Something Nice About Bella Villa

Bayless & Ruprecht Avenues in Bella Villa
South St. Louis County, MO

I love this house, though I don’t get to see it as much as I’d like because of where it’s located.

The tiny,  St. Louis County inner-ring suburb of Bella Villa has a reputation much larger than its population of roughly 700 residents.  It’s a notorious speed trap, with 59% of its 2005 municipal budget coming from traffic tickets.  And though I don’t typically drive crazy fast while gawking at scenery, it does conjure abrupt stops and lane changes for the sake of a photo, and that’s enough to get pulled over and ticketed in Bella Villa.

On the afternoon I took these photos a cop seemed to magically appear from nowhere and pulled someone over.  I kept that business out of the left side of the frame in the photo above.  Even though I was relatively safe being on foot, all the horror stories heard over the years ran through the memory bank, and I slowly slinked away to my car parked around the corner.

Ah yes, the house itself!  It was built in 1938, and the houses right around it on this end of the block all range from 1938-1940.  It’s vaguely art deco and reminds me of some of the places Harris Armstrong was designing around the same time – like this or maybe this.

I also love the Lego look and feel of the house, especially in the way the garage, front steps and entry are attached to the main house.  Also, the house is nicely situated atop a hill, so has the added drama of a stone wall on the side, and a nice high perch from which to watch the speed trap below.

North County MCM: Independent Congregational Church

Old Halls Ferry & Redman Roads
North St. Louis County, MO

The abstract modern mountain peaks that make up the roof of this church are an iconic North County sight.  Those of us who grew up in the Black Jack/Florissant area thought of them as a normal part of the landscape that became especially cool during the Christmas season.  That’s when the peaks were alternately colored red and green by flood lights, and for a few summers, they even did red, white and blue for the 4th of July.  If anyone has photos of that 1970s-80s holiday phenomenon, please please pass me a copy.

So, this was a normal part of the suburban landscape of North St. Louis County, Missouri, and I never thought of them as special until I saw this photo by Ken Konchel in 2000.  It took the eyes of a superb architectural photographer to make me see just how special that roof was, and how unique the entire building was, in general.

I’ve heard firsthand how many of us St. Louisans have had the same kind of awakening about The Arch; it’s always been there, yeah of course it’s cool, but then one day you see it in a detached, abstract manner and you realize what a glorious and unusual beauty it is.  And so it was for me with the Independent Congregational Church.

The church began in 1856 in near North St. Louis, moving to the west side of Fairgrounds Park in 1917 and then moving to the ‘burbs in 1959 to this building by architect Walter Manske.  The building blissfully retains most all (more on that in a minute) of its original pieces…

…like these slanting rectangle hand rails leading from the lower level parking lot on the south side of the building.

This is the 2-story rear of the building, as seen from the south parking lot.  Upstairs is a small chapel and administrative offices with stained glass fenestration.  Below are light-filled classrooms and a small auditorium.

It was in the summer of 2006 that I went inside the building for the first time.  See more photos of that excursion here.  Once inside, the magnificence of the roof turned into awe over how the exterior structure dictated the interior.

The holy, blinding white of the serrated exterior peaks transform into a wooden plank lining of unvarnished red wood, which lends this massive vertical space a reverent hush.  The cables suspending the metal can lights are a reverse echo of the triangles reaching toward the heavens.  The sheer, upward lift of the space truly does inspire one to think lofty, spiritual thoughts, which is the point of ecclesiastical architecture.

I have always been intrigued at how willing American religious parishes have always been to embrace the latest architectural styles and concepts.  The other-worldy goals of religious enlightenment must make them more responsive to grand architectural gestures, and I’ve always loved how the spare lines and expansive geometry of modern architecture – rather than feeling alien to them – gave them a whole new vocabulary of expression.  Quite often, it was a church that introduced modernism to a fledgling mid-century suburban community, setting a tone for the commercial and residential buildings around it.  God bless ‘em!

