The Forgotten Mansions: Architecture of the 1920s

The Forgotten Mansions: Architecture of the 1920s in Buenos Aires

If you walk through the Buenos Aires neighborhood of Medellín, you'll come across a postcard that few tourists know: early 20th-century facades, with cement moldings, wrought iron balconies, and solid wooden doors that still keep their original knockers. While the downtown fills with glass towers and el Poblado swallows the hills with luxury buildings, here, on the eastern slopes, the remains of a Medellín that tried to be modern a hundred years ago still stand. In July 2026, you can still see five republican-style mansions that survived "progress." This article is a guide to find them, understand their history, and photograph them without being a nuisance to the neighbors.

Historical and Contextual Introduction

The Buenos Aires neighborhood was born at the end of the 19th century as a suburb of the city, inhabited by workers from the textile and tannery factories that settled near the Santa Elena creek. By the 1920s, Medellín was experiencing the coffee boom and industrialization, and upper-middle-class families began building republican-style houses on what was then the periphery. These mansions mixed neoclassical influences brought by European architects with local techniques of rammed earth and wattle and daub. Today, more than half have been demolished or remodeled without criteria. But some gems remain, almost invisible among the graffiti and motorcycle parts shops.

The curious thing is that Buenos Aires is not in architecture guides. While everyone talks about the Veracruz church or the National Palace, here there is a heritage that is falling apart but still tells how Medellín residents lived a century ago. If you are an architect, urban planner, or simply a traveler tired of shopping malls, this neighborhood will surprise you.

What to Do: A Map of 5 Republican-Style Mansions Still Preserved

Here are five exact addresses where the original facades remain almost intact. Wear comfortable shoes because there are steep climbs, and watch out: some are in the middle of residential streets, so go with respect.

Mansion at 36th Street and 35th Avenue (The Stained Glass Corner)

This is the most photogenic. It has a semicircular stained glass window above the main door with a flower and bird design, typical of the elite paisa houses of the 1920s. The facade is two stories, with a carved wooden balcony and fake Doric columns in cement. Today it serves as a headquarters for the Community Action Board, but the stained glass is still inside. A neighbor told me that Don Pedro Justo Berrío, a coffee merchant who imported the glass from France, lived there. It is recommended to visit on weekdays, in the morning, when there is less movement.

Mansion at 34th Avenue # 37-12 (The Clock House)

On the facade, above the door, there is a sundial embedded in the wall, something very rare in Medellín. The house is single-story, with a clay tile roof and a hallway leading to an inner patio with plants. It belonged to the Mejía Ángel family, owners of a beer factory. Today it is a family home, so you cannot enter, but the facade is a marvel. The detail: the window grilles are spiral-shaped, handmade by a blacksmith of the time. It is on a corner, so there is good light for photos at 4 in the afternoon.

Mansion at 38th Street # 33-15 (The Wainscot Corner)

This house stands out for its original hydraulic tile wainscot, visible from the sidewalk because the door is often open. It is late republican style, with art nouveau influence on the window frames. It was bought in the 1950s by a family of Lebanese immigrants who set up a fabric store on the first floor. Today it is occupied by a grocery store, but the owners preserve the moldings and floors. If you go in to buy a soda, you can take a look at the inner patio, where there is a stone fountain that no longer works.

Mansion at 36th Avenue # 39-08 (The Round Corner House)

An architectural rarity: the corner of the house is curved, with a window that follows the rounded shape. It is two stories, with a rooftop lookout that was once used to watch Independence Day parades. It belonged to the Uribe Echavarría family, connected to the founding of the University of Antioquia. Today it is occupied by several families renting, and the state of conservation is fair: the paint is peeling, but the structure is solid. It is perfect for detail photos of the grilles and column capitals.

Mansion at 37th Street # 34-50 (The Mother's House)

This is the largest of all: it occupies half a block. It has a front garden with palm trees and a three-section facade with Ionic pilasters. It was built in 1925 by the Belgian architect Agustín Goovaerts, who also designed the Palace of Culture. It was inhabited by the family of the writer María Cano, a labor leader of the 1920s. Today it is a private school, the Buenos Aires Lyceum, but from the street you can see the complete facade. The problem: it is enclosed by a high wall, so the best view is from the corner of 34th Avenue. If you talk to the school secretary, they sometimes let you in to see the central patio.

