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ARNOLD W. BRUNNER 
 
 AFTER THE PORTRAIT IN THE ACADEMY OF DESIGN 
 BY IRVING R. WILES 
 
By 
 
 ROBERT I. AITKEN 
 : EDWIN H. BLASHFIELD gee 
 Bee. _ DANIEL C. FRENCH © | Pa 
 2 “CLAYTON HAMILTON is 
 J. HORACE McFARLAND 
 : _ BRANDER MATTHEWS 
 pee BRAND. WHITLOCK 
 CHARLES HARRIS WHITAKER 
 
 iy 
 
= enh) ge CopyricutT, 1926 
 er hae Press OF THE AMERICAN INSTITUTE OF ARCH 
 
ARNOLD W. BRUNNER 
 
 THE MAN 
 
 J 
 
 T MUST have been sometime in the year 1910 that I met Arnold 
 Brunner for the first time; the year is not quite so vivid in my 
 memory as the event, nor of so much importance, for it was of 
 importance, to me at least, as the making of a friend must always be. 
 It was in the new post office at Cleveland, then in process of con- 
 struction; Arnold Brunner was the architect of that building, and I can 
 see him now as I saw him then, in the midst of the dust and disorder, the 
 noise and turmoil of the bewildering task, a trim, energetic figure, quite 
 immaculate and serene, as smartly turned out as though he were going 
 for a leisurely stroll down Fifth Avenue, if gentlemen were still strolling 
 leisurely down Fifth Avenue in those days, though his manner, per- 
 haps, should not be called leisurely, so hard did he work all the time. 
 He came up briskly, with the confident manner characteristic of him, 
 his eyes sparkling behind their glasses and his engaging smile lighting 
 up the distinguished face with the close-clipped pointed beard. What 
 we said I do not remember; he showed us about, I suppose, but as 
 buildings under construction never interested me so much as they might 
 hope to do—if they cared for my opinion—later on when they had 
 miraculously got themselves finished, and out of their chaos had evolved 
 that order and symmetry in which their designers’ dreams come true, 
 I suspect that I enjoyed more keenly the talk that we had over our 
 luncheon afterward. Frank Millet, the artist who went down on the 
 Titanic, was of our small party, and we talked about painting and 
 afterward went to look at the mural decorations that Millet was doing 
 for one of the public buildings then being erected in Cleveland. 
 There were a good few of these, for Cleveland in those days, under 
 its mayor, Tom Johnson, was beginning to realize itself as a great city, 
 
8 ASR NSO Dep ew 9B RU: NEN ak 
 
 and was being transformed rapidly from a sprawling mid-western town 
 into a modern metropolis. The old haphazard way of letting a town 
 grow up as it pleased was being abandoned, and the new public build- 
 ings were being designed with a view to a harmonious ensemble, so 
 that, besides their utility, they might have beauty as well. Arnold 
 Brunner had designed not only the new post office, and the new court 
 house and the new customs house and I know not what other new 
 buildings besides. He was appointed a member of the Board of Super- 
 vision of Public Buildings and Grounds in Cleveland, and was, I think, 
 then or later, president, and I fancy that it was very largely his genius 
 that inspired the whole plan that was adopted for the grouping of the 
 new public buildings. 
 
 He had indeed a genius for this kind of work. Nobody gave more 
 thought or deeper study to the problem of building cities than he; no 
 one was more intimately or responsibly associated with the remarkable 
 movement in favor of municipal order and beauty in America, and no- 
 body achieved more lasting practical results. It came to be, in a sense, 
 his life-work. It may not at once be apparent what a tremendous task 
 this was. Town councilmen in those days, and for aught I know in 
 these, were apt to look upon such schemes as the illusions of impractical 
 dreamers and visionaries, and with something of the distrust of any 
 esthetic suggestion that must always exist in democracies. To accom- 
 plish what he did, Arnold Brunner had not only to overcome this 
 distrust and allay these suspicions of the artistic, but he had to devote 
 an appalling amount of time and study to problems that the practical 
 city fathers had never imagined. 
 
 “They think that I want them to let me tie pink ribbons on the 
 lamp-posts,” he once complained to me, in as near an approach to de- 
 spair as he was capable of. But with him such moments did not last 
 long. He was smiling again, even before the phrase was finished, for 
 he had his vision and his faith. In his imagination he saw not only the 
 building he was designing; he saw all the other buildings that then were 
 standing in the town, many of which no doubt he would have pulled 
 
miter i ALN 9 
 
 down if he could, and, what was more difficult, he saw all the buildings 
 that were to be erected in that town in the future. He was obliged to 
 study not only the problems proper to the architect, but he had to 
 study economics, the incidence of taxation, the mysterious movements 
 of traffic, trade, and population; he had to see the town, not as it looked 
 to its contemporary inhabitants, but as it was going to look to the 
 men of fifty or a hundred years hence. And that was not all; he had 
 to study the ways of politicians, and exercise the tact of a diplomat in 
 dealing with them. 
 
 It was a subject in which I was interested in those days, for I then 
 had the honor to be mayor of my own city of Toledo, where there 
 was building to be done as well as in Cleveland. In many of these 
 works Arnold Brunner became our adviser. He designed a city hall, 
 a bridge, a group of public buildings, and guided our commission in its 
 preparation of a city plan. It was during those years that our friend- 
 ship ripened and that I came to know him best. He was an artist in 
 the fullest sense. His culture was broad, his appreciation instant, and 
 his judgment sound; he knew not only his own art, or the one he 
 practised, but he knew something of all the arts, and conceivably might 
 have practised any one of them had he chosen. He could talk of paint- 
 ing, or of literature, and his coming was always a pleasure, because one 
 knew there would be something besides shop to talk about. There was 
 something of the Renaissance about him; in spirit and achievement 
 he reminded one of the artists of those times, because they were not 
 only artists, but men of affairs as well. He combined their sense of 
 the practical with their appreciation of the beautiful. He had their 
 robust faith in themselves, their enormous energy, their industry, their 
 healthy attitude toward life, their vision of beauty and utility in har- 
 monious combination, their gaiety and their joy in their work. And he 
 will be remembered as one of the pioneers in that remarkable move- 
 ment which has made America the leader of the work in architecture. 
 
 The long list of public buildings that he designed and erected, and 
 of the cities— Baltimore, Rochester, Denver, Albany—for which he 
 
10 ARN O-LDSD Wi ib RU NONCE 
 
 prepared plans or whose rulers he advised in their improvements on 
 the grand scale, is the best testimony to his authority in this field. 
 President Roosevelt, with his flair for rare and special ability, recog- 
 nized Arnold Brunner as one of the men best qualified in this respect; 
 he appointed him a member of the National Commission of Fine Arts, 
 and Arnold Brunner played no small part in carrying out L’Enfant’s 
 long-neglected plan for the embellishment of Washington. As a citizen 
 and as a member of the Fine Arts Commission he did a great deal for his 
 own city of New York, which he loved so well and for which he 
 labored so hard. He was a kind of ideal citizen, really fond of civic 
 activities, and fond of talking about the problems that perplexed and 
 fascinated him. It was a pleasure to listen to him, for he was a good 
 conversationalist and had an engaging way of communicating his own 
 interest and enthusiasm. He had a sense of humor that enlivened his 
 discourse, for he did not wish anyone to think that he took himself 
 too seriously. This same ability made him a compelling lecturer, and 
 he went about all over the country, often at a sacrifice to himself, 
 delivering addresses to civic bodies on his favorite subject of city plan- 
 ning, illustrating his talks with lantern slides and brightening them by 
 incidents of his wide travels. He was, as I have already said, interested 
 in all the arts, especially in the art of painting, and his holidays were 
 often spent in sketching tours in America and England and France. 
 But his chief happiness, after all, was in the work of his own profession. 
 He was a man of enormous industry and wore himself out, I fear, with 
 hard work, for to accomplish all that he did, to answer the exacting 
 demands of his profession, to travel day and night, and to give lectures, 
 as it were, in the intervals of his labors, required an enormous expendi- 
 ture of vital force. But he did it all willingly and gladly, even gaily, 
 and as though it was nothing at all, and never spared himself. 
 
 It is agreeable to think that the splendid structures he built all over 
 the land will stand as monuments to his remarkable achievement. For 
 it is a remarkable achievement, just how remarkable his friends are 
 only beginning to realize now that he is gone. The sad news of his 
 
 eee 
 
7oriehe= MAN Il 
 
 passing came with that peculiar shock which one feels on hearing of 
 the death of someone very young; it was so unexpected and so pre- 
 mature that it seemed quite incredible. He seemed to be in the full 
 flush and vigor of his life, the full tide of his strenuous activity. It 
 never occurred to one that his activities were so near their end; he was 
 so young, so debonair, so full of the energy and enthusiasm that belong 
 to youth alone. It is a pleasant and inspiring memory that he leaves, 
 the memory of a friend who was a master of his art, not only because 
 he had developed his talents and his power to the utmost, but because 
 he was intelligently interested in so many other wonderful and beau- 
 
 tiful things that lay outside its scope. 
 BRAND WHITLOCK 
 
 Mi 
 
 HE ARCHITECT is not only the most communal of artists; 
 
 he is also the most self-effacing. Although he works in durable 
 materials, rearing monuments that may outlast such lofty civili- 
 zations as those of Egypt, Greece, and Rome, his name is writ in water. 
 Every school-child knows the name of Phidias, the sculptor who 
 adorned the Parthenon; but few college presidents could tell the name 
 of the architect who designed that perfect building. The architect 
 produces art for the sake of the public, and neglects to sign his com- 
 positions. Even among cultured people, how many in a thousand know 
 the names of the architects who planned the Taj Mahal, the Maison 
 Carrée at Nimes, the Roman Colosseum, the Sainte Chapelle in Paris, 
 the nave of Amiens, the choir of Lincoln, or the towers of Chartres? 
 In this present period of extravagant publicity, column after column 
 
 in the public press is devoted to the celebration of second-rate painters, 
 third-rate sculptors, fourth-rate authors, fifth-rate actors, sixth-rate 
 musicians, and seventh-rate motion-picture directors; whereas very 
 little is ever said in print concerning the achievements of those archi- 
 
12 ARN O:TD ea seuenet N NG ER 
 
 tects who have designed our finest national and civic monuments. The 
 noblest tower of Manhattan Island is known to the general public by 
 the name of Mr. F. W. Woolworth, who paid for it, instead of being 
 known by the name of the architect who designed it. It is as if the 
 Rembrandts in the Metropolitan Museum of Art should be signed and 
 labelled with the name of Mr. Benjamin Altman, who purchased them 
 and gave them to the public. It is not at all surprising, therefore, that 
 not one American citizen in a hundred thousand can name the archi- 
 tect who designed the dome of the National Capitol in Washington. 
 
