From Cincinnati Enquirer, May 5, 1934
In those optimistic days following the Second World War, suburbs sprouted like mushrooms across the United States, and each little tract house was wired for all the latest electrical appliances. Folk singer Malvina Reynolds called them “ticky-tacky.” Realtors called them “smart houses.”
Fact was, those standardized and electrified suburbs discarded centuries of architectural wisdom. Far from being “smart,” post-war housing consisted of stupid houses forced to rely on energy-gobbling contraptions to make up for ignorant design.
Wander through some of Cincinnati’s pre-war neighborhoods and you will see many features that made older homes easier to heat and, especially, to cool. It is ironic that current occupants of these venerable houses now rely on heavy-duty air conditioners to do the job the house was designed to perform passively. You will see balconies, wide roof overhangs, vents, shutters, thick masonry walls, high ceilings, transom windows and—if they haven’t been removed—mounting brackets for awnings.
All of these features worked together to turn old houses into fairly efficient cooling machines. Awnings and shade trees effectively lowered the temperature of air entering the house by as much as 15 degrees Fahrenheit. Interior structures like transoms, high ceilings, vents and stairwells funneled hotter air up into the attic where it escaped through carefully aligned windows.
Residents back then knew how to adjust the interior for maximum airflow during the summer and for maximum heat retention during the winter. Today, with a bulky air-conditioner whining in the side yard, the passer-by sees that the attic window is sealed shut, transoms locked tight or even plastered over for privacy and nothing left of the awnings except, perhaps, some unused brackets alongside the windows.
Awnings used to be a big deal in Cincinnati. Like the daffodils, awnings billowed out in the spring and disappeared as autumn settled on the town. There were so many companies who installed your awnings in the spring and stored your awnings over the winter that newspapers regularly ran warnings about awnings scams. Here’s the Cincinnati Post [October 26, 1944]:
“Home owners having contracts with established awning firms for removal and storage of awnings were warned Thursday by the Better Business Bureau to look out for the ‘awning man.’ Victor H. Nyborg, general manager, says the ‘awning man’ is calling at homes where awnings are still up and, claiming to represent the awning company, removes them from windows at exorbitant fees. He leaves after collecting, claiming that a truck will call for the awnings.”
Image digitized by the Public Library of Cincinnati & Hamilton County
A drawback to traditional awnings was the need to replace them on a regular basis. No matter how well-made or how carefully treated, canvas aged rapidly under the onslaught of summer sun and rain. It appears that seven or eight years was a really long life for canvas awnings, although some editorialists saw replacement as an opportunity to spruce up your house with the latest fashions. The Enquirer [May 7,1931] certainly thought so:
“Retire those drab and faded veterans of last year. Away with them. Up with gay and cheerful awnings that outdo the sun for brightness. That’s right. Go in for spirited stripes. Wide stripes and narrow stripes. Think nothing of combining five, ten or a whole rainbow of colors. Start with the porch. That’s where you want cool shade on sunshiny afternoons. And put an awning on guard at every window where the sun gets too bold and bright.”
As implied by the directions above, awnings not only cooled the house but helped preserve rugs and furniture from the deteriorating rays of the sun. Interior designers reminded homeowners that, although awnings weren’t cheap, their shade saved money in the long run by shielding your draperies and carpets from solar abuse. Even etiquette doyen Emily Post [Enquirer, May 9, 1937] got into the act, counseling a young couple on a budget to invest in awnings:
“The popularity of Venetian blinds is not hard to understand. But they do not keep the sun from turning your window panes into heaters. If your windows are not equipped with either outside shutters or awnings, then, if I were you, I would spend my first amount on awnings.”
Image digitized by the Public Library of Cincinnati & Hamilton County
It is difficult to disagree with the household designers who promoted the idea that awnings just made your house look cooler—in both senses of that word. Quoting the Architects Small House Service Bureau, the Enquirer [July 8, 1934] was exuberantly in favor of awnings:
“With their touch of gaiety awnings do perhaps more than anything else to dress up the house. They make the low white cottage more charming, give the Spanish house the dash of color it needs, change the ‘just plain house’ into something a little smarter and more homelike.”
Don’t get the impression that awnings only performed their cooling duty out in the suburbs. Multi-story downtown buildings blossomed with awnings in the spring, not only at street level, where great sidewalk-spanning shelters shielded wares on show in the display widows from sunlight, but in the upper floors as well, where offices and apartments sheltered under smaller canvas awnings. As merchants began dispensing with awnings in the late 1940s, the Enquirer [September 15, 1948] reminded readers that awnings were not only sunshades and characteristically harrumphed:
“Unless a building has some form of overhanging cornice, the provision of awnings for the protection of pedestrians on rainy days is a nice, even if a wholly unnecessary, gesture. We dare say that these rain canopies are noted with some appreciation (even though it may not be expressed) by all who don’t care to get wet in a sudden shower – and that includes just about everyone.”
Eventually, canvas awnings gave way to aluminum versions which looked tacky and tainted the whole concept with a low-rent vibe. Awnings fell out of fashion and homeowners turned to their air-conditioners for relief in the summer.
During the mid-1970s energy crisis, awnings enjoyed a minor comeback, as discovered by the Post’s Si Cornell [February 24, 1977] when he visited with the folks at Queen City Awning on Eighth Street. Bob Weingartner, assistant manager, told Cornell that awnings could reduce air-conditioning costs by as much as 77 percent. Cornell waxed nostalgic about the orange awnings with white trim that graced his home as a child, and Weingartner noted that his newest customers were asking for the same colors they remembered as children.
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