Blonde, Danish modern fixtures are carried throughout the lobby and auditorium of the church. The angles of this podium on the alter are gravity-defying and maddeningly cool.

Here is a configuration of pews behind the main alter. To have those filled with white robes must be a breathtaking sight.

In the lobby, above the original metal coat and hat racks, remains a pictorial history of parishioners (and their sports trophies). Above we see what looks the folks from the 1930s-40s, and below…

…we come to the end of the picture-taking line, somewhere in the 1990s.  The pictures go from lily white to a mix of black and white folks, and it neatly tells the story of this church from inception to name change in 1998, when it became Christ The King Church.

From its various locations to the changing flesh tones of the photos, one gets the distinct impression that this parish may have followed the St. Louis pattern of White Flight.  My mother and I moved into Black Jack at the point in time when race became an issue for this community.  But it was also the town where I first lived, played and went to school with non-white kids, and it did much to debunk the myths of prejudice I heard all around me.  The current congregation is African-American, and pastor Andre D’Arden is the gentleman who let us roam freely through a building they are rightly proud to be in.

I love that they have not changed much of the building, proving that a beautiful setting – no matter the vintage – allows the users to carry on their business with a sense of higher purpose.

But there are some troubling aspects with the upkeep of this building.  Above is a photo from 2003 documenting the last of the globe lightstands in the upper north parking lot. As can be seen from this shot, people were taking pot shots at the glass.

The globe lightstands traded off with these “U.F.O. hat” lightstands.  in 2009, all of them have finally bitten the dust, as well.

And then there’s that roof.  During the time I lived in the area, it was always a blinding white, and I assumed it was made of cast concrete.  By 2006, normal wear and tear revealed circular plugs in the roof.  Simply placing a hand on the portion of the roof that swoops down to the sidewalk revealed it’s not concrete, but a textured, rubber membrane. And a rubber membrane in great need of a new coat of paint.

In the summer of 2006, I asked Pastor D’Arden about this. He noted the extensive construction work then going on to widen Old Halls Ferry Road, and that all of the dust and debris had really done a job on the roof.  It wasn’t a good idea to tackle a re-paint of the roof until the construction was done, and that made complete sense.

Contrast the above photo from May 2009 with the first photo of this entry (from 2003), and you can see the onset of a deterioration that placed this church on the St. Louis County list of Mid-Century Modern Architecture Worthy of Preservation.

I can understand the garagantuan expense of materials and labor to prep and paint that roof being a deterrant. If you have limited funds, people would come before building. But maybe a special fundraiser and some volunteer painters? If they were to undertake such a project, I’d certainly donate money and would be first in line for a chance to scale that roof!

See more photos of the exterior and interior of this church here.

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Our Lady of Good Counsel

Dellwood MCM: One Perfect Moment

New Halls Ferry Road & 270
Dellwood, MO

I took this photo in the town of Dellwood in North St. Louis County in the early fall of 2003.  As a kid, I mentally referred to it as The Flying Building.  I chanced upon it right as they turned on the lights, which made it look even more so like it was launching into flight.

It was a quick moment, and I made mental note to come back and further explore this building with a camera. Upon returning for that purpose, it was clear the moment had passed. They had knocked down the original Buick sign and junked it up with a bunch more vinyl banners. But at least they haven’t torn down the building.

Yep, I probably just jinxed it.

The Baden Triangle

Intersection of North Broadway & Halls Ferry Road
Baden, MO

Baden is the northernmost burg in St. Louis City, established in 1876.  Because of its location as the terminus of major transportation lines, it became a popular gateway to North County. Or put another way, after World War 2, Baden was like training wheels for veteran city dwellers pedaling toward suburban living.

During the Great Suburban Exodus, the building shown below made an impressive effort to embrace the mid-century modern frontier by donning a sleek and colorful metal screen suit in the mid-1960s.

