CARROLL COUNTY COURTHOUSE
COURTROOM PRESSED METAL CEILING
I lived in Eureka Springs, Arkansas from 2000 until 2005, and in my third year in this mountainous area bordering Missouri, I was asked to restore the pressed metal ceiling of the old courthouse in Berryville. Built in 1880 as a two-story solid brick structure, the third floor was added in the early oughts of the 1900s. The building was allowed to fall into disrepair, some say so they could build a new courthouse elsewhere. I imagine it was a bear to maintain and that older people couldn't get up the stairs. The Carroll County Historical Society rescued it and wrote a lot of grants and begged a lot of craftsmen repair what they could, to build exhibits and move historic displays into the building, and today, for less than five dollars, you can spend an afternoon perusing the contents of many an old shop, collection, or attic, presented and preserved well enough that you feel like you're back in 1880.
The roof was one of the main problems, as were the bats. Thousands of bats had taken up residence in the huge attic, and once the roof was repaired, (or just before, more like), the bats were evicted. But a lot of damage was already done, and that's where I came in.
Rain had filtered through the enormous quantities of bat guano (droppings), and this mixture was volatile enough to not only rust a good deal of the decorative metal ceiling, but in some places the highly filigreed details were so fragile that touching them would cause the metal to crumble.
I accessed the attic, noted that the extensive framework holding the metal was mostly intact, and reinforced it where it wasn't. I removed all the guano (my vacuum and respirator got a serious workout) and coated the backs of the metal panels with liquid Rust Reformer, a product containing silica glycol. This is used by the auto body repair industry to stop rust and convert it into a hard, resilient surface that will not rust again. I then used polyurethane caulk to create a strong backing where the panels had been compromised. Then the hard part began.
East Side
This is the east side of the courtroom after the ceiling was restored. In the background is the 1920s telephone exchange, in front of that is the barber shop, and just to the left, out of the picture, is the apothecary. Many cases filled with artifacts make small walls of history around the room.
This, of course presented a problem on top of another, bigger problem. How was I to get to the ceiling at all, since it was nearly fifteen feet high? And how in the world was I to move around the room?
I rented a two-stage scaffold on wheels, built an oversized platform just high enough to make working comfortable, and created some work tables cantilevered out beyond so I could move around the platform. Using wire brushes, sandpaper, and wire wheels that I attached to a large flex-shaft powered by a 1/3 horsepower motor, I removed the flaking lead paint and scuffed the paint still attached. Of course, I used what technology there was in 2003 to protect the museum, the building, and myself. I built a fresh-air intake and a huge exhaust fan with multiple layers of filters (it was summer, of course, and I sweated a LOT) and set up a special vacuum with HEPA filters, its hose able to be positioned wherever my paint removal took place.
Luckily, 90% of the ceiling was as solid as the day it was attached to the frame below; only parts were compromised by the guano/water. These areas had to be treated with kid gloves, painstakingly wire-brushed and then coated with the same silica glycol to harden them and stop the rust on their business side. I then used acrylic/silicone caulks layered thin in multiple applications to fill the damaged sections and recreate the details of the damaged panels. Once this was done, the damaged panels were solid enough to knock on with my knuckles. They also looked like no damage was ever done to them.
South Side
Here we can see more cases, a huge handmade oak loom (one of the hardest items to move), violin shop, and the judge's bench. The entire courtroom was still furnished, complete with jury box and lawyers' tables. I had very little human help to move things, but I must admit that if I had none, I'd never have finished it. I am a bit of a physicist, and know a lot about levers and fulcrums. I used a few of those 'furniture glides' that were new on the market in 2003, but depended more on piles of rags under the feet of most of the cases and heavier objects. I could not move the apothecary, bench, or telephone exchange (nor the violin shop, barber shop, or many other built-ins), so I moved the scaffold in pieces into those areas and carefully worked around the exhibits.
I really don't know how I did it all. It took me almost six months and gave me a serious painful neck condition that lasted for years. Not pictured in this post are the three OTHER rooms, which, though smaller, were just as difficult. Luckily the staircase had no pressed metal, but I still had to build extensive scaffolds to repair the plaster ceiling there, and it was hand-made and MUCH more complex. I'm still searching for those pictures and will post them when I find them.
The painting was the easiest part. I used Benjamin Moore D.T.M, an alkyd direct-to-metal paint, applied in two coats by brush. The brush allowed me to get the paint into the deeper sections of the panels and to regulate the depth of each coat, something spraying would not do. I used a metal primer where rust had occurred or acrylic caulk was used.
Painting was the easiest part, though it had to be coordinated carefully to allow for the least scaffold movement in the period in which I could apply the two coats with adequate drying time.
And yes, the third floor was closed to the public during the entire job!
West Side
Here the jury box is visible on the left side of the picture, beyond the railing.
The pressed metal ceiling was made by the W.F. Norman Company, which still makes pressed metal panels in their factory in Nevada (pronounced neh-VAY- da), Missouri. Many of the pressed metal ceilings still existing in America came from that factory, and at one time they had hundreds of panel designs. The company still makes panels (and is still owned by the Norman family), but not quite as many varieties. And they did not make this pattern when I did this job. This might have been a good thing; I discovered that removing panels is about as difficult a task as can be done, since it would usually compromise the adjacent panels as well as destroy the one you're trying to remove. They make the panels on enormous presses; the same presses from the turn of the century. The steel is dipped in molten tin to keep them from rusting.
The most damage to the ceiling was found in the lower areas of relief, due to the fact that water will always find the lowest level as it flows. The square edges of the panels often had a lot of damage, but it was the fasces (fas-KEES) between the square panels that had the most damage and were the most challenging to repair. A fasces is a bundle of sticks wrapped with leather straps; the Romans carried these symbols of their Empire into battle as well as before parades, usually with an axe positioned in the middle of the bundle, head protruding high. You can see one on old dimes, those with the Mercury Head.
If you are interested, the entire ceiling is over seven thousand square feet.
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