January 2010 » book review

Spanish Showcase

Casa del Herrero: The Romance of Spanish Colonial
by Robert Sweeney
Rizzoli International Publications, Inc., New York, NY; 2009
160 pages; hardcover; 150 color and b&w illustrations; $50
ISBN 978-0-8478-3327-6

Reviewed by Gordon Bock

Few historians debate whether or not the Colonial Revival is the most inventive design movement to leave its mark on America; the only issue is, which Colonial? While English colonists inoculated New England and Virginia with the Classicism of the Georgian style, it was the Spanish who spread their own earthy building traditions on the California coast and the gulf from Florida to Texas, seeding what might be called "the other Colonial style." Rediscovered and reinterpreted with a vengeance in the 1920s, the zeitgeist for Spanish-inspired architecture took on a life of its own in the building-boom states of Florida and California, producing some remarkably original and beautiful buildings. Among them was Casa del Herrero, or "the house of the blacksmith," the subject of a new book by Robert Sweeney, president of Friends of the Schindler House in Los Angeles.

Following World War I, Americans saw Spain as undiscovered cultural and architectural turf and, particularly in the aftermath of the Spanish-American War, something of a treasure trove of antiques to be plundered. More than this though, Spanish architecture offered a refreshing alternative – even antidote – to the rectilinear predictability of Georgian Classicism. This was especially true of old Spanish farmhouses, missions and other vernacular buildings that were often asymmetrical, yet carefully suited to their sites; obviously handmade, yet meticulously crafted. That was the concept anyway.

In reality, the Spanish Revival in the U.S. was closer to a freewheeling mélange of elements from any and all stuccoed and tile-roofed buildings. As Sweeney notes early on, "Spanish Colonial Revival architecture as it developed in the twentieth century was an admixture of Hispanic styles that owed as much to Mexico as to Spain." That may be putting it mildly given that, at times, there's clearly a dash of Italy and even the Arab world among the ingredients.

A near perfect trio of architect, consultant decorators and client combined to create Casa del Herrero in Montecito, CA, beginning in 1922. George Washington Smith, the architect of record, began designing houses as a second career after traveling in Spain and, in 1918, by building one of the first provincial Spanish Revival houses in nearby Santa Barbara as his own residence. Arthur Byne and his wife, Mildred Stapley, were early experts on things Spanish, and from Spain they bird-dogged the purchase of many shiploads of medieval doors, woodwork and furnishings for the house, as well as for the likes of William Randolph Hearst. But it was George Fox Steedman, the client, who had the original vision for the house and, through his unrelenting eye for detail, wielded an overarching hand in its execution and final realization.

Steedman, while not a blue blood or among the ranks of the super rich of his day, was by no means a parvenu. Educated at Harvard and an indefatigable worker – with accomplishments that Sweeney says "radiate intelligence" – Steedman made his money in munitions in St. Louis before a heart ailment led him to think about a retirement house in California. The Packard autos eventually housed at Casa del Herrero are emblematic of George Steedman, his wife and two daughters as people: upscale to the level of luxury, tasteful and in step with the times, but not avant-garde or flashy. Hence perhaps the choice of a rural tradesman's house as the model for a second home – a scale and construction that avoided ostentation but could still be a canvas for a rich texture of finishes, gardens and elegant design.

It might seem a stretch to devote an entire book to a single house – especially one that's no castle or mysterious murder site. However, through diligent research, Sweeney spins a taut but very readable line of history that draws all the various players together in how they contributed to making what is probably one of the most fully integrated and architecturally respectful Spanish Colonial Revival houses ever built. Wisely, he avoids long columns of purple prose describing the appearance of this room, that wall, or ideas that never came to be. Instead he lets readers see the beauty of the house themselves through scores of large contemporary photos and a judicious assortment of historic black-and-white photos.

By the second quarter of the book, when the house is complete as a dwelling (though unfinished as a project), George Washington Smith has exited and Sweeney's story is largely about how Steedman continues to finesse the house into the 1930s with a succession of architects and designer/advisors. The grounds, gardens and outbuildings are a particular focus. Meticulous but never meddling, the engineer in Steedman comes through in his constant attention to improvement; he even dispatches daily letters about the house while steaming to shopping trips in Spain. For a man originally not that interested in ceramics, tile became something of an obsession. As it stands today, Casa del Herrero is a kaleidoscopic showcase of tile work and tiles, both Spanish antiques and custom orders from Tunis – over 12,000 pieces of the latter alone. Indeed, just to help clean under the Packards, the garage floor is lavished with a stunning tile carpet.

Which raises the question of what, exactly, George Steedman built and why he built it. Though he incorporated huge quantities of architectural antiques picked up abroad – from ironwork to doors and furniture and tile – Casa del Herrero is no San Simeon, an otherworldly omelette of salvage whipped into a rich man's fantasy fortress. Nor is it like Virginia House, an actual medieval English priory reassembled in Richmond that, not incidentally, reinforced the owners' Anglo-Saxon roots. And it is certainly not Fallingwater, a statement house designed to put an ambitious department store magnate and an underemployed visionary architect front-and-center on the media map. Perhaps George Steedman had the answer himself when he wrote, "I don't want anything showy, but I want it good." The result, as clearly demonstrated in this book, is one of the great houses of the 20th century.  

Gordon Bock, longtime editor of Old-House Journal, is a writer, architectural historian, lecturer and consultant who comments on historic buildings at www.bocktalk.com.

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