Another Saint, a Riot and Mark 7:15

Posted on February 10, 2021 by Brian H. Gill

Yesterday’s headlines oozed acrimony, animosity and anger. So do today’s.

It could be worse. I could have been reading about a replay of Oxford’s St. Scholastica Day riot. I’ll get back to that.

February 10th is the Memorial of Saint Scholastica.

It’s also when Mark 7:14–23 is the Gospel reading. The gist of which is at the start —

“He summoned the crowd again and said to them, ‘Hear me, all of you, and understand.
“Nothing that enters one from outside can defile that person; but the things that come out from within are what defile.'”
(Mark 7:14–15)

As usual, our Lord’s disciples waited until later to ask about the parable. And I suggest reading Mark 7:18 as an example of patience with cluelessness.

Which reminds me. I’m planning on using the daily readings as a starting point for these daily journal entries. At least for a while. That being the case, I’d better do a quick review.

Sacred Scripture, Tradition and Making Sense

Gutenberg Bible, Lenox Copy, New York Public Library. (2009)Reading and studying the Bible is part of being Catholic. Or should be. But this isn’t one of those roll-your-own-theology ‘Bible and me’ faiths. I can and should learn from the Bible, the Magisterium and Tradition. (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 74–95, 101–133)

Our Tradition — capital “T” — is the Apostolic Tradition, passed along from the Apostles. The Magisterium is the Church’s teaching authority, also passed along through the millennia.

As a Catholic, I must respect and follow our Tradition. Which isn’t even close to trying to live as if it’s still 1947, and that’s another topic.

Back to today’s gospel.

Jesus explained that externals, like eating non-kosher food, don’t “defile” us.

It’s what we can generate inside that’s a problem. As examples, our Lord listed things that defile a person:

  • Evil thoughts
  • Unchastity
  • Theft
  • Murder
  • Adultery
  • Greed
  • Malice
  • Deceit
  • Licentiousness
  • Envy
  • Blasphemy
  • Arrogance
  • Folly

I could take that list, note that arson isn’t included, and that kind of trouble I don’t need.

Saint Scholastica Day, Oxford, 1354

George Floyd riots collage. (2020)What we know about Saint Scholastica comes mainly from Pope Gregory I/Gregory the Great’s “Dialogues.”

Apparently Gregory the Great said that Saint Scholastica shows how love outvotes law.

Which, at least one academic said, proves that Saint Scholastica is a fictional character, imagined by Gregory.

I don’t think so. But I also think that Shakespeare wrote Shakespeare. And that George Washington is a real person. Even though Mason Locke Weems wrote whoppers about him.

Anyway: Scholastica lived and died in central Italy and was instrumental in organizing Benedictine nuns. She died on this day in 543.

Fast-forward 821 years, to Oxford, England; the Swindlestock Tavern.

Two Oxford students didn’t like their wine. They argued with the taverner. A brawl ensued.

Three days later, upwards of 90 people had been killed; about a third of them townsfolk.

King Edward III sent a legal team to Oxford. Assorted litigation followed, fines were imposed and the town’s mayor and bailiffs sent to London’s Marshalsea prison. Which wasn’t a bad place for folks with money. And that’s yet another topic.

It wasn’t Oxford’s first town-and-gown brawl and wasn’t the last.

Poets and historians issued sporadic retellings of the St. Scholastica Day affair. The Bishop of Lincoln imposed an annual penance on Oxford. That lasted until 1825.

And, finally, in 1955 — six centuries after the three-day incident — Oxford’s mayor and vice-chancellor gave each other honorary titles;1 which may have buried the hatchet. And not, as one might have expected, in either’s back.

Remembering Love

Thomas Cole's 'The Voyage of Life - Youth,' detail. (1840)Getting back to today’s Gospel, I figure that the St. Scholastica Day riot wasn’t caused by wine, taverns, Oxford University, or St. Scholastica.

All of the above were involved, more or less.

But blaming externals misses an important point. Things, and other people, don’t make me act badly.

I’m affected by the world and other people, “…but the things that come out from within are what defile….”

Trouble happens when I don’t love God and my neighbor, and see everyone as my neighbor. (Matthew 5:43–44, 22:36–40; Mark 12:28–31; Luke 6:31 10:25–27, 29–37; Catechism, 1789)

And, what’s harder, act like I believe it:

1 asdfasdf:

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A Saint, Genesis, Animals, Me and Being Human

Posted on February 9, 2021 by Brian H. Gill

Today’s Tuesday of the Fifth Week in Ordinary Time.