The heart of the downtown Baden Business District straddles North Broadway and is still mostly intact, building-wise.  It is easy to conjure how it worked and felt in the first half of the 20th century, and will be relatively easy to revive as America re-embraces the logic of density in the coming decades.

The Y intersection of  Halls Ferry & N. Broadway – known as “The Wedge” by locals – was a bit more flexible at changing faces to keep up with the changing times.  Driving up the hill on the Halls Ferry side is like time traveling through architectural styles, from newest to oldest.

From the street, The Wedge looks and feels like one large scalene triangle of a building, but an aerial view reveals that 7 separate buildings make up this tableau (I’m excluding the white building on the northeast corner because it’s an unattached 1970 addition to The Wedge that looks and feels completely separate).

By following the history of these buildings and its past occupants, you get a clear picture of the dominance (before WW2) and decline (post WW2) of the Baden Business District.

At the southwest tip of the triangle is 8312 Halls Ferry, built in 1925, which got a new Art Deco-ish face right around 1944 when Baumgartner Kummer Realty moved in.  In 1948, it became strictly Paul Kummer Realty, and he stayed put until 1983.  Note the display window; is this where he posted enticing pictures of the new modern ranches in North County?  It has been vacant since 1986.

Even though the next two buildings up the hill share the same pink fiberglass and burgundy Vitrolite tile as Kummer Realty, they are two separate buildings, both built in 1925, but obviously re-clad at the same time.

8314 Halls Ferry (above) has been home to John Flood, a paper hanging contractor (1932), Charles Schmidt Jewelers (1948-1960), Hartig Jewelers (1961- 65) and Baden Jewelry till 1968, when Paul Kummer Realty took it over. His business was obviously booming! It sat vacant from 1977 till the early 1990s, when a couple of outlet stores moved in, but then left.  It remains vacant.

8318 Halls Ferry was Lungstras Dyeing & Cleaning Co. until it became Rockwood Cleaners in the late 1950s, then Hampton Cleaners & Laundry from 1961 till the building went vacant in 1966 and remained that way until a series of businesses came and went from 1999 till 2006.  The space is currently vacant.

The building at 8324 Halls Ferry went up in 1927 and started life as Louis Becherer Hardware.  I’m supposing the the missing cladding on the ground floor was Vitrolite that went up when the space became Leyerle Jewelry Co. from 1941 – 1983 (getting the impression that Baden was the place to buy jewelry?).  The upstairs was an optometrists office for a bit of the 1930s before it converted over to residential rental.  Since 1992, nothing much has gone on with either floor of the building, other than being stripped of its pretties.

We move up the hill to the L-shaped Ludwig Building, an impressive 4-story affair built in 1929 in the classic urban tradition of retail on the ground floor and apartments above (43 total).  Most everything about this building has remained virtually unchanged, which may account for its current sad state.  More on that in a second.

Storefront 8332 (shown above) started life as Baden Delicatessen and then became Howard’s Cleaners from 1941 to 1958 (how many cleaners did they need in one block?). From 1958 – 1990 it became a part of LeRose Flower Shop at 8330 Halls Ferry, and then converted back to single occupancy for Miss Connie’s Fashions and Matthews Realty & Investment. It has been vacant for most of the 2000s.

Here is the only entrance to the Ludwig Apartments that remained open in summer 2008, and at that time, there were occupants.

Here’s the overall corner view of the Ludwig Building, showing how grandly it occupies the summit of The Wedge.  Note window A/C units in some of the windows and know that the apartments have never been updated.

At the end of 2008, all remaining residents were evicted, new owners bought the place for a song in early 2009, and now every entrance and storefront is boarded up.

From street view, the building is still remarkably intact, and I’m picturing a brave and adventurous developer knocking down partition walls to make larger apartments or even loft condos. The potential for this building is huge, as it is for everything in The Wedge.

