Perspectives On Antiques - 61

By David Rudd

Q: Enclosed are pictures of a desk I purchased 37 years ago. I am interested in any information you can give me regarding its authenticity as a Stickley Bros. product.

Cecilia Ramos

You are to be commended for your foresight. You purchased this desk a year before Robert Judson Clark mounted the seminal 1972 exhibition “The Arts and Crafts Movement in America 1876–1916” at the Princeton University Art Museum. This exhibit brought to light the importance of the American Arts and Crafts period. Many major collections were started about this time.

Your good-looking drop-front desk was not produced by Albert and Charles Stickley’s Stickley Bros. Co., of Grand Rapids, Mich., but by two other Stickley brothers, Leopold and John George. All four, along with the oldest brother,
Gustav, were manufacturers of furniture in the Arts and Crafts or Craftsman style.

Their chronology was as follows;

  • 1888–Stickley & Simonds Co. formed by Gustav and Elgin Simonds in Binghamton, N.Y.
  • 1891–Stickley Bros. Co. Grand Rapids founded by George and Albert
  • 1898–Stickley & Simonds (now in Syracuse) dissolved, and Gustav Stickley Co. founded by Gustav
  • 1900–L. & J.G. Stickley Co. founded by Leopold and John George in Fayetteville, N.Y.

L. & J.G. Stickley may be considered the most successful of the brothers’ companies. It was able to stay in business under its original ownership for three-quarters of a century, adapting to changing design trends, before it was bought by Alfred and Aminy Audi in 1974. In 1989 the Audis, seeing the revival of interest in the Arts and Crafts style, decided to reproduce the earlier designs. The company thrives today as a true American success story.
The “Handcraft Mark” on the inside of the drawer of your desk tells us the piece was produced between 1907 and 1912. The condition appears to be original and exceptional.

Q: I was recently working on an interesting desk with a copper and pewter inlay on both sides. It looks a bit “Glasgow” in design. There are no shop marks, and I had hoped you might have an idea as to who may have made it.
Richard Forrest

You are correct in saying “It looks a bit ‘Glasgow’ in design.” The slight proportions, slender vertical lines and use of copper and pewter inlays are indicative of a Grand Rapids company by the name of Luce Furniture Co.

The American Arts and Crafts movement was very much influenced by the design trends of Europe, and especially those of Scottish and English designers of the time. And as in Europe, the use of metal inlays was not uncommon in this country. Harvey Ellis included inlays of dark wood, copper and pewter in many of his designs for Gustav Stickley. In the Grand Rapids area, both the Stickley Brothers Co. and the Charles P. Limbert Co. produced furniture with metal inlay.

Here I will quote a friend, Don Marek, who wrote in his introduction to his book Arts and Crafts Furniture Design – The Grand Rapids Contribution 1895-1915: “Its main principles were: the primacy of function in determining the design of an object; restrained use of ornamentation, always related to the whole; and proper respect for the nature of the materials used.” I believe this helps explain the rationale of decorated furniture produced in the Arts and Crafts style.

The Luce Furniture Co. began under the name of the McCord & Bradford Furniture Co. in 1878, changing its name sometime around 1880. Luce was known primarily as a producer of moderately priced bedroom and dining-room furniture. Your table may have been from a bedroom suite. A call to the Grand Rapids Public Museum (grmuseum.org, 616 456-3977) may be enlightening. They have a couple of pieces of Luce Furniture in their collection that are very reminiscent of your table, and they may be happy to share images with you.

Q: Recently, I came across this slant-front secretary. It looks interesting, but I have never seen anything like it, so it’s hard to know what to make of it. The cutouts on the side and the through tenons on the desktop and the bottom and top shelves remind me of Limbert, but the drawer pulls and strap hinges don’t look like Limbert or anyone else I am familiar with. Any thoughts on who may have produced this piece?

Nathan Williams

Congratulations on finding a very nice example of an early “Quaint Furniture” drop-front desk produced by George and Albert Stickley’s Stickley Bros. Company in Grand Rapids, Mich. (See the catalog drawing for No. 6514 from Quaint Furniture, published by Turn of the Century Editions.) Unlike pieces produced by the other Stickley brothers, this line of furniture was more reminiscent of what was being produced in England, with some pieces directly influenced by English designs.

According to Michael Clark and Jill Thomas-Clark in their book The Stickley Brothers, Albert Stickley established a warehouse and began factory and marketing operations in London by 1896, so he was certainly aware of the designs that were being produced there.

What I find most striking about your desk is the hardware, which shows real attention to detail. The placement of the nail heads, especially, was nicely thought out, adding to the beauty of the piece. The hardware of your desk differs from that illustrated in the catalog. Although that would not be unusual, this may have been a custom design for a particular buyer, perhaps outsourced from a London designer.

Bethlehem, N.H., Len and Joan Reed

The Abbott Cottage was built in 1918, with no expense spared, as a wedding present for Woolworth heiress Florence Ivie when she married Karl Abbott, a local boy who went on to success as a hotelier. We have lived in this beauty for 30 years and hope to downsize after four children and nine grandchildren have enjoyed it. It is a Registered Bungalow. We wonder whether there is another this far north in New England.