It’s also Saint Apollonia’s feast day.

She’s one of several folks killed in 249, during an Alexandrian effort to stamp out Christian influences. Emperor Decius put imperial clout behind such efforts, and that’s another topic.

St. Apollonia isn’t on my diocesan or national liturgical calendar. Not that I’ve seen, at any rate.

That’s not, or shouldn’t be, a big surprise. The Catholic Church is literally catholic, καθολικός, katholikos, universal. Some things we do, like reading the Bible, are universal. Some aspects of our worship are regional or local.1 (September 30, 2018)

I figure devotion to St. Apollonia hasn’t been part of my place and time’s life. Which is okay.

Today’s reading — right! That’s what got me started.

The first reading is Genesis 1:20–2:4a. Let’s see what’s there.

It starts with living creatures, and birds flying under the “dome of the sky.” And no, I do not see a conflict between Sumerian poetry, being Catholic and NASA.

Moving on.

“God created the great sea monsters and all kinds of crawling living creatures with which the water teems, and all kinds of winged birds. God saw that it was good,
“and God blessed them, saying: Be fertile, multiply, and fill the water of the seas; and let the birds multiply on the earth.”
(Genesis 1:21–22)

Okay. That’s familiar enough. God created critters and wants them to “multiply on the earth.”

(Optionally) Rational Animals

Skipping ahead:

“God created mankind in his image;
in the image of God he created them;
male and female he created them.
“God blessed them and God said to them: Be fertile and multiply; fill the earth and subdue it. Have dominion over the fish of the sea, the birds of the air, and all the living things that crawl on the earth.”
(Genesis1:27–28)

I’ve talked about God, Genesis and getting a grip fairly often.

But maybe a recap won’t hurt.

I noticed that God told assorted critters and humanity to “be fertile and multiply.”

If it was just ‘me and the Bible,’ I might question that my perception that God didn’t make a horrible mistake by creating the visible world.

After all, I grew up in an era just simply drenched in Satanic science and socialist influences. According to rabid radio preachers, and that’s yet another topic. Topics.

But I became a Catholic, so I’m obliged to think that God doesn’t make junk.

And that humans are rational animals. We’ve also got free will. (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1730, 1951)

I figure that using my brain, thinking, takes more effort than following whatever impulse pops into my head. But I also figure that thinking before I act is a good idea.

I’ve talked about this before. Often.

Wait! — Animals?!

I’m human, so thinking is an option. I can decide what I do. So can angels, but I’m not an angel and never will be. I’m a spiritual being with a body made from the stuff of this world. (Catechism, 311, 325–348, 1704, 1730–1731)

I don’t have a problem with that.

Even if I did, it wouldn’t matter. And that’s yet again another topic.

Okay. Humanity is made in the image of God — something obviously went wrong. But the problem isn’t having bodies. God makes us, and this universe, and God doesn’t make junk. (Genesis 1:31; Catechism, 31, 299, 355)

The problem is consequences of a really bad decision. We call it “original sin.”

The Catholic view of original sin is that we’re still made “in the divine image.” We started out in harmony with ourselves, with the world, and with God: but that harmony is broken. (Genesis 1:27, Genesis 3:5–3:13)

Human nature has been wounded: but not corrupted. (Catechism, 31, 299, 355–361, 374–379, 398, 400–406, 405, 1701–1707, 1949)

I’ve talked about that before. Rather often:

1 Worship, Calendars, Saints and history:

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Couney’s Baby Incubators vs. the Progressive Era

Posted on February 8, 2021 by Brian H. Gill


(Babies under glass at the Alaska-Yukon-Pacific-Exposition, Seattle, Washington. (1909))

Martin A. Couney was not your typical Progressive Era American doctor.

For one thing, Couney may not have been an officially-approved doctor.

He said that he’d studied under Dr Pierre-Constant Budin. Maybe he had. But if so, he’d have been very young when he did.

Couney revised his origin story rather often. That, changing his name at least once, and at-best-sparse documentation makes sorting out his history challenging.

Here’s what we know and can reasonably guess about his story.

Martin A. Couney was born in Poland, and named Michael Cohen.