 Because the architect works publicly for the public, he must be a 
 man of the world; because the execution of his projects requires the 
 expenditure of large amounts of money, he must be a man of affairs; 
 but, because his work is very nearly anonymous, he must almost neces- 
 sarily remain a modest man. 
 
 It is not surprising, therefore, that, when Arnold Brunner died, on 
 the 14th of February, 1925, the man in the street was scarcely aware 
 that the United States had suffered an appreciable loss; yet this modest 
 man was one of our leading architects and most serviceable citizens. In 
 many cities of this country it would be possible to say of Arnold Brunner, 
 “If you seek his monument—look about you.” The state building at 
 Harrisburg, the post office in Cleveland, the School of Mines at Columbia, 
 the stadium of the College of the City of New York, the cadet hospital 
 at West Point, the great bridge at Harrisburg—these are only a few 
 of the anonymous achievements which have benefited hundreds of 
 thousands of American citizens to whom the name of their benefactor 
 is unknown. 
 
 It is particularly fitting that, when an architect of the calibre of Arnold 
 Brunner has completed his life’s work, his achievements should be re- 
 corded and commemorated by a jury of his peers. Mr. Brunner’s mani- 
 fold activities brought him into intimate contact with the leaders in many 
 other lines of artistic and communal endeavor; and, in the present volume, 
 these activities will be expounded by several of his most eminent col- 
 laborators and associates. In this informal appreciation, it remains for 
 
THE MAN 13 
 
 the present writer only to say a little about Arnold Brunner in his 
 private capacity as a gentleman and as a friend. 
 
 He was one of the most clubbable of men. In New York, he was 
 a popular member of the Century Association, the Engineers’ Club, and 
 The Players; in Washington, of the Cosmos Club; and, in Cleveland, of 
 the Union Club; but, of these, his favorite haunt was The Players, which 
 was situated just across Gramercy Park from hisapartment at 1 Lexington 
 Avenue. Down in the basement of this old home of Edwin Booth’s, at 
 fivethirty in the afternoon, a silence used to fall, as if the congregated 
 ghosts of the great dead which haunt that hallowed region were expect- 
 ing the arrival of an equal; and then the silence would be interrupted 
 by the tapping of quick feet on the marble stairs, and Arnold Brunner 
 would appear, with an expansive gesture of the arms, as if he were pre- 
 paring to shake hands simultaneously with a dozen friends. Then ensued 
 what, to a score of members of The Players, was generally known as 
 Arnold Brunner’s hour. He was fluent, brisk, and copious in talk, but 
 never garrulous. He dominated the conversation merely because, in very 
 truth, he had the most to say. He never mentioned architecture and 
 rarely referred to any of the arts, except perhaps the current drama; 
 but he talked keenly and acutely about the events of the day and the 
 public problems of the moment. In his customary conversation, he 
 seemed less like an artist than like a successful man of affairs and a 
 public-spirited citizen. 
 
 In appearance, also, he seemed more like the president of a bank or 
 of a railroad than like the shy and almost furtive artist of those delicate 
 sketches in pen and ink and water colors which are illustrated in 
 the present volume. He was always finely dressed, with that little touch 
 of dignified formality which became a gentleman whose manners had 
 been inherited from a generation more punctilious than that which now 
 is pushing to the front. Though he was not a tall man, he had a fine 
 figure and carried himself like a soldier. He was distinctly good-looking, 
 and, in any company, would catch the eye, as one who had authority. 
 
 Yet he never talked about himself, except to narrate humorously 
 
14 AcRIN O CeD- pay a Dako. NENGE CR 
 
 his unavoidable contentions with the ignorant politicians whose tem- 
 porary positions oftentimes permitted them to interfere with the ex- 
 ecution of his communal designs. He was never happier than when he 
 told a joke upon himself — except when he was able to render a service 
 to some fellow-artist. He was one of the kindest and most generous of 
 men; and he seemed always to glory more in the successes of his friends 
 than in his own. 
 
 For many years, while I was actively engaged as a critic of the cur- 
 rent drama, it was necessary for me to attend the theatre almost every 
 night, and it was understood between my wife and myself that we 
 could never go to dinner parties. To this domestic rule we made one 
 exception, and only one. Whenever we were invited to dine at the 
 Arnold Brunner’s, we accepted immediately, regardless of the theatrical 
 calendar. There was no other household in New York in which it 
 was quite so agreeable to dine. The parties were always small, num- 
 bering usually from eight to twelve, and the company was always se- 
 lected with unerring tact. Arnold Brunner chose his friends not because 
 they were famous, or wealthy, or well placed, but because they were 
 intelligent and likable. There was never a dull person at his dinners; 
 and he bound his friends not only to himself, but to each other, with 
 bonds that were as light and tight as heart-strings. He did not star him- 
 self at his dinner-parties; he starred, instead, the charming woman who 
 was his wife, and of whose personal and social talents he was far more 
 proud than of any achievements of his own. And, quick and ready 
 though he was in talk, he was also an eager and an interested listener, 
 and was most happy to efface himself when the give and take between 
 his well-selected guests became most animated. 
 
 When Arnold Brunner died, many of his most intimate friends were 
 amazed to be informed that he was nearly sixty-eight years old. They 
 had always thought of him as a man in his fifties. His black hair was 
 scarcely touched with grey, his dark eyes were young and bright, his 
 complexion fresh and clear. He carried himself alertly, moved nimbly; 
 and his entire personality was electrified with an ardent and abounding 
 
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 <— i i 
 
ati oa M: AgN 15 
 
 energy. Nobody ever thought of age or illness in connection with 
 Arnold Brunner; and on this account his sudden death seemed, for 
 a long time, to his intimates, to be almost unbelievable. And perhaps 
 it is not over-fanciful to find an answer to this enigma in that maxim 
 of the Greeks—that those whom the gods love die young. 
 
 The years go on; but still a silence falls, at fivethirty in the after- 
 noon, in the basement of the old house in Gramercy Park which used 
 to be the home of Edwin Booth; and men like Oliver Herford, the artist, 
 and Robert Aitken, the sculptor, and a dozen others, still listen for the 
 tapping of quick feet adown the marble stairs which announces the 
 advent of Arnold Brunner’s hour. The dapper presence, the debonair 
 demeanor, the youthful exuberance, the healthy energy, the hearty 
 handshake, the rich and resonant laughter, the kindly word, the generous 
 suggestion —all these well-remembered traits sweep down the stairway 
 like a breeze from the front door; and they hover in the atmosphere 
 
 until the clock is nearing seven. 
 CLAYTON HAMILTON 
 
Te Bane ee er 
 
 ROADLY speaking, one may come into the practice of archi- 
 
 tecture by either the romantic or the pedantic route. These are 
 
 large terms, to be sure, and yet they make as good a general 
 definition of that sort as any other. Whether or no they are sufficiently 
 inclusive and defined to afford a comparison of the value of either route is 
 a question for the pedagogues. The sponsors of the romantic method will 
 stoutly contend that such is the road that genius always takes. What 
 the supporters of the other method will say is not difficult to imagine, 
 and in all that they say there will be some but not all of the truth. 
 To clarify, in the present instance, it might be said that the romantic 
 term here used would imply primarily a quest for beauty and a wish- 
 fulness ultimately to test one’s creative powers not wholly in a lucra- 
 tive sense. 
 
 Arnold W. Brunner, one would say without hesitation, was drawn 
 toward architecture by the magnet of romance rather than by the pale 
 austerities of academicism. Good fortune took him by the hand at an 
 early date, and together they crossed the Atlantic and came to a school 
 in England. Those who know anything of either the social or educa- 
 tional traditions of the English schools of the seventies of the last cen- 
 tury will not, upon reflection, be likely to consider that fortune did 
 him an ill turn. What greater problem of adjustment could a boy find 
 than in being plunged as the only American among a group of English 
 schoolboys? Although it is barely six decades ago, imagine what an 
 uitlander a young New Yorker would then have appeared, for the 
 English youth of that day were neither unaware of nor timid at looking 
 for and commenting upon the crudities that Americans were said to 
 possess in an unexampled manner. A rougher test in adaptation could 
 not have been given to a lad from the United States, and we may feel 
 quite sure that the qualities that Arnold Brunner later developed in — 
 his relations with men, both in private and in public life, the evidence 
 of which has in this volume been so sincerely chronicled, were solidly 
 
GRANADA 
 
 AFTER THE WATER COLOR BY MR. BRUNNER 
 
». = 
 
 | a a oy ae) | vv ‘S400 «2 7)" 
 ‘ ~ er Ve. =P. nn 
 a ae Peak bis 
 
 ‘- 
 
fariek -A R GeHEPaeEC 17 
 
 rooted in those early English experiences. Those qualities are as neces- 
 sary to an architect as to any other man whose calling requires that 
 he shall live a full and rounded life. If the method of implanting them 
 would seem too harsh for many a parent, even in a day when parental 
 authority was scarcely challenged, it had the merit of that thoroughness, 
 that deep-rootedness which has ever been one of the cardinal funda- 
 mentals of a masterful race. 
 