History of Each One: Who Lived There, What Happened, What They Are Today

The five mansions share a common fate: they went from being homes of wealthy families to being occupied by multiple households, institutions, or businesses. But each one has a story worth telling.

The Stained Glass Corner

Don Pedro Justo Berrío was a man who traveled to Europe every two years to buy machinery for his coffee roaster. On one of those trips, he commissioned the stained glass from a workshop in Paris. The house was the site of political meetings during the Liberal Republic (1930-1946), and it is said that President Alfonso López Pumarejo stayed there on a visit to Medellín. In the 1970s, the family sold it and it became a furniture warehouse. Since 1990, it has belonged to the Community Action Board, which uses it for meetings and events. The stained glass is protected by a metal mesh, but it looks good.

The Clock House

The Mejía Ángel family built the house in 1922, just as the brewery they had in downtown was starting to grow. The sundial was installed by a German engineer who worked at the factory. Neighbors say that in the 1950s, the house was the scene of a crime of passion: a son of the family killed his wife in the patio. Since then, they say footsteps are heard at night. Today, an 80-year-old lady, Doña Lucía, who is the granddaughter of the original owners, lives there. She keeps the house almost the same, with period furniture and black-and-white photos on the walls. She won't sell it because she says "the house has a soul."

The Wainscot Corner

The Lebanese immigrants who bought it in the 1950s were the Farah brothers. They set up a fabric store that operated until the 1980s. Then, the house was divided into commercial spaces. Today, the grocery store that occupies the first floor sells everything from panela to detergent, and the owner, Don Jairo, is the one who takes care of the tiles. He told me that when it rains, water seeps through the roof and he has to put buckets in the patio. The Medellín city government promised him help to restore the wainscot, but it never came.

The Round Corner House

The Uribe Echavarría family had it built in 1928, just as the neighborhood was beginning to urbanize. The round corner was not a whim: it allowed carriages to turn without trouble. In the 1940s, the house was rented by the government to house rural teachers who came for training. In the 1970s, a man bought it and turned it into a tenement. Today, six families live there, and the state of the facade is critical: there are cracks and the paint is peeling off. The neighbors have asked for help from the Secretary of Culture, but they say there is no budget.

The Mother's House

Agustín Goovaerts designed this house as a mansion for the family of María Cano, the "Flower of Labor." She was a union leader who fought for workers' rights in the 1920s. Her family supported her, but after her death in 1967, the house was abandoned. In the 1980s, a religious community bought it and turned it into the Buenos Aires Lyceum. Today, students play in the garden where literary gatherings once took place. The school allows guided tours by appointment, but you need to call weeks in advance.

Contrast with Invasive Modern Architecture

If you stop at the corner of 34th Avenue and 38th Street, you'll see a brutal contrast: in front, the Clock House with its clay tile roof; next to it, a 15-story apartment building, all glass and concrete, built in 2020. Neighbors say the construction company offered to buy the mansion to demolish it and build another building, but Doña Lucía refused. "I'd rather die in my house than see it torn down," she told me. That tension between old and new is the story of Buenos Aires over the last 20 years.

On 37th Street, between 33rd and 34th Avenues, there are three apartment towers that were built where a row of republican-style mansions once stood. Only one remains, the Wainscot Corner, because the owner asked such a high price that the builders gave up. Before-and-after photos are striking: in 1990, the entire block was two-story houses with balconies; today, they are 20-story towers that block the sun. A neighbor showed me a photo of his grandmother at the door of her house, in 1985, with the Pan de Azúcar hill in the background. Now, from that same door, you only see building windows.

The worst part is that many of these mansions are not protected by the Land Use Plan. The city government classifies them as "architectural heritage," but that does not prevent owners from remodeling them at will. A sad case is the house at 36th Street # 34-22, which until 2018 had an original facade with plaster moldings. The owner covered it with smooth cement and put a modern metal gate. Now it looks like any warehouse. Local architects have filed complaints on social media, but nothing happened.

Interview with a Neighbor Who Lives in One of Them

Don Jairo, 67, has lived in the Round Corner House since he was born. His father was the first tenant, in 1955. I interviewed him at his doorstep, while a stray dog slept by his side.

—Don Jairo, what was the neighborhood like before?
—Oh, son, this was another world. When I was a kid, all the houses were like this one. You could walk down the street and see the neighbors sitting on their balconies, chatting. Now, everyone is locked up in their apartments, and you don't even know who lives next door. The mansions were the soul of the neighborhood. Now they are just ghosts.