years in the Eaton family home at 705 Devonshire Street, a block north and east of Amberson. Louis joined his father-in-law's firm as second assistant treasurer in 1891, rose to treasurer in the 1890s, and in 1911 — after John Eaton's death — became its president.
The move to 704 Amberson followed two years later. Lulu purchased the lot in April 1913; the building permit was issued that September; the house was occupied within months. The 1920 census lists three live-in servants in residence: a cook, a maid, and a butler — Emanuel Yuon, who had followed the family from the Devonshire Street house. The Browns lived here, in this house Weber built, until their deaths within nine months of each other: Lulu on August 12, 1929; Louis on May 2, 1930.
Their daughter Margaret had moved away by then, to Pasadena, California. The house stood empty for the next fifteen years — through the worst of the Depression and all of the Second World War — until Margaret sold it in June 1945.
Callie J. Aiken's 1913 deed to Lulu Brown contained restrictions that shaped the house — and the block around it — for the next hundred years. Worth knowing for anyone who lives here.
These covenants were the mechanism by which the Aiken family ensured that the new houses on the subdivided estate "complemented existing structures in the Amberson Avenue area." They are why the block looks the way it does.
From Louis and Lulu Brown to the Crivella family — every owner of 704 Amberson Avenue, with the deed dates and prices.
w466968_* photographs in the archive are from the 2003 listing — they show the house as the Steitz family had kept it. Subsequent renovations and the garden development that earned the house its current name are chronicled below.Source materials: The 1996 ownership-history research report (commissioned by a previous owner; full text in Documents). Allegheny County Recorder of Deeds records. Pittsburgh city directories. U.S. census records 1900, 1910, 1920.
When did neighbors start using the name "The Garden House"? Tell that story here, in a few sentences.
A few sentences on what makes the gardens distinctive — the species, the layout, the rhythm of bloom from March through October.
A timeline of the major work done to the house — what was changed, what was preserved, and why.
A "Home & Garden Concept Diagram" produced by Harry Levine, Architect (5301 Walnut St., Suite 201, Pittsburgh PA 15232) for the Crivella renovation. Two drawings on one sheet: the site plan with the full Lot 12, fences and lot lines, neighbor reference (N/F Guy Catone, D.B.V. 7400, p. 396), and the labeled garden zones — Enchanted House & Garden, Garden Shed, Children's Portal, Vehicular Storage; alongside a floor plan of the house with the room-by-room program (Mechanical, Bath, Gallery, Stair, Domestic Engineering, etc.). It is the document of intent for the work that became the Garden House as it stands today.
Where there was no surviving original, the restoration worked from the historical photographs themselves. The fragment below is a blowup of a fence detail taken from one of the period photos in the archive. Measurement lines were drawn across known features, and a single dimension — 5½ inches — was used as the reference scale to back-calculate the spacings, post heights, and finial sizes of the original fence. The kind of working document that doesn't normally survive a project, but that explains why the rebuilt fence sits where it does.
Vintage shots of the house, the gardens, and the neighborhood. Click any image to enlarge.
Photographs documenting the major work done to the house — what was changed, what was preserved, and the evidence of both.