 Coming back to New York, Brunner went to a public school, but 
 it was not long ere there were definite stirrings and inclinations. The 
 record of his school-life in England is a scanty one, but it seems wholly 
 reasonable to suppose that the architectural savor of England had not 
 been missed, or that the lavish record of the building craftsmen, written 
 in wood and stone and brick wherever one may care to roam from 
 Land’s End to Thurso, had not escaped the eye that was later to guide 
 his hand in the making of the astonishing sketches that he has left. 
 Perhaps it was in coming back to New York that Brunner became sen- 
 sitive to the poverty of the American architecture of that day—a 
 desperate poverty, generally speaking, such as could hardly be realized 
 save by the American traveller abroad or the foreigner coming to our 
 shores. What more natural, then, than his determination to give over 
 his school and to take the romantic road that still might be found, in 
 those days, in the office of a practising architect? 
 
 The records, as I have said, are very scanty; merely a jotting here 
 and there; certain outstanding events and dates, and yet in the effort 
 to piece them together a certain fabric seems to weave itself and to be 
 quite clear in the pattern. Brunner had definitely chosen the archi 
 tectural career as a result of certain experiences, and inasmuch as an 
 architectural school was unheard of in the England of his school days, 
 it seems probable that he had become keenly aware, by contact and 
 observation, of what another age had done in building and had felt 
 the urge behind it all. But if the school did not suit, neither did the 
 office of an architect. Perhaps the vista there opened seemed over-long, 
 or perhaps the work was dull and uninspiring, or may it not have been 
 
18 A ReN*O LD Wosbee NEN OBER 
 
 that the new architectural school in Boston seemed the answer? We 
 shall never know for sure, but, in any event, Brunner soon left the 
 architect's office and went to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 
 the architectural department of which was then presided over by the 
 greatly beloved William R. Ware. From that institution he was gradu- 
 ated in the Class of "79, among the members of which were H. Langford 
 Warren, James Knox Taylor, William M. Kendall, Frank Alden, Robert 
 Harlow, and Wadsworth Longfellow, a group of men familiar to every 
 American who has even no more than a casual acquaintance with the 
 history of American architects and their works. Looking backward 
 to that day, this seems to have been a pretty tolerable achievement 
 for a youth of twenty-two, for Brunner was born in New York City, 
 September 25, 1857. 
 
 On coming back to New York City, he at once entered the office 
 of George B. Post, one of the then very prominent figures in American 
 architectural practice, and there he began diligently the process of fitting 
 the romantic and the pedantic to the practical, learning the steps by 
 which the dream emerges, assumes form and shape in drawings, and 
 ultimately is translated into the finished structure. Some four years or 
 thereabouts he must have kept at this task, for during the greater part 
 of the years 1884-85 he was roaming the continent of Europe. Shall 
 we opine that romance had again taken full sway? What else can one 
 imagine as one scans the pages whereon he recorded his impressions 
 and so plainly revealed the quality and extent of his interest? Only a 
 keen sense of something very akin to romance could have inspired the 
 record of that period that Arnold Brunner hasleft. The grandiose and the 
 monumental, the pedantic and the stylistic, were very obviously what 
 he was not seeking. His eye was for what we must call the homely 
 things, the vividly human things, the long steady flow of things. He 
 looked at architecture not as a pedant but as a poet. He sensed the 
 
 definite relationship between the flow of life and the flow of building, — 
 
 with its changing character, its streams of tendencies, its slow response 
 to new needs or to new methods. He saw also order, harmony, and 
 
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 Sie! - 5 lear, 4 
 na: Lat! 
 
Fico i oes es Oy | Std (edad bet OB 19 
 
 a decent regard for the structural ensemble that makes up every fine 
 communal growth, and the worth of which is determined, in every 
 way, not by the brilliant performance of individual artists but by the 
 common regard for that very decency of ensemble, once seemingly so 
 simple and today so difficult, almost so impossible. 
 
 With an accuracy, a spontaneity, a deftness that could hardly be 
 surpassed, he caught the living things—groups of peasant women at 
 the market, a knot of sailors sitting on a bench or leaning idly over a 
 parapet wall, a priest going languidly in the sun, a housewife in her 
 ancient kitchen, and then, relating all of these to the structural en- 
 vironment, to their daily comings and goings, and to the comings and 
 goings of long lines of forefathers, he drew gable ends, quaint chimney 
 pots, the delicious turn of a baluster, the upward flight of a stone stair, 
 the sweet curve of an iron railing or the simple pattern of a grill; door- 
 ways, windows, bits of carvings, capitals, a sculptured torso—all the 
 intimate touches that your true architect loves with a great joy, for in 
 them he recognizes the freedom and the skill of the master workers 
 that were and are no more. Turning the pages of Brunner’s sketch- 
 books one becomes aware of two things: the marvelous draughtsman- 
 ship that was his, and the still unmolded mind, free to feed avidly upon 
 the past, free to ripen slowly and so in some measure to prepare for 
 the new era that was just dawning in the United States. 
 
 On his return from Europe there was formed with Thomas Tryon 
 the partnership of Brunner & Tryon. During the period of this asso- 
 ciation nothing of note occurred. It was not until 1898, some time after 
 the firm had ceased, that Brunner won the competition for Mt. Sinai 
 Hospital in New York City and took his definite place among American 
 architects. Mt. Sinai was one of the noteworthy hospitals of its day, 
 as it still is, so it seems fair to conclude that Brunner must have brought 
 certain ripened talents to a competition which he was successful in 
 winning from a group of well-established practitioners. 
 
 The Federal Building at Cleveland was won in another competition 
 in 1901, again from a brilliant field, and coincident with this project 
 
20 AYR NOD D> Wet tbe aN aN THe 
 
 Brunner began to give great attention to the modern problems of city- 
 planning. Cleveland was one of the first cities seriously to consider a 
 group plan for its public buildings, but the movement was everywhere 
 taking form. Unfortunately, practically the entire attention of public- 
 spirited citizens was at that time concentrated on amelioration. Our 
 cities had developed at the whim and caprice of individual interest. 
 Everywhere was the unpleasant legacy of selfish seeking. Slums, conges- 
 tion, disorder,— and to a mind such as Arnold Brunner’s the spectacle 
 and the opportunity were accepted asa challenge. Of his labors in this 
 field others have written. Largely his dreams were unrealized during his 
 lifetime. The forces to be reckoned with were more stubborn than the 
 pioneers had imagined. In our optimism we believed that the remaking 
 of cities could be accomplished without disturbing the pecuniary factors 
 and processes by which these same cities had been built, but the prob- 
 lem was not so easy. The colossal blunders of the past were not to be so 
 easily undone, and yet to Arnold Brunner must be given the praise that 
 we accord to the pioneer, the stouthearted and the courageous adven- 
 turers in the wilderness that lies beyond established tradition and 
 hallowed custom. | 
 
 In 1910 the fever of the new era in American architecture was 
 pulsing high, for the authorities at Washington, long overdue in their 
 activities, had ventured upon certain large plans for the improvement 
 of the capital city. Indeed, the Plan of Washington, as it was called, 
 had been another of the prime factors in stimulating attention upon the 
 fast multiplying ills of American urban development. Growing out of 
 the intensive study of this plan came an architectural competition for 
 three buildings that were to be grouped as an element in the large 
 scheme, a comprehensive part of the great whole, the outline of which 
 was sketched in by Washington and L’Enfant as far back as 1793. The 
 competitors were in three sets, twenty for each of the buildings. There 
 were three independent juries and yet there was a common under- 
 standing, even an official instruction, that the buildings were to be 
 studied in design as a problem of harmonious relation. The pick of 
 
Pu tie bo 7h Cabicloiek Grob 21 
 
 the American profession competed for these now historic buildings 
 that were never built. Brunner won the commission to design the 
 building for the Department of State; York & Sawyer won the building 
 for Commerce and Labor; while Donn Barber won the building for 
 the Department of Justice. The architectural profession heaved a sigh 
 of satisfaction, for it seemed as though the capital city was really em- 
 barked upon an architectural plan that would give a tremendous impetus 
 to other cities and exercise a profound impression upon the growing 
 demand for better architecture. 
 
 But the end of this much-trumpeted project, as already intimated, 
 was an inglorious one. We need not venture far into a study of the 
 apathy of Congress or its reluctance to vote considerable sums for the 
 improvement of Washington. The temptation to spend money where 
 it will produce votes is not an unrecognized factor in American political 
 life, and this in spite of the fact that in 1910 the functions of govern- 
 ment in Washington were disgracefully housed, even as they have con- 
 tinued so to be ever since. Arnold Brunner never lived to see the frui- 
 tion of his plans. When he died, February 14, 1925, the vanished years 
 had seen the original site for which his design was made pass out of 
 the scene, and now the whole project will have to be studied anew. 
 But such as this were the heartbreaking vicissitudes of architectural 
 practice. What architect has not known them? What office has not 
 many such skeletons in the closet of dreams? Today, sixteen years after 
 the event, there looms in sight the possibility that Congress will finally 
 take cognizance of the deplorable situation it has so long ignored and 
 that gradually there may be begun an orderly public building program 
 for the capital city of the nation. 
 