The corner storefront of the Ludwig Building was a Velvet Freeze ice cream parlor from 1941 – 1999, and that is as it should be for such a great location.

This is the Muriel Street side of the Ludwig, and note that – somehow – the original transom glass has survived over all these storefronts! Attorney Edward Rothganger had an office at 848 Muriel from 1938 – 58, at which point The Baden News Press (yes, the town had its own newspaper until 1977!) expanded into this spot.

This side of the Ludwig had better luck with  retail remaining, with Forever Diva’s (at 844 Muriel) being in business until everyone was evicted in winter 2008.  Heading down the alley (to the left in the above picture), there is a long row of sealed overhead doors, which meant the apartments surely took pride in boasting “enclosed” or “off-street parking” as a perk for renters.  With a little imagination, it could be a selling point again…

And we head down Muriel to North Broadway, where we return to the building that started our tour – The Medical Center.  This 2-story brick building went up around 1925, and the place got a new face right around 1966 (see how the metal screen fastened to the brick).

8315 is the portion of this building at the tip of the wedge, which originally housed the Baden Building & Finance Corporation upstairs and Herman Ludwig Drugs at street level.  In 1941, Boesel’s Royal Drugs took over the space until closing up shop in 1983. A Dollar Store and a beauty supply went in during the 1980s and 90s, but the entire building has been vacant since the City took it over in 1999.

Here we have the Baden Medical Center proper, so known by the fabulous stainless signage that remains in place to this day. In 1966, 7 doctors had practices inside, dwindling down to 4 by 1973, and one doctor and one attorney by 1986.

In the early 2000s, the City spent quite a bit of money to build a spiffy, multi-level bus stop at the tip of The Wedge, which also signaled that these buildings were ripe for redevelopment.  But the bus stop is now overgrown and littered, and the For Sale signs on the Medical Center are a little moldy. But as long as they don’t tear them down, hope remains.

See more photos of The Baden Triangle here.

Walking Tour of CWE MCM, May 17th

From Landmarks Association:

Sunday, May 17, 2009:  Film and Walking Tour

This was the Future: Mid-Century Modern Architecture on Lindell Blvd.
10:00 a.m.
Begin inside the Chase Park Plaza Cinema, 212 N. Kingshighway

Have a mid-century modern morning in May! A screening of the new short documentary San Luis: This Was the Future tells the story of the threatened San Luis Apartments.  After the 10 minute film, Toby Weiss of beltstl.com and Michael Allen (ecology of absence) will lead a walking tour of the many mid-century treasurers along Lindell Boulevard, where modern design flourished between World War II and the 1970s.  The walk will run from the Chase Park Plaza Hotel to Vandeventer and back, so be prepared for serious walking.

See a free movie, take a free tour, get a little exercise, get a lot of knowledge… there are worse ways to spend a Sunday morning!  Please do join us Sunday if you can.  Michael is the brains of the outfit, I’ll be the “little song, little dance, a little seltzer down the pants.”  It promises to be a good time.

San Luis on KSDK

See video of Randy Vines romancing the San Luis on KSDK.

Good job of hearing from both sides.  Now, what about actually having meaningful conversation face to face?

The Archdiocese goal of more parking can be achieved in several different ways. The value of that land and its greater use can be achieved in several different ways.  More can be accomplished by joining together than by tearing apart, and the Friends of the San Luis are extending a hand to the Archdiocese.  Here’s hoping they return the sentiment.

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San Luis documentary “This Was The Future”

Jennings Bank: In Plain Sight

Jennings Station Road and Lewis & Clark Blvd.
Jennings, MO

Built in 1967, this building has always been a bank.  It is located in a nebulous part of North St. Louis County, where you move a block it’s Jennings, move a few blocks over it’s Bellefontaine Neighbors, though a bit of Moline Acres sneaks into a crack.  The bank that now occupies the building uses Jennings as their mailing address, so Jennings it is.

