New colors, roof, gutters and a forensic report

With every plan to repair something on this old house comes an urgency to study and document what is learned in the process. We took a good portion of the month of August to replace an out-of-date roof and listing gutters while also restoring soffits, fascia, some of the shake and painting all around and we’ve been compiling notes and organizing photos since.

Sidebar: the project went without a hitch – on time and under budget – in good part due to the skill and care offered by Peter Halper and Aaron Stark; two fine and patient craftsmen who are willing to work alongside handy homeowners. Highly recommended.

Along the way, we confirmed a few things and learned a few more.

1.) We knew that the pebble-dash stucco on the exterior walls had been covered by cedar shake sometime in the 1930s. We were unsure, however, if that stucco might be salvageable one day, and this project would answer that question. We would expose it on at least three surfaces to inspect.

Unfortunately, the stucco is too far gone to be repaired, but as much from nails as from weathering. When nailing strips and shingles were fastened to the surface in the 1930s, it was as if the house was thrown into a battlefield line of fire and the pebble dash is now riddled with holes that have expanded, in some cases, to canyons. A restoration to the original material would take months if not years, and never result in a uniform and sound surface.

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2.) A 1929 photograph showed the chimney covered in diamond-shaped shingles only eleven years after original construction. We wondered if that was evidence that it the chimney had never been surfaced with stucco, despite Wright calling for it in his specifications and drawings.

Courtesy: Shorewood Historical Society

Instead, deconstruction exposed pebble dash and confirmed that it was the original chimney surface.

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Coincidentally, a very early photograph appeared (posted by a neighbor on Facebook) just as the project was getting underway and this image, combined with the physical evidence, confirmed both a pebble dash chimney and cedar shake as the first roofing material. So we can conclude that the builder was taking care to adhere to specifications written by Frank Lloyd Wright, but the buyers elected to make changes very soon after construction. Why were the original surfaces covered up so quickly? Had something gone wrong? Future reporting will explore this possibility.

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(Photo courtesy: Claudia Reinhardt Johnson)

3.) Finally, sometime in the 1970s, the soffits and fascia were clumsily covered with tin flashing and over the years, it had warped and worn poorly. We expected to find something worse underneath, like dry-rotted wood. Instead, we were pleased to find that shingles and tongue-and-grooved bead-board had been applied tastefully when the home was re-sheathed in the 1930s, and that it was both serviceable and attractive. So ninety-year-old materials have been reclaimed and today, look as new.

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Additional renovation and interior images can be found on Instagram. Follow our progress at: https://www.instagram.com/elizabethmurphyhouse/.

*1929 Image Courtesy: Shorewood Historical Society.

Learn more about the tiny Frank Lloyd Wright house in Shorewood, Wisconsin

Neighbors, friends and the historically curious are invited to attend a presentation – chock full of photographs, tales of stewardship and mysterious backstories – about the historic Elizabeth Murphy House, the only Frank Lloyd Wright-designed home in Shorewood, Wisconsin. You’ll feel as if you’ve been on a virtual tour!

This event is co-sponsored by the Shorewood Historical Society, the Shorewood Public Library and the Shorewood Senior Resource Center and will be held on Tuesday, September 17 at 7PM in the Village Center (3920 N. Murray Ave.)

This special event is free and open to the public and coincides with the launch of the Shorewood Historical Society’s “In-House Research” project, which will be open for inspection on September 17.  From the society’s newsletter:

“The Society has collected and organized all of its home research materials in the Sheldon Room in the Village Center in order to better assist Shorewood homeowners who wish to research their homes.”

Contact (414) 847-2726 or email shorewoodhistory(at)yahoo.com with questions about this event and others.

Frank Lloyd Wright’s Elizabeth Murphy House to be featured in 2019 OSHER presentation

Public tours of this private residence are exceedingly rare. However, you can learn more about The Elizabeth Murphy House and its place in Frank Lloyd Wright’s work and legacy, by attending a presentation on Friday, June 14, 2019, at 12:30pm at the Hefter Center at the University of Wisconsin – Milwaukee. Seats are limited. Registration opens on May 15th. 

The program is part of the summer series at the OSHER Lifelong Learning Institute at UWM’s School of Continuing Education.

Here is the abstract:

How Frank Lloyd Wright Built an Artistic Legacy From a Tiny House

Frank Lloyd Wright’s first foray into affordable housing is frequently overlooked, just as the Elizabeth Murphy House (American System-Built Model A203) was forgotten until rediscovery in 2015. The well-preserved tiny home boasts fundamental Wright design concepts, but also reveals shortcuts and cover-ups – evidence of misunderstandings, overruns and angry buyers – and the markings of an experimental idea stuck on the launchpad that Wright regretted, would downplay, and later, correct. Using photographs, drawings and historic timelines, this presentation clarifies Wright’s decision to orphan the ASBH program and how his subsequent work and legacy would be launched by the experience.

Learn more here: https://uwm.edu/sce/courses/how-frank-lloyd-wright-built-an-artistic-legacy-from-a-tiny-house/

 

Sixteen Russell Barr Williamson designs less than one mile from FLW’s Murphy House

We had the privilege of visiting with Dorothy Hoffman again, the lifelong friend of Teddy Kibbie, who grew up in our Elizabeth Murphy House. Dorothy visited a little over a year ago with Kathy Kean, from the Shorewood Historical Society.

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With this visit, we hoped to explore other relationships in the neighborhood when the Elizabeth Murphy House was new.

For example, Dorothy’s parents, who lived on the 4200 block of Ardmore, were friends with Russell Barr Williamson, the noted architect who had worked with Frank Lloyd Wright and Arthur L Richards on the construction of the nearby Bogk House and the Munkwitz Apartments before going into business for himself.