 In this plan for Washington, Brunner took the keenest interest. 
 Indeed, from about 1900 on, he was leaning more and more toward 
 the larger aspects of architecture. City-planning claimed more and more 
 of his time. He had gone a long way from the dream period of 1884, 
 and yet the trail of those romantic days lies clear in many of his projects, 
 although there was a vast difference in scale. He was interested, deeply 
 
22 A°RUN- Of DW Bae UN aN bay 
 
 and intensely, in plans and projects out of which a sane and beneficent 
 architecture might be evolved. He had the pioneer’s faith. He had 
 the American confidence. He had the English patience. He had the 
 tenacity, the sense of scale, the insistence on esthetic factors that I 
 think he would have attributed to what he had learned during his 
 long rambles in France, the country he so loved and the people whose 
 reasonable outlook he so greatly admired. We shall reckon his place 
 in American architecture—in spite of the important buildings he de- 
 signed, in spite of the great project at Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, now 
 partially completed—more by the history of his unrealized dreams, by 
 the tale of his courage in grappling fearlessly with essentially new prob- 
 lems involving considerations and details such as no architect ever before 
 had to face. The pecuniary processes of city building are not lightly 
 to be tampered with, as we are beginning slowly and painfully to learn. 
 
 Looking backward to the sketch-books to which I have so often re- 
 ferred and then to the dreams of later life, we shall discover the imprint 
 of a man who found romance in both. Surely Arnold Brunner found a 
 considerable measure of it in the chessboard of American city problems. 
 Technically, the moves seemed simple and straightforward. Economi- 
 cally, there were checks at every turn. But for Brunner the romance 
 was there. It was rooted deep in the old communal development of 
 Europe, in the remembered harmonies that dwelt in many an old-time 
 ordered square and skyline, in the decencies that held individualism in 
 check. It was these things that Brunner wished in some manner to 
 expand and so lend them, on a great scale, to heal the gaping wounds 
 left by our unbridled individualism and the resultant growing pains of — 
 our American urban agglomerations. Architecture, in its true sense, 
 means that if it means anything. This Brunner felt deeply and that 
 feeling is the base upon which the true architect rests, for architecture is 
 primarily a social servant; only as it makes for order and serenity may 
 
 it claim to be the greatest of the arts. 
 CHARLES Harris WHITAKER 
 
EES GER eee EAN NER 
 
 RNOLD W. BRUNNER was an architect by profession and 
 also very much of a city planner by inclination. Including these 
 professional and technical qualifications in his capacity for use- 
 
 fulness, he was something more important than either or both—a 
 militant good citizen, an eloquent advocate, a man with a passion for 
 useful, orderly beauty in everyday surroundings, not only in the home 
 and in the office but in the street and in the city. He thought, worked, 
 and spoke continually for the advantage of the eyes of the so-called 
 “plain people” who crowd the streets and live in most of the houses 
 in our yet generally ugly cities. 
 
 As an architect I have no competence to estimate or discuss his 
 achievements; save in one important instance, I have no detailed 
 knowledge of what he did. I do know that he had a noble concep- 
 tion of his profession, as evidenced in an address made in 1915 to 
 the National Institute of Arts and Letters, meeting in Boston, in which 
 he said: 
 
 “We architects are the scene painters of the world. Much of the 
 scenery, the backgrounds of great events, remain today as records, and 
 are more convincing than written history. Constructed of enduring 
 materials these scenes of marble, granite and bronze bring to our senses 
 a vivid realization of stirring actions and heroic deeds of actors long 
 since gone. ¥ 
 
 As acity planner I can speak of what he dreamed and attempted, and 
 somewhat of what he did, from the standpoint of a civic observer who 
 for a quarter of a century has striven to make American communities 
 better places in which to live, visiting in that wholly unofficial endeavor 
 a halfthousand of the cities, towns, and villages of this great nation. 
 
 In his city-planning work, Mr. Brunner remarkably combined the 
 practicabilities of any situation to which his genius was applied. He 
 knew his subject instinctively as well as from full study and wide travel, 
 and this instinctive basis comes rather close, I think, to that quality 
 
24 ARNOLD W. BRUNNER 
 
 which we call genius, and which adds to unremitting effort a spiritual 
 insight that no man of mere painstaking application could ever provide. 
 
 It was, then, this quality of insight or of genius that caused Arnold 
 Brunner to see past the mere trafhc arrangement, the street layout, 
 the location of public buildings, and so to conceive them to be put 
 together as to place in the eye of the common people those forms of 
 beauty that make life so much better worth living. 
 
 That his conception of city-planning was sound and very different 
 from the thought based on many of the relatively ornamental cities of 
 Europe, in which beauty sometimes acts as a front for squalor, was 
 well proved when in his memorable Baltimore report, written in 1910, 
 he said, in addressing the mayor and the government of that city, and 
 speaking as well for his associates, John M. Carrére and Frederick 
 Law Olmsted: 
 
 “T. shall not speak of the city beautiful, which seems to imply sculp- 
 ture, fountains and a world of pretty things; that is not what our Com- 
 mission has in mind at all. The City Sensible is more to the point. . . . 
 A city should be treated as a whole and should have a plan the same 
 as a building. It may not be built from plans and specifications and 
 finished according to contract, but it must follow some definite pre- 
 arranged scheme. | 
 
 “Most of our cities straggle and develop in a haphazard fashion. 
 The majority of them ‘just growed,’ like Topsy. No one would under- 
 take a business operation of any magnitude without looking ahead and 
 making some provision for the future. The average city does just the con- 
 trary, and with few regulations for guidance and no provision for future 
 expansion and growth, congestion and irregularities occur which are the 
 cause of great inconvenience. Mistakes are made and much unnecessary 
 expense is the result of the changing and re-changing found necessary. 
 
 “It is quite possible to regulate the growth of a city. We regulate 
 the trafic in the streets and naturally submit to the rules of the Fire, 
 Health, and Building Departments, and so the control of the expansion 
 of streets and buildings is logical and proper. A crowd left to its own 
 
io tit ee al ebayer Pal ANON ER 25 
 
 devices becomes a mob; the same crowd drilled and properly led be- 
 comes an army. es 
 
 “The importance of civic beauty is admitted, but there is a general 
 feeling that it is extravagant and that you cannot afford it. It is not 
 extravagance; it is economy. ; 
 
 “A number of ornate buildings, scattered here and there and built 
 on streets that are too narrow to receive them, and expensive monu- 
 ments, placed on inadequate sites, cannot make a beautiful city. Buildings 
 that are excellent in themselves are ineffective unless properly placed. 
 Fountains and statues demand proper positions and well-designed sur- 
 roundings or their beauty is lost.” 
 
 When it is realized that these words were written a half-generation 
 ago, the prophetic quality of Mr. Brunner’s thought and recommenda 
 tion is apparent. That he thought of zoning as a necessary part of a 
 city’s progress long before that name had been applied to the regula- 
 tion of the height, area, and use of buildings in cities, appeared in his 
 “Studies for Albany,” prepared at the request of the mayor of that city 
 in 1913. He then gave utterance as follows: 
 
 “To preserve the streets, a law regulating the height of buildings is 
 absolutely necessary. It seems obvious that buildings should be pro- 
 portioned to the width of the street upon which they are built. The 
 streets belong to the citizens and no individual should be allowed to 
 ruin them. One of the greatest elements of beauty in the most noted 
 streets of Europe is due to the fact that the height of the buildings is 
 restricted. Several American cities have already passed laws to this 
 effect, and these laws have been found to be constitutional by the courts. 
 Boston, for instance, has different limits in different parts of the city, 
 varying from 80 to 125 feet, and New York City has just passed a law 
 which is extremely liberal but is a long step in the right direction. 
 
 “Albany at present has not been spoiled by groups of skyscrapers, 
 a fact that makes it comparatively easy now for it to pass laws limiting 
 the height of buildings.” 
 
 It is a regret that I have not notes made at the time of the utter- 
 
26 A-RN OLD -W,-- BRU NGNaE sa: 
 
 ance of one of Mr. Brunner’s characteristic and picturesque descriptions 
 of that part of New York City almost wholly given over to what is 
 known as “The Great White Way at Night,” and which ought to be 
 known through its daytime appearance of machinery for light signs as 
 “The Great Black Mess in the Daytime.” Ican quote, however, from this 
 same Albany report sententious utterances showing his conception of 
 the street furnishings and of the advertising difficulties: 
 
 “Necessary evils, such as trolley poles, may be inoffensive or they 
 may be violently objectionable. Letter-boxes, fire-hydrants, and the like 
 may be inconspicuous or glaringly evident. Street signs may be positive 
 annoyances or examples of excellent lettering. The electroliers, of all 
 things, must be well designed or they may exercise a direful influence 
 on their surroundings. A good electrolier costs no more than an ugly 
 Ones se 
 “No city or no street is free from the advertising nuisance. Great 
 efforts are now being made in many parts of the country to limit and 
 restrict advertising so that the most beautiful buildings and parks shall 
 not be spoiled. Legitimate advertising is often so exaggerated that the 
 insistence of the business of the individual at the expense of the rights 
 and feelings of the public has become a scandal. The billboard, unless 
 kept within careful bounds, has become a public enemy and every 
 means should be taken to suppress it.” 
 