My paternal grandmother lived a few blocks away from here (with a Bellefontaine Neighbors mailing address), so I grew up with this bank as a normal part of daily life.  Back in the day, the concrete roof and columns were bright white, but the new beige does not diminish the dramatic tension of a delicate band of clerestory trapped between heavy concrete and solid brick.  Though the vertical blinds in the glass wall bump out do slightly mar the sense of floating.

But drive by at night to get a better sense of light vs. heavy.  Do you notice something odd between night and day?

At night, the virile and industrial bank vault is left exposed, but during the day, those vertical blinds keep it hidden.  Back in the day, it was always exposed.  If anyone knows why the current inhabitants keep this curious blind parting schedule, please do share.

This Was The Future

Towards the effort to save the San Luis, a documentary was made in 48 hours over the first weekend in March 2009. I was honored to be asked to be a part of this adventure, and a big round of applause to everyone involved. You’re all brilliant.

There are plans for a proper screening in May during Preservation Week (details forthcoming), but you can watch it now.  It’s less than 8 minutes long, so watch it a couple of times, and pass it around.  It’s an easy way to raise the profile of a building longing to be spiffed up and returned to its glamorous life.

Mid-Century Fetish: Down With Love

Down With Love, released in 2003, is a homage to classic Doris Day & Rock Hudson films of the 1960s, starring Ewan McGregor and Renee Zellweger. It works as both a tongue-in-cheek commentary and earnest love letter to that style of romantic comedy film.

Critics buried the film, and basically no one but me and my Mother saw it in the theaters. But two crew members did get nominated for a few independent film awards, and rightly so, because they were the meat and potatoes of this venture.

Costume designer Daniel Orlandi totally nailed the spirit of a typical Doris Day wardrobe, which was fabulous! Production designer Andrew Laws studied the sets of the original Day-Hudson films, then injected them with the revival of mid-century modern design that was foaming to a head, and thus created the ultimate fetishistic object for MCM design fans.

The lobby of Know magazine

Over the years, I have seen Pillow Talk – where Doris Day plays an interior decorator – easily 40 times. The sets are just as important as the actors and the plot and, for the last 10 years or so, I watch the backgrounds more than the foreground. So when Down With Love set decorator Don Diers said their sets were intended to be a “distinct character in the film,” my applause is deafening for a goal perfectly achieved. As with Pillow Talk, I can watch this film with the sound down and still be wildly entertained.

Catcher Block's office

The movie begins with this narration:
The place: New York City
The time: now – 1962. And there’s no time or place like it.

Diers confirmed this by saying, “Our New York exteriors existed in the back lot world of Universal. We made a concerted effort to recreate a 1963 Hollywood New York, as opposed to anything that might have been mistaken for reality. Through Fox Research, we searched a lot of old movie stills for just the right tone.”

Barbara Novak's Manhattan penthouse apartment

This level of fantasy detail is supremely delightful. Bringing to life idealized versions of what 1962 surely looked like is thoroughly satisfying and can be a time-consuming hobby.

Here’s a piece on how to re-create the Barbie doll feel of Barbara Novak’s penthouse apartment.

The bachelor pad of Catcher Block

And here’s a piece on how to get that “woman’s man, man’s man, man about town” look for your bachelor pad.

Another view of Catcher's apartment

Catcher's fireplace and vintage stewardess

As much as I genuinely love and strive to document real-world examples of mid-century modern architecture and design, I do get uneasy about the fetish aspect of it. The definitions of “fetish” succinctly explain my uneasy feelings:

1. an object regarded with awe as being the embodiment or habitation of a potent spirit or as having magical potency

2. Any object, idea, etc. eliciting unquestioning reverence, respect or devotion

3. Any object or nongenital part of the body that causes a habitual erotic response or fixation

Finding evidence of a design time period and collecting the items and/or trying to recreate that look is a time-honored tradition. Early American architecture was founded on the revival of most every European building style of most every century. So, reverential recreation of mid-20th century design is a natural progression, and may be the only thing that finally preserves the best examples of such for future generations.