Ideally, his name wouldn’t have been a problem.

But — I keep saying this — we don’t live in an ideal world.

Efficiency, Eugenics, and Me

A Jew with an obviously-Jewish name might know enough of European and Euro-American culture and history to desire a more conventionally gentile moniker.

Another point against Couney — by his era’s standards — was his attitude toward premature infants.

He thought keeping them alive made sense. This was in direct conflict with late Progressive Era eugenic ideals.

I think American Better Baby Contests and other efforts to standardize Americans and American life were well-intentioned. I also think that there’s more to life than efficiency.

'Lebensunwertes Leben,' Eugenics poster.And, being Lebensunwertes Leben, I’m none too keen on efforts to prevent people like me.

Which doesn’t mean that efficiency is a basically bad idea, or that curing disease and dealing with disabilities is wrong.

Then there was Christine Frederick’s quest to promote American prosperity by encouraging standardized kitchens and shoddy consumer goods.1 “Planned obsolescence” sounds so much nicer.

Designing kitchens that work makes sense to me.

So does standardization: as a general principle. In practice — I married a woman who is five-foot-nothing. I don’t think she married me because I can (usually) reach standardized kitchen cabinets, and that’s another topic.

Not Doing Today What Can be Done Tomorrow

Eugenics law historical marker, Indiana.All that, or most of it, is worth more research and writing than I’m giving myself time for.

Maybe I’ll get back to Couney’s groundbreaking notion of using egg incubator tech to keep babies from dying.

And why I don’t entirely agree with Frederick’s idea that the good old-fashioned ‘buy, break, buy and break again’ philosophy.

But if I do, I’ll be doing it during another day.

A tip of the hat, by the way, to number-one daughter — when online, she mostly uses the name Brigid — for showing me this ‘sideshow baby incubator’ video:

And, finally, the usual list of related(?) stuff:

1 A little history:

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Pentheus, Pwyll and Pan Twardowski: Fairly Faustian

Posted on February 8, 2021 by Brian H. Gill


(Marguerite’s garden in Gounod’s “Faust,” set design by Édouard Desplechin. (1859))

Christopher Marlowe based his “Dr. Faustus” on Germany’s Faust legend, which was in turn inspired by Johann Georg Faust’s reputation.

And on J. G. Faust’s abrupt death in 1520, give or take a few decades.

Someone or something wrung Faust’s neck. Or he didn’t survive an alchemical laboratory explosion. Stories agree that he died abruptly, but vary on details.

J. G. Faust had been a Renaissance con man of sorts, presenting himself as an alchemist, astrologer and magician. His reputation grew after his unpleasant death, inspiring a slew of chapbooks, plays, operas, ballets and video games.

Gounod’s “Faust” was an early Faustian opera, and I’m wandering off-topic.1

Or maybe not so much.

Faust’s Literary (?) Debut

Spies, a printer in Frankfurt, published “Historia von D. Johann Fausten…” in 1587.

Its Brobdingnagian title, translated into English, runs to 70 words and tells the whole ‘Faust’ story.

We don’t write stuff quite like that any more, which may explain why academics haven’t agreed on whether the chapbook is literature, trash or something else.

As far as we know, “Historia von” and so forth put “Johann Fausten” on the literary map. It’s a tale of “…the renowned sorcerer and black magician…” who sold his soul to the devil. And therefore is “…a sincere warning to all the arrogant, curious and ungodly.”2

“Black magician?”

Maybe that needs explaining.

Bear in mind that “Historia” etc. was written in 16th century German.

J. G. Faust, the Renaissance con man whose life inspired the Faust legend, was almost certainly German. Or northwestern European, at any rate.

Back in Germany, in 1587, calling someone a [redacted] magician didn’t have the meaning my culture’s self-appointed guardians might assume.

Let’s see if I can fix this affront to contemporary mores.

A more politically-correct translation might be “misunderstood magician,” or maybe even “fascist” or “oppressed” magician, depending on whether Faust is in or out of favor at the moment.

AKA Faust?

From the 'Faust' collection, central library, German Classic, National Research and Memorial Sites, Weimar.
(From Jürgen Ludwig, via Wikimedia Commons, used w/o permission.)
(Would you buy an elixir from this man? J. G. Faust, as imagined in 1726.)