 This Albany report is of peculiar interest to me because it relates 
 to one instance in which I quite unconsciously collaborated before the 
 act, and not after it, with Mr. Brunner. 
 
 Sometime early in the second decade of this century, Mr. Bok, of 
 The Ladies’ Home Journal, had agreed with me that it was worth while 
 to make effort toward having American state capital cities better in- 
 dicative of the security and self-respect of the governmental functions 
 of the states they lead. This brought about visits to many state capi- 
 tals and resulted in a series of pages for the magazine concerning these 
 capitals, the pages being wholly pictorial and the story only in the 
 legends under the pictures. 
 
 Ret 
 S, aq 
 ae 
 an tes 
 - 
 = 
 
ebietheeee lok yore A NEN ER 27 
 
 Now Albany, New York, was one of the cities visited, as was 
 Trenton, the capital of New Jersey. The Trenton page was first printed. 
 It was absolutely truthful, to be sure, but it opened to the eyes of 
 Trenton a condition of public squalor and general ugliness which had 
 been complacently accepted for a long time, but the publication of which 
 was bitterly resented. The immediate outcome was a letter to the 
 publisher of The Ladies’ Home Journal, denying the facts. The morning 
 after a copy of it reached me, I was in Trenton looking for the writer 
 who had, however, found it convenient to be away that day. I first 
 visited all the localities and found that nothing had happened to change 
 the situation, and then called at the City Hall, where an endeavor was 
 made at once to put me on the defensive. Not ten minutes passed be- 
 fore there was complete admission that the pictures were accurate. 
 The outcome was happy, for Trenton did have ideas of betterment, 
 and Trenton since has excellently begun to carry them out, possibly 
 hastened considerably by seeing herself as others saw her. 
 
 The Albany page was much worse than the Trenton page, because 
 the rail and water approach both provided for Albany an even more 
 impressively disregardful and ugly condition than that relating to 
 Trenton. Inasmuch as publication was delayed, it seemed wise to go 
 to Albany and note whether conditions had changed. It was in con- 
 nection with this visit that I had one of my first contacts with Mr. 
 Brunner, from whose “Studies for Albany” I have above quoted. He 
 had seized upon the very things that my completely made-up page of 
 pictures painfully and glaringly showed, and had proposed plans for 
 making beauty and orderliness where there was only unpleasant dis- 
 regard for either. Of course, the page was dropped, and it was one of 
 the unconscious victories of a picturesque journalistic campaign for 
 which the editor properly took credit in “The Americanization of 
 Edward Bok.” 
 
 Somewhat in the same general direction, but without the picturesque 
 accessories, was acquaintance with the city of Rochester, to which city 
 
 1Charles Downing Lay, collaborating Landscape Architect. 
 
28 ARN O°L DoW. SB aReG ae 
 
 I had taken the general story of city betterment and city planning, 
 without knowledge that Mr. Brunner wasassociated with Bion J. Arnold 
 and Frederick Law Olmsted in plans for better things for that city. 
 Looking now at the “City Plan for Rochester” I am the more impressed 
 with the sane soundness of the plan, with its practicability, and with 
 deep regret that while Rochester has listened to these prophets, she has 
 not as yet given full heed to their voices. 
 
 Mr. Brunner’s introductory remarks to the Rochester report are 
 very much in point: 
 
 “Rochester is exceptionally agreeable among American cities of its 
 size; it is prosperous; it is growing. What occasion is there for improve- 
 ment? Just because it is prosperous and growing Rochester must take 
 steps to meet the changing conditions forced upon it by that growth, or 
 in the absence of improvement will come deterioration; for a living city 
 cannot stand still. 
 
 “The main physical features of the city, over which the municipality 
 alone has responsible comprehensive control are, (1) the means of local 
 transportation, consisting of streets and the street railways and other 
 public services that use them and thereby multiply their usefulness; 
 and (2) the public buildings and public open spaces for every kind of 
 use. All of these must be considered with regard to their net value 
 to the community from the point of view of their practical efficiency 
 and from that of their contribution to the agreeableness of the city as 
 a place of residence and of industry.” 
 
 I might speak at length of that group plan for the city of Cleveland 
 in which Mr. Brunner collaborated with Daniel H. Burnham and 
 John M. Carrére, which was properly heralded abroad and, alas, not 
 followed as it might and should have been, because of changing adminis- 
 trations and political interferences. Any discussion I could make of 
 that plan, or of the Baltimore report above referred to, or of the pro- 
 posed changes for Riverside Drive’ extension in New York, clear out- 
 side of my bailiwick, would lead into a field of technique in which I 
 
 1 Frederick Law Olmsted, collaborating Landscape Architect; also for the Denver Civic Center Plan. 
 
five rap ie Gr leet Ye we bole eee Nei R. 29 
 
 am competent only as I have enthusiasm for the work proposed, with- 
 out any claim for other ability to judge it than merely to set it up 
 against what seem to be human needs and means for their satisfaction. 
 It was these human needs that stirred Mr. Brunner to great words and 
 to great thoughts, as witness another quotation from the Boston 
 address of 1915: ) 
 
 “It seems to me that in our daily lives we have underestimated the 
 influence that our backgrounds, our scenery, exert on us. I know a 
 church that suggests a music hall. I know a theatre so sombre and 
 gloomy that our spirits are depressed when we enter it. I know a 
 museum of fine arts where it is almost impossible to concentrate one’s 
 attention on the paintings and sculpture. These buildings, pretty enough 
 to look at, violate the first rule of the game. They do not express their 
 purpose, but on the contrary nullify and contradict it. 
 
 “Some years ago | had occasion to visit a court-room in New York. 
 Men kept on their hats, whistled and laughed. Large brass spittoons 
 were numerous, but though necessary, were copiously disregarded. A 
 noisy lady who sold apples was garrulous and apparently very popular. 
 The general atmosphere was most disorderly and the attendants had 
 difficulty in securing silence at the entrance of the judge. 
 
 “A few years later I visited the same court-room and was astonished 
 to find all this changed. Men removed their hats when they entered, 
 and talked in low tones. The apple lady remained in the corridor and 
 an air of dignity and decency prevailed. 
 
 “The reason for this gratifying change was that the eastern wall 
 had been covered by a mural painting of great beauty —Simmons’ figure 
 of Justice in the center, flanked by well-painted groups on each side, 
 three prisoners on the right and the three Fates on the left, dominated 
 the room. The influence of this powerful composition had made the 
 previous disgraceful conditions impossible. The picture made its appeal 
 and the appeal was instantly answered. 
 
 “Whoever has seen Blashfield’s mural painting in the United States 
 Court-room in the Cleveland Federal Building must recall its effect on 
 
30 AOR N' OhaD? AW. abe aN CNer aR, 
 
 the public. Its beauty and strength, the two splendid angels pointing 
 to the Ten Commandments, the majesty of the law and the tragedy of 
 crime— here too make a background that speaks; that fulfils its purpose. 
 
 “We can build a study in which no man can study, a library in 
 which nobody can read, or we can design rooms for such purposes, 
 restful in treatment, simple in form, quiet in tone, that will not irritate 
 and distract, but on the contrary soothe the inmates and make concen- 
 tration easier. Such rooms exist.” 
 
 Of course Mr. Brunner was a courteous gentleman, and as a mem- 
 ber of the Executive Board of the American Civic Association I found 
 him, for the long years of my endeavor as its president, keenly interested 
 and broadly helpful. He was enjoyable, too, because of his picturesque 
 quality of expression, particularly when addressing himself to the bill- 
 board nightmare above referred to, which both daily and nightly makes 
 great Manhattan a hurly-burly of lights and letters, of pills and pickles, 
 of cigars and coffees. Nobody was more disturbed than Mr. Brunner, 
 especially as he saw the new skyline of New York growing in novel 
 beauty, at those selfish advertising monstrosities which, even now, 
 may not have reached their climax of civic jazzing. As I have before 
 written, he could say things about billboards which if he had been 
 close enough were sufficiently hot to have burned them down! One 
 of these remarks I have treasured: 
 
 “Individualism is admirable, but it may generate into license. Even 
 in a free country, a democracy, there is a limit to the rights of the 
 individual, and that limit is reached when they run counter to the 
 rights of the community.” ; 
 
 But there was a quality about Mr. Brunner, peculiar, rare, admir- 
 able, valuable, not possessed by many men. Believing in a subject, he 
 had that curious indefinable faculty which is sometimes called personal 
 magnetism that would cause others to believe in him. He could meet 
 men who came to him hostile to any idea he might have, and could 
 win them to his way of thinking not only by the straightforward 
 showing of merit but by his genial, persuasive eloquence. I have seen 
 
erie reeein Yerorele A Ne No RR 31 
 
 him in action repeatedly, and with a long experience in seeing good 
 things go wrong for the lack of just that quality, could admire the way 
 in which Mr. Brunner handled one governor after another of the State 
 of Pennsylvania to bring through a great dream which, if it may be 
 carried out, as now seems likely, will add to his enduring fame. He 
 was the tactful, genial, resourceful advocate who, not abating one iota 
 either of dignity or of principle, could by sheer force of his personality 
 win past obstacles that had been insurmountable to others. 
 
 It was this quality of his character applied to his citizenship which 
 made him possess the nth power of ability in his work as architect in 
 connection with the Pennsylvania Capitol improvements and exten- 
 sions. He did not always get all he wanted, but he always made an 
 impression, always kept his temper, and always scored an advance, even 
 if not the advance to which he was entitled. 
 
 Arnold W. Brunner was a great man as a friend as well as an archi- 
 tect, a city-planner, an advocate, and a citizen, and I am the better, 
 much the better, for years of association with him on a plane wholly 
 outside his business, where I was, in a sense, a sort of imitation John 
 the Baptist for the things for which he stood. 
 