Lobby of Novak's Now magazine

But there does exist unrealistic expectations among those cultivating a mid-century way of living. The most intriguing example comes from the stories of a realtor friend who specializes in finding St. Louis MCM homes for her clients.

Coming into Barbara Novak's office

In a nutshell, some folks want to live in subdivisions with homes like these, but they want it to look exactly as it did when first built. They look at what 40+ years of inhabitant’s remodeling did to the place and just don’t want to deal with the effort required to restore it to that original state.

Novak's office

Remodeling industry figures show that the average homeowner remodels at least the kitchen and bathroom every 10 years, and that when someone moves into a pre-existing home, some form of remodeling will take place. This is a psychological, aesthetic and functional desire to erase previous footprints and mold the home to your wants and needs.

Waiting area at Now magazine

If the house is over 25 years old, it’s going to automatically need upgrades to systems, roofs and exterior finishes. Maintenance is an on-going chore for a house of any age.

It is easily understood that the purchase of a period home is going to require a lot of work. Whether wanting to totally modernize it or restore it to its original state, it is the equivalent of a second full-time job until the job is done. Wait, the job is never truly done, so scratch that. It’s more like raising a child.

The Pan Am building is real, the rest is Hollywood

A house built in the 1950s or 60s is now, technically, a period home. Aside from the maintenance and repairs it will require, if you want to take it back to the original form, it requires remodeling. Many homeowners – especially first-time buyers – understandably don’t want to deal with this much work and expense. If that’s their mindset, then walking into a 1960s ranch that only looks like that from the outside is a major bubble pop, and disillusionment thwaps hard upside the head.

But what is it about mid-century architecture that makes it harder for us to accept the remodeling realities of a place that has been normally remuddled over the decades? Why do we expect these period homes to be like a perfectly preserved dollhouse?

Set for the closing credit musical number

Maybe it’s because it is the recent past. The second half of the 20th century went by at lightening speed; 25 years can feel like only 5 years gone, and how much can you mess up something in that short period of time? A home built in 1912 is an antiquated beast requiring massive work to bring it to current standards. But a 1950s ranch has central air conditioning and drywall, so we recognize it as “of our time.”

Then we see something like Down With Love, where they wave a magic Hollywood wand and create a mid-century Xanadu. Target lets us take home credible recreations of that era. Dwell shows regular people living in that world. It’s as easy as populating a dollhouse, right?

If only.

Childhood Memories of a Ladue MCM Teardown

In Spring 2006, I documented the last days of a Ladue mid-century modern home that was tagged for teardown. It was built in 1950 for Louis and Mary Zorensky, and the undeniable beauty of this home, coupled with its sad fate, sparked a lot of posthumous anger and admiration.

See the departed Zorensky Residence here.

Learn more about what replaced it here (scroll down 30%).

A Google aerial shot of the Zorensky Residence.

Recently, one of the daughters of Louis Zorensky found the B.E.L.T. entry about her childhood home, wrote to say she was moved by the photos, and ask if it was possible to have copies of them.

I sent her a photo CD that included the published photos along with many unpublished extras. I consider it a duty to photographically preserve mid-century modern history, and an honor when some of those photos can preserve treasured family memories, as well.

The same space after the Zorensky Residence was torn down for redevelopment.

Irene and her sister Doris were kind enough to share some of their memories of their life inside this dearly departed home, and I now share them with you. What touches me the most is that you can tear down a home, but love keeps it alive beyond the physical plain.

From Doris Zorensky Cheng

My brother, David, let me know about your website and its incredible pictures of our family home. When I pulled up the website, I was amazed at the photographs and how they captured the essence of its wonderful siting, daring 1950′s architecture, wall planes and roofing following the lay of the land and its modern detailing with lots of glass, overhangs and ins and outs.