Speaking of names, I’m not convinced that “Faust” was the alleged alchemist, astrologer and magician’s original name.

My Latin’s rusty, at best, but seems to me that “faustus” means “good luck” or “lucky” in Latin. Maybe Herr Faust had a surname ironically suited to his profession and legend.

Or maybe it’s a name he used to make his job easier. “Faust” is also German for “fist,” but never mind that.

Faustian Origins


(From Ken Eckert, via Wikimedia Commons, used w/o permission.)
(The Huntington Library’s “Faustus” manuscript: Ken Eckert’s photo.)

I’ve heard that there are three, 20, 36 and seven basic stories: archetypes expressed in everything from “Hamlet” to “Watership Down.” Or maybe just one.

I’m not sure which or whose story archetype model has academia’s current approval. Or whether any are generally accepted.

A fair number of well-known stories fit Christopher Booker’s seven archetypes:3

  • Overcoming the Monster
    • “Dracula,” Bram Stoker
  • Rags to Riches
    • “David Copperfield,” Charles Dickens
  • The Quest
    • “The Lord Of The Rings,” J. R. R. Tolkien
  • Voyage and Return
    • Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland,” Lewis Carroll
  • Comedy
    • “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” William Shakespeare
  • Tragedy
    • “The Picture of Dorian Gray,” Oscar Wilde
  • Rebirth
    • “A Christmas Carol,” Charles Dickens

Scott Adam's 'Dilbert' strip: Dogbert's Good News Show. ('We'll all die!')Booker’s ‘archetypes’ book came out in 2007. I’m not sure why he left an eighth archetype out: “Everything’s Hopeless and We’ll All Die.”

Maybe fashionable melancholy is going out of vogue. If so, it’s about time. And another topic. (October 22, 2017)

In Booker’s seven-point breakdown, Marlowe’s “Dr. Faustus” would be a tragedy: the story of a hero with a serious glitch.

Anyway, England’s Christopher Marlowe didn’t make up the “Faust” story. It was maybe a century old by the time his “Dr. Faustus” first hit the boards.

‘Pact with a devil’ tales are older. And, maybe, have very deep roots.

Pan Twardowski: Faust Legend Knockoff, or Maybe Inspiration

Michał Elwiro Andriolli's Pan Twardowski and the devil. (1895)I haven’t confirmed it, but I’m guessing that German “Faust” folklore and chapbooks thrived because J. G. Faust was a close match to none-too-discrete folks in even older tales.

I’m also pretty sure that Germans weren’t the only folks with Faustian folktales.

Pan Twardowski, for example, looks like an adaptation of the Faust story.

Pan Twardowski’s basic plot is pretty much the same as the Germanic Faust’s.

P.T. makes a deal with the devil, enjoys fame and fortune, and comes to a bad end.

Since the Pan Twardowski tales we have say he’s a 16th century Polish noble, they look like Faust legend knockoffs.4 But my language, English, is a Germanic language: so maybe my sources don’t go deep enough into Polish tradition.

I’ll get back to ‘pact with a devil’ stories, after looking at two other chaps who really should have known better.

Pwyll, Rhiannon’s Hasty Husband

Then there’s Pwyll, Pendefig Dyfed; often translated Pwyll, Prince of Dyfed. Maybe it’d be more accurate to say Pwyll, Noble of Dyfed. Then again, maybe not.

At any rate, Pwyll was a VIP in Dyfed and Rhiannon’s husband. Maybe “consort” would be more accurate.

This is a Welsh tale, set in a culture with its own rules.

Briefly, Rhiannon is smart, Pwyll is generous, and they’re both at a feast when Gwawl — I’m not sure who he is — asks Pwyll for a favor. Pwyll’s response boils down to ‘sure, anything I can do.’

Gwawl says ‘I want Rhiannon,’ and the conversation goes downhill from there.

Rhiannon being from Annwn didn’t help.

Annwn, Tír na nÓg, Mag Mell and Emain Ablach — are cans of worms I’ll leave for another day. The same goes for Tech Duinn.

The point I’m groping for is that Pwyll was deeply involved with someone from an otherworld, and not exercising sufficient prudence.

Pwyll’s story, the versions we have of it, may have been influenced by post-Christian contact scribes. Or garbled. Ongoing academic arguments over what the ‘real’ Mabinogion was like may never be settled.