 J. Horace McFartanp 
 
THE COLLABORATOR 
 
 J 
 Y MEMORIES of Arnold Brunner began long ago when he 
 
 was a very young student in Paris, and in the great army of 
 
 men whom I met there and later in New York, I recall scarcely 
 one who so retained his appearance of youth. I am sure that to the end 
 of his life none, save those who really knew, would have dreamed how 
 greatly the number of his years exceeded that appearance. 
 
 Perhaps the natural sweetness of his disposition kept him youthful. 
 I have more than once seen him overworked, harassed even, by the 
 problems which were poured in upon him, have seen when it was 
 proper for him to be angry and he came right up to the mark that one 
 liked to see reached, but I never saw him peevish. Busy as he was— 
 hurrying from an interview in his office to his seat in a Pullman car, 
 and then off on the road towards some city which he was pulling to 
 pieces before new planning should begin to take effect —he seemed to 
 always find time to answer questions or give advice at the last moment 
 and to answer and advise kindly. 
 
 In some way or other, the association of him with Paris, which in 
 my mind began so early, never ceased, and I think of him as happening 
 along the Rue de Rivoli or out of some hotel from the Crillon to the 
 westward as far as Meurice’s to the East, always with Mrs. Brunner, 
 and so often with a prompt invitation to one to lunch or dine and go 
 afterwards en petit comité to some theatre, preferably the Comédie Fran- 
 caise or the Odeon, for both he and Mrs. Brunner loved the drama and 
 were well up in their knowledge of the repertoire —the plays that had 
 lasted and were given occasionally and loyally by that nation which, 
 nominally fickle, is of all countries most faithful to its masterpieces, 
 whether of three years ago or three hundred. I well remember how, 
 as we stood one day on the Place du Palais-Royal and not far from the 
 outdoor passage, shut in by wooden rails that led to the ticket office of 
 
VITRE 
 
 AFTER THE WATER COLOR BY MR. BRUNNER 
 
Ten Ee CO LAB OR ATOR 33 
 
 the cheaper seats for the Comédie Francaise, he said, “Look at them,” 
 pointing at the workingmen and shop¢girls packed in behind the rails 
 and patiently waiting at seven in the evening in the late sunshine of a 
 summer day. “Look at them —those people giving their time and their 
 small savings to an evening with Moliere or Victor Hugo or Alfred de 
 Musset instead of to the movies—isn’t it bully?” He traveled exten- 
 sively in Europe in the interests of the study which was so especially 
 congenial to him, the study of city-planning, and talk with him about 
 it was likely to be interesting and enlightening. 
 
 I had spent part of a summer just before the great war in visiting 
 German cities; the Teuton love of trees and capacity for bringing the 
 forest up against and almost into the smaller towns had compelled my 
 enthusiasm, and induced much talk about Cassel and Leipzig and other 
 places. Brunner praised willingly what was good, but showed me excel- 
 lent reasons for much qualification of my enthusiasm. 
 
 And it was so when, one day, Mrs. Brunner and he and I went 
 up the river past Notre-Dame, to visit, as guests of Colonel Pichon, 
 the proprietor, his famous Hotel de Lauzun, which helps to guard 
 one end of the ancient quarter that surrounds Saint Louis en I’Ile and 
 covers the little island. It was at a moment when there had been 
 much talk about the property possibly passing into American hands 
 and being dedicated in a way to American progress in the arts. I was 
 to be Mr. Brunner’s guide to the hotel, but he became my guide the 
 moment we entered the seventeenth-century courtyard, and in the 
 Louis Fourteenth and Louis Fifteenth rooms of the main floor, he pointed 
 out to me not only what was worth while but what was not, and 
 gave most useful suggestions, both of encouragement and warning, in 
 relation to the difficult problem which might confront us in any pro- 
 posed adaptation of this fine old palace of the Montpensiers to modern 
 needs of either club-house or headquarters for experts and professors 
 of the arts, since there was never any thought of turning it into a 
 painting or drawing-school. ht 
 
 It was quite natural that a man who found a congenial task in the 
 
34 ARNOLD W. BRUNNER 
 
 altering of the silhouette of a whole quarter of a town should be inter- 
 ested in that compositional interrelation which is the very first thing to 
 be studied in the interior decoration of buildings. 
 
 The movement in American mural building began immediately after, 
 and even during the holding of the World’s Columbian Exhibition of 
 Chicago. McKim, Post, and Richard M. Hunt led the way. One 
 remembers with respect, and even reverence, the example of William 
 Hunt in Albany, and of John LaFarge in the Church of the Ascension, 
 and one eagerly watched the placing of Abbey’s and Sargent’s work 
 in the Public Library of Boston. Brunner, though a younger man than 
 any of the “big four” of Chicago, almost immediately interested him- 
 self in the carrying on and developing of the new work. There had 
 already come one of the widest opportunities that had or ever has 
 come to American decorators in the State Capitol of Minnesota in 
 Saint Paul—and Brunner shortly followed with his Federal Building 
 of Cleveland which included the court house and post office, and for 
 which very many painters and sculptors collaborated under the super- 
 intendence of the architect. In the Fifty-seventh Street house of Mr. 
 Adolph Lewisohn, as well as in the much larger house which he 
 occupied later on Fifth Avenue, Brunner introduced much decorative 
 sculpture and painting, and his name was again closely connected with 
 that of Mr. Lewisohn in the building of the stadium immediately 
 adjoining the College of the City of New York. When the fourth 
 centenary of Shakespeare was celebrated, and Mr. Percy MacKaye’s 
 Caliban was being played there, the author took me behind the 
 scenes, up the towers and all over the stadium, and in seeing the hun- 
 dreds of young people who made up the dramatis persone, swarming 
 among the columns when they were not in the arena playing, and 
 always in the light of the torches and great cressets and colored 
 fires, anyone with a sense of dramatic beauty had to feel profoundly 
 grateful to Arnold Brunner for having provided one of the most 
 effective and impressive backgrounds that could be seen anywhere. 
 The columns and great curves to the steps of Brunner’s creation were, 
 
iene COLLAB ORAT © R 45 
 
 perhaps, even more consonant with the colossal dramas of Euripides, 
 Iphigenia, and the Trojan women which followed there a few 
 months later. 
 
 Brunner’s interest in decoration, whether by painting or sculpture, 
 was unflagging, and my very last communication with him was in re- 
 gard to some panels which at his instance were being painted for 
 Columbia University (Barnard College) by a young graduate of the 
 American Academy of Rome. Mr. Francis C. Jones and I went to- 
 gether to inspect the panels at Brunner’s urgent request. On our return 
 with a favorable report, we telephoned at once and learned that he 
 was too ill to be spoken to —it was the beginning of the end. Certainly 
 he died in harness if ever a man did. My feeling is strong that he de- 
 rived real pleasure from his interest in decoration for he gave great 
 pleasure to those who worked with him. 
 
 He was peculiarly sympathetic as a collaborator and as the commander 
 of an enterprise, which the architect naturally becomes in any general 
 decorative scheme, for he had a way at once of keeping in touch with 
 his collaborator and at the same time leaving the latter an almost com- 
 plete freedom of thought and action. He did not say “I feel this, thus 
 and thus” but instead, he asked “How do you feel this?” and if your 
 point were at all well taken he would at once accept it in principle 
 even if he modified it in detail. He enjoyed working out the prob- 
 lem with his executant, and when the panel for the court house in 
 the Federal Building of Cleveland was being painted, much time was 
 given to talks which he and I had together and during which we made 
 careful preliminary reviews of the general color-scheme for the interior 
 of the principal court-room, he meantime showing me good-sized speci- 
 mens of all the marbles to be employed, as well as of the different ton- 
 alities which would be used in the gilding. 
 
 The first work which I did for him was begun not so very long 
 after the Columbian Exhibition of Chicago ended, and from that 
 time onward we served again and again together on committees of the 
 Architectural League, the Federation of Fine Arts of New York, the 
 
36 ARNOLD W. BRUNNER 
 
 National Institute of Arts and Letters, while we frequently ran across 
 each other in summer-time in Europe. 
 
 In this way, and especially during his Cleveland work, I had many 
 opportunities of marveling over the number and variety of the questions 
 brought before an architect and frequently for immediate decision. 
 They impressed me profoundly, and I venture to quote here, from a 
 book by myself on mural painting in America, a couple of pages, touch- 
 ing upon the ubiquity and omniscience demanded from any architect 
 who is creating a great public building. 
 
 “Think of the whole that must be conceived as a whole, the parts 
 that must be subordinated—their infinite and infinitely subtle inter- 
 relations, their sizes, proportion, shapes, colors, surfaces, the nature of 
 their material, the character of their appearance, simple or complicated, 
 austere or rich. What employment is here, what exaction! If we drop 
 a pin into a delicate mechanism, the disturbance may at once be felt 
 by even ponderous wheels which that delicacy has served and governed. 
 Anybody can understand this because anybody can understand the 
 disturbance that results. In a great building, a small artistic mistake 
 may also be farreaching in its disturbance of general harmony, but this 
 
 time it is not by any means everyone who can realize it at first, because — 
 
 it is not so patent and only such eyes note it as are prompted either by 
 feeling or informed by training. But the small mistake, if unnoted, can go 
 on with its mischief until a big dissonance results, and you have a regular 
 ‘house that Jack built’ of successive mischances, all started by one little 
 disagreement when ‘the dog began to worry the cat’ with bad forms 
 upon good proportions or something of the sort. 
 