Thank you so much for the wonderful comments on your website. My father would have hated to see the house demolished but he would have so appreciated those comments. He loved that house that he and Mom built and took such good care of. He also loved the old trees that had been part of a larger parcel of land that was an arboretum for a previous owner. He worked to preserve them. That some people so appreciated his house would have made him so happy.

I was 7 years old when we moved in. My schoolmates would tell me that they had seen our glass house on Warson Road and how different it was. One person actually told me that people living in glass houses should not throw stones.

Another memory is of my brothers, sisters and me playing pretend in the tall pine tree grove at the front of our house. We also had fun rolling down the hill in the back, especially when there was snow. And then there was the fun modern furniture and the quirky details like the circular planter in the entry hall, the wood cabinet bar area and the radiant heated terrazzo floors that we sometimes sat on to get warm.

But as a child, I did not appreciate the house itself as I can now. Your wonderful photographs helped me see it with a fresh eye. I just wish another family that loved 50′s modern architecture could have bought and preserved it. I am grateful for having your pictures. Thank you so much.

From Irene Zorensky Fowle

Growing up in the Mayview home was an interesting experience. My parents always had a great appreciation for modernism, which was reflected not only in their home but in a remarkable contemporary art collection which they were able to showcase in that home. The large walls and high ceilings, the lovely angles of natural light, the neutral colors, and the overall openness of the home allowed the art to breathe and help define the space; there were no ornate moldings and lots of color to detract from the art.

Obviously, the very open floor plan was quite distinctive. My parents gravitated towards very neutral colors and natural materials .They had unpainted cabinets, natural wood doors, cork floors in the back hallway, beautiful earth-colored terrazzo floors (with delicious radiant heat–especially a treat after playing in the snow)–all avant garde then.  They had architecturally simple but very high quality matte chrome and nickel hardware – all of this in a time and geographic locale where shiny brass doorknobs and colonial design prevailed (and still does!!).

It looks like the subsequent owners painted one of the living room walls bright red, and obviously they painted the exterior gray-green covering up the natural brick, redwood trim, and rough limestone that my parents worked so hard to preserve.

My parents had window coverings and curtains that were frequently left wide open to allow the vistas of the trees and landscape to add color and definition to the home. The large, expansive windows also contributed to this openness – my Dad loved the outdoors, both working in his yard and enjoying the views from the house. The land had been an arboretum when my Dad bought it, so most of the large, incredible trees (many of them removed, sadly, for the new house)  were there when he bought the land and throughout the 40-plus years my parents lived there . As one of five kids, the three acres were great growing up as we had lots of space to run and sled on the magnificent hill and have hideouts under the great trees.

It was interesting growing up in that house. I always felt different from my friends with their traditional cozier homes, but there was also an inherent pride in that differentness. My mother kept the house spotless and in magnificent condition, and you captured in your blog the found items that revealed my Dad’s habit of never throwing anything away. He kept so many of the original materials from the construction of the house. The archaeological finds you detail – bits of wallpaper, hardware, keys – was so characteristic of my dad.  Also, he participated in the architectural design of the home; as a real estate developer, he was also a frustrated architect and a part-time artist. He had a real vision in a time when it was rare to approach home design with such inherent purity and a sense of symbiosis with the land. Your touching photos really capture this! It sounds like the original bathrooms and the kitchen with its meticulous metal cabinets were there to the end, even with the 50′s colors of ceramic tile, etc. in tact.

Also, very striking was the lovely proportion of the house, not only in scale with the lot and the sweep of the land, but also relative to the lovely house across from it–I hope that home does not have the same demise!

I am so grateful that you captured the house. I thought about going in before it was torn down, but I was worried about  what the subsequent owners might have done to change the house that was my home, and also, afraid of how painful it might be. Your photo dialogue has really been a great gift to me and my siblings. I wish my mother were well enough to share it with her – she would be very honored and touched. You have made my late dad proud!!!