After Williamson left Wright’s employment, he moved temporarily to Kansas City in 1917 to 1918*. A year later, Williamson returned to the neighborhood to build his own home and studio about 10 blocks from here, earned his Wisconsin architect’s license, and then designed the 1921 Eggers Cottage and the 1922 Richards Bungalow, both within a few hundred feet of here.

Importantly, Wright’s former assistant Williamson would play a large role in shaping the aesthetic of Village of Shorewood.

In total, Russell Barr Williamson designed 16 homes within the 1 square mile that is Shorewood Wisconsin. As of today, just one has been dismantled and the rest are private residences. Here they are, organize by year constructed and proximity to this Elizabeth Murphy House, which is designated with a white star and the year 1918 in the southeast quadrant.

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Dorothy recalls Mr. Williamson visiting her family home when she was a child. She said he was a big, friendly man who consumed large quantities of her father’s sandwiches and beer and who had a “lot of money” — not surprising given his booming local business.

Every morning we wake to this view of Williamson’s lovely Egger’s Cottage, a cinder-bock Prairie Design. This photo was taken from our front window. and are reminded that it is a small neighborhood with a big history.

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* Barr Williamson Jr., Russell, Russell Barr Williamson Architect – A Collection, 2000, The Barr Brand.

Beauty in an imperfect system

A legendary local cabinet maker walked into the kitchen, gazed upon the original upper cabinets and exclaimed “magnificent!” They are simple boxes, built in place one hundred years ago and still housing plates and cups and carrying the prints and patina from  thousands of oily fingers opening and closing the doors. As seen above, the deeper cabinets get less attention than those handier to the person needing a bowl.

The carpentry is basic. Butt and mitre joints are held fast with nails; no glue. One cabinet is deeper than another. Shelves are held up by stepped bevelled supports and can be adjusted up or down.

These American System-Built Homes were part of a “system” conceived by Frank Lloyd Wright and his project partner Arthur L. Richards, whose job it was to sell and supply materials to independent contractors who would assemble the pre-cut kits on site.

In our case, a carpenter named Herman Krause contracted to build the house but didn’t finish it. Instead, he walked from the job-site after 18 months and sued the buyers for back payments. There had been material shortages and cost overruns. We’re reminded of these tense times every time we get a coffee cup. As Krause was hurriedly installing kitchen cabinets just before walking away, he used the last imperfect scraps of birch to make this door, leaving deep milling scars from Richard’s lumberyard saw-blade for all to see. It’s something a cabinet-maker would never do, unless he wanted to make a point.

The “system” wasn’t working.

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Compress, release, repeat.

Frank Lloyd Wright designed experiences for the people who entered his spaces. One of his most famous experiential tools is called “compression and release.” By creating a deliberately small space through which one must pass before reaching a larger space, he caused a temporary sense of tension, followed by the feeling of freedom. Call it manipulative, but we have seen that it can be powerful. Guests who succeed in finding our front door tend to hesitate before entering the narrow passage to knock. When we answer the door, we often find them wondering if they are in the right place and looking claustrophobic.

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The tiny Elizabeth Murphy House boasts two waves of compression and release. The first comes at the porch entryway and porch door leading to the sleeping porch (propped open in this image), and the second comes after passing through the original main door (closed ahead) and through a narrow passageway to the living room and the heart of the house in front of the hearth.

The waves are unmistakable and can be quantified by measuring the space around the person making the journey from the front to the middle of the house.

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For the above chart, we measured the changing field of view of a person taking 42 steps from the front outside sidewalk to the indoor fireplace, near the center of the house. For visual simplicity, we’ve summed the space from floor to ceiling, left to right and in front (the range of vision) to show how a visitor’s perspective changes rapidly from large, to small, to large, to small again, and finally, to very large when they stand under a high ceiling with views out windows facing south, north, east and west. The sense of release is most dramatic at the very heart of the house. That, too, was a stroke of Wright design genius and lives today in all who feel it.

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By adding a garage, a previous owner saved this Frank Lloyd Wright house

In the life of a house, owners must make modifications to keep up with wear and tear. In the life of a historically-significant house, changes are judged on how well they balance preservation with necessity. While this house remains remarkably preserved in terms of footprint, original equipment, trim and interior surfaces, it has seen three significant changes since it was built a hundred years ago.

  1. The external stucco was covered in the 1930s with cedar shake.
  2. The single-pane windows were replaced with double panes in stages between the 1950s and the 90s.
  3. Since the house had no drive, garage or carport, a garage was added under the sleeping porch in 1976.

Purists might view the garage addition as lamentable; a “significant alteration.” Cosmetically, they would be right. The front facade is very different from Wright’s vision, since below grade is now exposed. It’s akin to that teenage trick where an eyelid is folded back and sticks. There is also a philosophical problem: Wright hated garages. He thought they were places to collect junk.

So in 2017, we began to gradually deemphasize the visual impact of the change. We removed aging veneers, fixtures and faux surfaces, replaced the garage doors, and painted all in muted colors. We’re not done.

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Yet, we are massively thankful to the previous owner who built the garage.

Structural evaluation shows that without it, the house may not be standing today. Original plans (below) reveal footings on two elevations: deep enough for a full basement under the main house and shallow under the porch (and front flower box).

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Over the years, as water moved and soil shifted, the shallower footings were quicker to move than the deeper ones, which had more surface area and were connected to concrete floors. The porch began to sag. It moved at least 3/8 of an inch in comparison with the main space.

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By adding a garage, the owner lifted and supported the porch before the problem became serious. Today, the whole house rests solidly on equally-deep footings and the foundation is integrated and sound.

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Something to give thanks for. – 11/22/2018.

PS: Mark Hertzberg: do you have that AMC Pacer image?