 “All this the architect must foresee, or rectify, or suffer for. There- 
 fore he must be armed at every point; he must bea gladiator and fight 
 the opinion of big and little where it is hurtful, and he must have a 
 moral consciousness that can soar like an aéroplane above consideration 
 of gain. He must, for example, reject in favor of cheaper material the 
 costlier marble which would swell his commission but might hurt his 
 artistic effect. He must be modern and meet the modern problem, and 
 
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 in so doing must turn his back resolutely upon some of the effects 
 which he has most loved and studied in the past, effects upon which 
 he has been brought up to the comfort of his eyes and mind. He may 
 not consider first of all the proportions which he would like to have. 
 He may not spread out his plan, for he is building on ground more pre- 
 cious than gold, and he must squeeze his house and press it together, 
 and shoot it straight up into the air. Two feet of recess may cost thou- 
 sands; two feet of projection may entail a lawsuit and condemnation. 
 He may not treat his facade with beautiful constructive ornaments, but 
 instead must make it a kind of colander for the sifting of light into 
 every cranny of a thousand office rooms, and in considering these same 
 rooms he must unite something of the knowledge of a fireman, a pur- 
 veyor of fresh air, and even of a sanitary inspector . . . . Historians 
 of art have celebrated the many-sidedness of Renaissance architects who 
 could build domes and paint miniatures, play the lute and write sonnets, 
 carve intagli and colossi, but even of them we believe were hardly ex- 
 acted more kinds of knowledge than are exacted of the modern architect. 
 
 “Are you a man or a meeracle?’ says the sergeant to Kipling’s 
 Mulvaney in My Lord the Elephant. ‘Betwixt and betune,’ replied 
 Mulvaney. And so to me the architect has seemed betwixt and between 
 a man and a miracle in his capacity for round knowledge.” 
 
 Brunner was very generous in giving his personal time both in ad- 
 vising and making sketches. The often-recurring Building Projects of 
 the National Academy of Design, which brought about periods of men- 
 tal and physical travail for all of us who were upon the various com- 
 mittees, never found him indifferent, and he helped us with important 
 and elaborate drawings more than once. As an officer, too, whether 
 as president of the Fine Arts Federation of New York, or as treasurer 
 of the National Institute of Arts and Letters, his qualities were of high 
 value to those societies, for he added to the faithfulness of his atten- 
 dance an invariably patient kindliness in listening to long discussions, 
 and he showed a quick sympathy with the other man’s point of view. 
 In my own relations with him, which covered many years, it seemed 
 
38 ACR EN, OO EAD SAW: eB oR ON INSE 
 
 to me that a certain delicacy was always notable in him, as if he had 
 his eyes first, of course, upon the work and its proper conduct, then, 
 secondly, upon my interests rather than upon his own. In fact, to em- 
 ploy that most useful Italian expression, he was eminently simpatico. I 
 have heard from young people who went to him with their troubles 
 that he would take up the problem for them in the most generous 
 spirit and, laying hold of the first sheet of paper at hand, he would 
 rapidly make sketch after sketch, saying, “You try that” or “How’s 
 this; is this in the direction of your thought? If so, why not make this?” 
 or that, or the other modification, until he had unraveled the worst 
 tangles for them and sent them away encouraged. In fact, he was the 
 sort of man whose enthusiasm for his work, backed by his considera- 
 tion, his promptness, his energy, and the bonhommie which permeated 
 every one of these qualities, made him one to be relied upon and wel- 
 comed indeed by those to whom he so generously gave his friendship. 
 In many art societies, architects, sculptors, painters, and members of the 
 Century and Players’ Clubs will remember long and affectionately their 
 
 comrade, Arnold Brunner. 
 Epwin H. BLAsHFIELD 
 
 iB 
 } { Y ACQUAINTANCE with Arnold Brunner was coincident 
 
 with my coming to New York to live. It was in the spring 
 
 of 1888 that I bought a house— 125 West Eleventh Street — 
 which I proposed to convert into a studio for myself, with other studios 
 for possible artist tenants. Naturally I needed professional advice, and 
 found it in the office of Brunner & Tryon, a firm of young architects 
 who had recently opened an office on Union Square. Thus began an ac- 
 quaintance ripening into friendship and continuing until recently, broken 
 first by the death of Thomas Tryon and, last spring, by the passing of 
 Mr. Brunner. I may recall that I put the patience and amiability of my 
 
Peileteee Os TAB OO RA TeOtR 39 
 
 architects to a test after plans had been made for converting my house 
 into studios, by suddenly breaking it to them that I had concluded to 
 take unto myself a wife, and that the plans would have to be radically 
 changed to meet the new conditions, as a residence as well as my studio. 
 That our relations were not strained by this change of front is in itself 
 a tribute to the architects. The partnership of Brunner & Tryon was 
 dissolved after a few years, but an acquaintance so happily begun with 
 Arnold Brunner developed in succeeding years into an unbroken and 
 valued friendship. 
 
 Of Mr. Brunner’s ability and accomplishments in his profession, 
 others will speak with greater authority than I could, and give him the 
 high place to which he is entitled, but I may properly speak of his 
 happy attitude toward collaboration and of his recognition of sculpture 
 as a decorative essential of his buildings. On the exterior of the post 
 office building in Cleveland and on the Cuyohoga court house, he 
 made sculpture a prominent feature, and enlisted the services of a num- 
 ber of sculptors in making the groups and single figures, applied with 
 a realizing sense of the value of sculpture to architecture. My own 
 association with the architect in this work I recall with pride and 
 pleasure. He was an ideal patron, uniting with a knowledge of the 
 character of the sculpture he desired and the architectural requirements, 
 a recognition of the fact that, within certain limits, it is better to let 
 the sculptor work out his own solution of the problem rather than 
 to hamper him by imposing embarrassing restrictions. This does not 
 mean that he failed to keep control of the whole scheme and to put 
 the impress of his own ideas upon the work, but that he also was most 
 considerate of the sculptor’s point of view and did not worry him with 
 immaterial details, a course which has been the cause of more failures 
 in sculpture than anything else. 
 
 Mr. Brunner will be remembered by his high achievements in archi- 
 tecture; by his extraordinary public spirit which led him to give un- 
 sparingly of his time, strength, and talents to matters of art and utility 
 in city, state, and country; by his prominence in occupying positions 
 
40 ARNOLD W. BRUNNER 
 
 of honor and usefulness, as president or chairman in art societies and 
 committees entrusted with important art developments; by his exhaus- 
 tive knowledge of city-planning and the practical application of this 
 knowledge, notably illustrated in Cleveland; by his fairness, good judg- 
 ment, and wisdom which made him sought far and wide as arbiter in 
 important public affairs; by his gift of oral expression which enabled 
 him to give his views and opinions clearly and forcibly, always with 
 conviction but with due deference to the opinions of others; finally, 
 and perhaps more than by aught else, he will be remembered by the 
 personality and the traits that so endeared him to the wide circle of 
 his acquaintances and the closer circle of those who felt that they knew 
 him intimately. 
 
 Rare social qualities as evident as daylight were his, and they made 
 him universally welcome. To these qualities add those of cheer and 
 humor, of quickness of perception, buoyancy, and interest in his fellow- 
 man; add also a felicitous talent for conversation, a knowledge of the 
 world, and a keen interest in it—add all these and even more, for such 
 is the abiding memory of the man. 
 
 It is a common remark that the world goes on just the same how- 
 ever prominent the man may be who leaves it, but this is far from the 
 truth, and in the case of a man like Brunner is obviously false. The 
 combination of talents and acquirements that made him so valuable and 
 so useful a member of the community was unique, and no one can fill 
 his exact place or perform as he did the services to which his life was 
 dedicated. We have to content ourselves with the knowledge that 
 what he accomplished has greatly benefited the world, and that his 
 character and his works will continue to be a power for good for all time. 
 
 DanieL C. FRENCH 
 
Hee COLELAB ORATOR 41 
 
 III 
 fe ces CLARK said of Thomas Jefferson, “His mind was both 
 
 telescopic and microscopic in its range and operation.” Those 
 
 who worked with Arnold Brunner in his various fields of en- 
 deavor must have felt that he, too, gave evidence of having that type 
 of mind. 
 
 Brunner was an enthusiast in all things, great or small. His interest 
 was without limitations. He knew the “feel” of a medal or coin and 
 enjoyed the surface of a canvas or a marble. In his attitude toward 
 the creations of his fellow artists, he always found the good in their 
 work and the time to make mention of it to others. 
 
 A proposition put to Brunner was met by the full measure of his 
 critical power — examining it from every conceivable angle and testing 
 each and every part. He would render his opinions in such a genial 
 manner that, though his criticism were destructive, he never gave 
 offense in presenting it. 
 
 He was keen to benefit from the suggestions of others and would 
 ply one with such questions as, “Do you feel that if as and so were 
 done, the results would be better?”; or perhaps, “If instead of doing 
 thus and so—we did this or that?” He was always anxious to draw 
 helpful suggestions from any source. His innate sense of the fitness of 
 things was developed to a marked degree, making him a sound and sane 
 critic, possessing a constructive rather than destructive tendency. 
 For this reason he rendered valuable service on a number of important 
 commissions engaged in planning the architectonic future of several 
 cities, including our National Capital. | 
 
 He valued the importance of concerted effort toward holding the 
 individuals of the different artistic professions together, and took an 
 active part as leader and councilman in a dozen such organizations. 
 His clearness of thought, the correctness of his judgment, and the 
 incisiveness of his opinions, coupled with an unusual executive and 
 administrative ability, made him a splendid officer. 
 