Then there are post-Enlightenment efforts to reanimate Druidism, and I’m skidding off-topic again.5

I’m pretty sure that most cultures have stories about someone who lacked street smarts when it came to otherworldly powers.

Dionysus, Pentheus and All That

Walls of Troy, millennia after the Trojan War.I’m guessing that the Faust legend’s roots go back at least to Mycenaean Greece.

That’s the Aegean civilization that came just before Plato and company.

Think of them as the Ancient Greece for Ancient Greeks.

We don’t know much about them, thanks partly to the Late Bronze Age collapse. We lost a great many records in that incident, whatever it was.

I was going somewhere with this. Marlowe. Faustian opera. The Mabinogion. Right.

Dionysus is mainly known as the Greek god of wine, intoxication and insanity.

His story probably goes back to Zagreus and pre-Mycenaean cultures.

The little we know about pre-Mycenaean cultures is not even close to being internally consistent. No surprises there, since some of the fragmented narratives we have may predate Sargon by several millennia.

Pentheus, king of Thebes, reminds me of Marlowe’s Dr. Faustus. Sort of. They’re both a trifle clueless when it comes to dealing with otherworld persons.

Dionysus wasn’t, back in the day, just the god of wine and lethal benders. Among other things, the stories have him taking long excursions, disguised as a human.

Sometimes he’d help folks out, teaching them how make wine.6

Other times: well, there was that Pentheus incident.

Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time??

Antonio Tempesta's 'The Death of Pentheus.' (ca. 1606)Pentheus, king of Thebes — don’t bother trying to remember these names — thought that destroying Dionysian temples and killing the worshipers was a good idea.

Why, I don’t know.

Meanwhile, a stranger had arrived in Thebes.

Figuring the stranger was a Dionysian, Pentheus put him in prison.

Tried to put him, that is. Chains wouldn’t stay chained and doors wouldn’t close properly.

Then the stranger suggested that Pentheus dress as a woman and go see what Theban gals were up to when they went out in the woods.

Pentheus — I mentioned he was clueless, right? — thought this was a good idea.

Long story short, the stranger and Pentheus arrive during Dionysian rites.

The stranger wasn’t a Dionysian follower.

He was Dionysus. Obviously, I figure, to everyone but Pentheus.

And Dionysus was not pleased with the Theban king’s anti-Dionysian policy.

Dionysian rites being what they were, the gals were unhinged.

They spotted Pentheus, misidentifying him as a wild animal.

Pentheus was promptly deboned.

We know the Pentheus story mainly because Euripides wrote “The Bacchae,” a play that’s currently in favor among academics.7

A tip of the hat to number-one daughter, for pointing out the Faust-Pwyll-Pentheus connection. Which may or may not eventually get traction in academia.

Demons, Deals and European Folklore

Louis-Léopold Boilly's 'Tartini's Dream.' (1824)
(From Louis-Léopold Boilly, via Wikimedia Commons, used w/o permission.)
(Louis-Léopold Boilly’s “Tartini’s Dream.” (1824))

Tales about Satan and devils in general abound in my culture: from Robert Johnson’s legendary deal and Tartini’s inspiration, back to stories about St. Theophilus of Adana and St. Cyprian of Antioch.

Sts Theophilus the Penitent and Cyprian of Antioch: Faust Prototypes?

'Legend of the monk Theophilus.' (before 1528)Theophilus was an archdeacon who turned down an offer to be bishop.

Then the regrettable piece of work who became bishop fired him.

Theophilus, the story goes, asked Satan for help, and got it.

Along with the Bishop’s job. In exchange, as usual, for his soul.

Then, smitten by buyer’s remorse, Theophilus changed his mind. He prayed for and got forgiveness: after a lengthy process. Some 14½ centuries later, we recognize Theophilus of Adana as a real historical figure, and a Saint.

“Buyer’s remorse?” Maybe that should be “seller’s remorse.” Moving on.

I see his ‘Satanic interval’ legend as European folklore. Mainly because the legend started with Eutychianus: who is known mainly for cashing in on T. of Adana’s fame by writing an unauthorized biography. Or maybe he really thought he’d been a witness.

Theophilus of Adana’s legendary Satanic deal may be an inspiration of “Faust” legends.

Or maybe St. Cyprian of Antioch’s life was where the Faust legend began.

Or maybe it wasn’t. Either way, Cyprian of Antioch was an alleged magician, repented and is now recognized as a Saint.