42 ARNOLD W. BRUNNER 
 
 Brunner was a versatile conversationalist. His interests in life were 
 so many-sided that he could take an active part in any discussion and 
 invariably make a valued contribution, adding always a delightful 
 humorous note, by a timely anecdote or story. 
 
 He preferred to talk on matters pertaining to art, yet never forced 
 this, his favorite topic, but would express his views on most any sub- 
 ject with the same interest and ability. 
 
 As an architect, his works throughout our country speak for him. 
 
 In making this inventory of the factors in the character of Arnold 
 Brunner that lifted him above his fellow workers, I cannot help feeling 
 that, knowing him as well as I did, my memory of him as a friend has 
 prevented me from giving an adequate outline of his make-up. I might 
 have said that, in the passing of Brunner, we lost a great architect — 
 
 a true friend—a genuine man. 
 Rosert I. AIrKen 
 
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FELLOW MEMBER 
 
 N ONE of the essays which Cowper contributed to The Connois- 
 seur a century and a half ago he recorded his opinion that “the 
 rational intercourse kept up by conversation is one of our principal 
 
 distinctions from brutes”; and this opinion is as valid early in the twen- 
 tieth century as it was late in the eighteenth. A main reason why we 
 join clubs is that we may thereby profit by the rational intercourse of 
 conversation and thus emphasize our distinction from the brutes. But 
 we are usually cautious in our selection of our associates in these circles; 
 and we are likely to be attracted to the organization wherein we may 
 expect to have the inestimable privilege of foregathering with those 
 “who speak our own language’”—to borrow an apt phrase. We seek 
 out congenial spirits having kindred tastes, however much they may 
 differ from us in their opinions. 
 
 In three different groups of men more or less like-minded I had the 
 pleasure of meeting Arnold Brunner and of remarking his possession 
 of the indefinable quality which has been called “clubbability.” These 
 three organizations are The Players, the Century Association and the 
 National Institute of Arts and Letters, in each of which Brunner made 
 himself immediately welcome and long held an honored place. In fact, 
 he was so highly esteemed that he was elected to office, at one time or 
 another, in all three of them. It is always a compliment when a mem- 
 ber is asked to accept a position of responsibility; and if he is so chosen 
 by the suffrages of his fellow members year after year, the election is 
 not an empty compliment, it is a testimonial to his successful service, 
 to his competence for this labor of love, often as onerous as it is always 
 unremunerated. This recognition of his qualification for office came to 
 Arnold Brunner repeatedly, and always without his seeking it. 
 
 I doubt not that other contributors to this memorial will record 
 amply and adequately Arnold Brunner’s services to the city of New 
 York — first as a member of the Board of Education and then as a mem- 
 ber of the Art Commission. He served also as a member of the Na- 
 
44 ARNOLD W. BRUNNER 
 
 tional Commission of Fine Arts. He was a vice-president of the Ameri- 
 can Civic Association and of the National Sculpture Society. He was 
 president of the Architectural League, of the New York Chapter of the 
 American Institute of Architects, and of the Fine Arts Federation of 
 New York. He was elected an associate of the National Academy of 
 Design in 1910, and he became a member in 1916. He was chosen to the 
 National Institute of Arts and Letters in 1913. These honors may have 
 come to him mainly in recognition of his own artistic accomplishment; 
 but they are, some of them at least, also testimonials to his administra- 
 tive ability, to his willingness to give himself freely for the benefit of 
 his fellows. Even more obviously, however, do many of these promo- 
 tions testify to his ample possession of the social gift, to his urbanity, 
 to his tact, to his facility in getting on with his fellowmen, and to his 
 energy in getting things done. His aid could always be counted on in 
 any effort to advance the standards of civilization and to make life 
 richer and finer and better worth living. 
 
 I dwell on his possession of the social gift because it was one of 
 the most outstanding traits of his character. He had a shrewd compre- 
 hension of human nature. I noted this when I first met him at The 
 Players, more than a score of years ago. When he came into the grill- 
 room he was always heartily greeted and a place would be made for 
 him, even if the table happened to be already crowded. The Players 
 was founded by Edwin Booth especially as a home for actors, dramatists, 
 and managers, but its founder had wisely arranged that the stage-folk 
 should be amply companioned by the practitioners of all the allied arts, 
 by painters and sculptors, by architects and musicians. The wisdom of 
 Edwin Booth in thus mingling artists of all sorts was justified from the 
 very beginning. The Players constituted a happy family into which 
 Arnold Brunner was instantly adopted. 
 
 ? Equally cordial was his reception by the Century Association, to 
 
 which he was elected in 1903. Between The Players and the Century 
 there are as many points of similarity as there are of dissimilarity. In 
 fact, the most obvious difference is that the average age of a Centurion 
 
STUDY FOR PROPOSED MUSIC AND ART CENTER—NEW YORK CITY 
 
 FACING CENTRAL PARK—FIFTY-NINTH STREET 
 
Pee COW MEMBER 45 
 
 is probably ten or fifteen years more than the average age of a Player. 
 The Players, which had been established for the benefit of the actors, 
 had greatly gained by its inclusion of authors and artists; and the Cen- 
 tury, which was founded by artists and lovers of art, had achieved a 
 like catholicity of membership. And in both clubs the art most insis- 
 tently cultivated was the art of conversation. So it was that Arnold 
 Brunner as speedily made a place for himself in the older institution as 
 he had in the younger. In both he could not but feel that he was in 
 his element. He wasa good talker —and an even better listener; and the 
 art of listening is as precious as the art of conversation, and even rarer. 
 
 In the commemorating paragraphs of the annual report of the Sec- 
 retary of the Century, Mr. Alexander Dana Noyes, we are told that 
 Arnold Brunner was not often absent from the long luncheon-table 
 where “his ready conversation, apt rejoinder, and quickly kindled humor 
 always gave stimulus to the exchange of views. He was perfectly willing 
 to talk shop, if the conversation moved in that direction, and he talked 
 it so extremely well that he rarely failed to give to his interlocutors 
 new viewpoints on art and architecture. That is the part of his con- 
 versation which the rest of us will undoubtedly remember, although 
 Brunner never forced his favorite topic and although he interested him- 
 self at once when the discussion turned to other aspects of life and 
 professional achievement . . . . To the last, contempt for the com- 
 monplace and banal was his underlying principle. When pressed, as he 
 sometimes was, to reproduce architectural effects of a period whose 
 appeal was made chiefly to primitive architectural taste, Brunner was 
 always fond of citing the dictum of another old-time Centurion, to the 
 effect that American architecture of that type embodied ‘the art of 
 covering one thing with another thing to imitate a third thing, which, 
 if genuine, would be highly undesirable’.” 
 
 Both in The Players and in the Century, Arnold Brunner was hon- 
 ored by election to office. In the Century he was a member of the 
 arduous Committee on Admissions. In The Players he sat on the Board 
 of Directors and served for three years as the treasurer. 
 
46 ASREN? OCD DoW 2B ae NaN Shak 
 
 I was associated with Arnold Brunner also in the National Institute 
 of Arts and Letters, and here again he proved himself to be most efhi- 
 cient — so efhcient indeed that his fellow members violated an established 
 tradition and insisted on his retaining office long after the normal 
 period of its occupancy had expired. The constitution of the National 
 Institute of Arts and Letters calls for the annual election of all officers 
 —a president, six vice-presidents (representing the three departments 
 of literature, art, and music), a secretary, and a treasurer —these nine 
 officials constituting the Council which has to guide for twelve months 
 the destinies of the organization. To avoid the obvious disadvantages 
 of a too rapid rotation in office, the custom has grown up of reelecting 
 all these officers for a second annual term, but in order that a large 
 number of the members shall have the opportunity of familiarizing 
 themselves with the problems of administration, it is only upon rare 
 occasions and for special reasons that the incumbent of any office is 
 granted a third term. 
 
 The one unprecedented exception to this excellent custom was to 
 be observed when Arnold Brunner was elected treasurer year after 
 year, until he was serving his eleventh term when he died in office. 
 This renewed compliment was evidence of the efficiency with which 
 he administered the financial affairs of the Institute. When we had an 
 official of proved capacity in a post which demanded special competence, 
 we saw no reason for making a change. Possibly this deviation from 
 our tradition was due in some measure to the delight with which the 
 two or three score of us who dined together at the annual meeting 
 listened to Brunner’s report on the state of our finances. He never 
 wearied us with a string of figures, always difficult to apprehend if we 
 have only our ears to convey them to us. When the order of business 
 called for the report of the treasurer, we awaited it without apprehen- 
 sion and we received it with acclamation. Arnold Brunner’s succinct 
 
 statement was clear, brief and yet complete: “We have taken in so 
 
 many dollars; we have spent out so many dollars. The annual balance is 
 therefore so many dollars; and our total funds are now so many dollars.” 
 
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Pee OL WM Re MoBeE-R 47 
 
 Far more competent pens than mine have chronicled the achieve- 
 ments of Arnold Brunner as an architect, as the associate of sculptors 
 and painters, as an exponent of city-planning, and as a potent factor 
 in the artistic advance of this country. He was a good citizen, and a 
 helpful friend to all good causes. When his interest was once aroused, 
 his response was immediate and unwearying. Yet he was never aggres- 
 sive in his advocacy. As he was constantly making friends for himself, 
 so he was ever winning friends for the plans he was urging. He was an 
 untiring cooperator and a loyal fellow-worker. And, moreover, he was 
 possessed of a winning personality — which is to say he was a man as 
 
 attractive as he was unassuming. 
 BRANDER MATTHEWS 
 
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