He and Justina lived about 17 centuries back, when Christianity was illegal in the Roman Empire. They were killed during Diocletian’s effort to protect his realm.

Ill-advised effort, I think: but I’m a Christian, so I would see it that way.

Maybe Diocletian didn’t realize that, aside from their refusal to recognize Caesars as gods, the Christian obligation to love their neighbors made them good citizens. And that’s yet another topic.

That’s also a lot of “maybes.” I figure that Marlowe’s “Dr Faustus” is based on a German chapbook, which told the story of a con man whose life fit pre-existing folklore. Probably.8

And that vaguely-Faustian cautionary tales were ancient in Homer’s day.

Taking Satan Seriously: But Not Too Seriously

Gustave Doré illustration for Canto XXXIV of Divine Comedy, Inferno, by Dante Alighieri; via Wikimedia Commons, used w/o permission.
(From Gustave Doré, via Wikimedia Commons, used w/o permission.)
(Gustave Doré’s 1860s illustration for Dante’s “Divine Comedy,” “Inferno.” (ca. 1320))

Before I wrap up this installment in my Marlowe’s Faustus series, a few words about humans, angels and demons.

I’m a human. When I die, I won’t become an angel. I can’t.

We’re very different sorts of creatures.

Humans are creatures with intelligence and will, made of spirit and with physical bodies. (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 355–373, 1730)

Angels aren’t.

Angels are people, persons, in the sense that they have intelligence and will. They’re also spirits with no physical bodies. (Catechism, 328–330)

Demons are angels who made a really bad decision. Satan, or the devil, is our name for the angel who decided that saying “no” to God made sense. (Catechism, 391–395)

Like I said, a really bad decision.

I’ll be talking quite a bit about demons, Satan and Marlowe’s Mephistophilis. Necessarily, since the play is about Dr. Faustus’ demonic deal and its consequences.

But I also think C. S. Lewis made a good point:

“…There are two equal and opposite errors into which our race can fall about the devils. One is to disbelieve in their existence. The other is to believe, and to feel an excessive and unhealthy interest in them. They themselves are equally pleased by both errors and hail a materialist or a magician with the same delight….”
(“The Screwtape Letters,” Preface, C. S. Lewis (1942))

Posts that aren’t entirely unrelated to this one:

1 J. G. Faust and stuff inspired by his legend:

2 First post-Faust Faustian ‘Faust’ story:

3 Categorizing stories:

4 Meanwhile, in Poland:

5 European heritage:

6 Ancient civilizations, even more ancient tales:

7 Pentheus, king of Thebes, and a perilous stranger:

8 Comparatively recent folklore and people:

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Art Deco, a Style From Another Era

Posted on February 7, 2021 by Brian H. Gill

Detail: Timothy Pflueger's 450 Sutter in San Francisco, a twenty-six-floor Art Deco skyscraper on Union Square since 1929.I like Art Deco.

Partly because I see it as one of the 20th century’s better ideas.

One of the more upbeat ones, anyway.

“…During its heyday, Art Deco represented luxury, glamour, exuberance, and faith in social and technological progress….”
(Art Deco, Wikipedia)

Then we got Modernist architecture, hula hoops and the Sixties.

I’ve talked about that before.

“Folks who saw virtue in unquestioning devotion to established values didn’t like the 1960s. No institution, custom or belief seemed safe from scrutiny.

“Even the idea of progress — a cherished heirloom from the Age of Enlightenment — was challenged, disputed, and ultimately rejected.

“Visions of a technotopia, where our greatest challenge was deciding how to spend our leisure time, were fading….”
(“Homer, Hegel, History and Hope” (May 12, 2018))

Assuming that progress is inevitably progressive wasn’t and isn’t a good idea. Neither, I think, is assuming that we can’t learn. I put the usual links to more of my take on this and other topics at the end of this journal entry.

The photos show Timothy Pflueger’s 450 Sutter in San Francisco’s — lobby, I think. The first is from The Art Deco Society of California.

This next is from Harsch Investment Properties.

450 Sutter, San Francisco. From Harsch Investment Properties, used w/o permission.

I made a point of visiting 450 Sutter when I lived in San Francisco. What I remember wasn’t as shiny as these photos. Maybe they didn’t have all the lights on when I was there.

More:

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