Clearwater, Fla., Brian and Juli Halifax

We purchased this 1920 bungalow from the granddaughter of the original owner, Ross Norton. The home is terracotta block with a stucco exterior. The floors are original heart pine, some boards spanning up to 20 feet. The windows and doors are also original. So far, we have restored one downstairs bathroom, installing a refurbished claw tub from 1926 and a newer pedestal sink with matching toilet.

Long Beach, N.J., Mike Bilby

The Lucky Penny House sits 200 feet from the beach on an island off the coast of southern New Jersey. It was built circa 1906 from longleaf yellow pine and cedar. The kitchen has a potbellied iron stove, and a hatch in the floor opens to what was once the root cellar before storm surges filled it with fine white sand. The varnished pine wainscoting glows when a fire is going in the brick fireplace in the living room. We relax in the swing on the broad front porch and greet our neighbors as they return from the surf. Paradise!

Purcellville, Va., Anastasia Sowers and Jeff Charron

Our house was originally an old sharecropper’s home. When we bought it, it had one bathroom, about 850 square feet, and a dirt-floor basement that was home to a few blacksnakes in the wintertime. In remodeling it to give it a Craftsman/cottage-style look we installed a pitched roof, bumped out the front porch, added corbels and had a stonemason construct pillars. We’re now remodeling the kitchen in Craftsman style with a modern touch.

Milwaukee, Wis., Carol and Tim Buczak

Our “Milwaukee” bungalow was built in 1928. A year later, at a cost of $1,500, it was expanded and converted into a duplex. When we bought it in 2001, the original light sconces, one bathroom floor, and the stained-glass foyer window, piano windows and doors on each side of the downstairs fireplace were all intact. Since then, we have been getting rid of the 1960s–70s “updates” and turning back the hands of time. The best thing we did was remove the wide white metal siding and restore the original clapboards underneath.

Skokie, Ill., Mark Penning and Katie Hollenberg

We are only the second family to live in this 1925 “square-bay” Chicago bungalow. We bought it from the daughters of Fred and Emma Fullhard, who built it when this part of Chicagoland was nothing but open farmland. Mr. Fullhard used face brick on the entire house—unusual because most Chicago bungalows have common brick on the sides and back. The original stained-glass windows with a Prairie tulip motif are intact, as are the built-in bookcases and the original oak crown moldings, trim and baseboards.

Milford, Conn., Edgar Brannon
Our home, affectionately known as the Nutmeg House, is in Milford’s Historic District. Built in 1930 by a local builder using a typical plan for an American foursquare, the house had many lives before we bought it in 2000, when it had been completely re-sided with vinyl and many of the original trim details had been removed. We set out to painstakingly restore it to its early condition. We also added period awnings and spruced it up with new stone steps to match the existing porch piers.

Pleasant Garden, N.C., Charles and Martha Kirkman
We moved into this bungalow, built on a Piedmont tobacco farm in 1931 by Charles’s father, in 2006, after completing a comprehensive restoration and an expansion of living space at the rear. We are the third generation of the family to own the farm. The restoration, done by a local company and master carpenter, retained the character of the house inside and out, thanks to help from articles in American Bungalow. This has become the perfect place for our family heirlooms and our collection of antiques.

Table of Contents

Number 61
Spring 2009

BUNGALOW FEATURES

HISTORIC BUNGALOW NEIGHBORHOODS

History In Place
by Kathy L Morgan
In Wichita, the undiminished appeal of 100-year-old bungalow neighborhoods is testament to their developers’ far-sighted visions.

HISTORIC HOMES

Marvelous Possessions
by John Luke
A 1924 Craftsman “mini-mansion” houses an eclectic collection of period furnishings and folk art.

A Woodsy Neighbor In The City
By Nan K Chase
A compact bungalow in an old Asheville neighborhood makes arresting use of a rediscovered building material.

Learning from Greene & Greene
By Jane Powell
From a new “ultimate bungalow,” the preservationist draws lessons with universal application

Divided Light: Why Preserve Bungalow Windows?
By John Ribovich
An old bungalow’s windows are its eyes and ears. Sensible preservation and careful restoration can extend their lives.

DEPARTMENTS AND CRAFTSMAN RESOURCES

A Letter from the Publisher

Open House: Letters to the Editor
Was it the Devil at my door? And about
those mugs ….

Family Album
From coast to coast, readers share their
bungalow restoration and preservation
achievements.

Antiques

Perspective on Antiques
with David Rudd
Our consultant responds to readers’
questions on vintage furnishings.

New & Noteworthy

A selection of Arts and Crafts–inspired
amenities for contemporary living.

Arts & Crafts Profile

Weaving the Past for the Present
By John Luke
Paul Freeman is “The Textile Guy” and
has the goods to prove it.

BOOKS
The Hoosier Cabinet in Kitchen History
By Nancy R. Hiller
Review by John Luke

American Bungalow News
A busy summer tour season ahead. But first,
historic preservation and the Stimulus Plan,
and Robert Winter gets his due … again.

From Our Friends

Kilmore, Victoria, Australia:
By Steve Ansell
In a time of extremity, a magazine’s arrival affirms life.

Directory of Advertisers

The Bungalow Bookstore
Your reliable resource for Arts and Crafts
history, design and restoration.

The restoration of an iconic historic bridge in Wichita, Kansas, is a reminder that the city’s old bungalow neighborhoods remain vibrant elements of one of America’s most livable cities.
by Kathy L Morgan

Most of us conduct our day-to-day lives without giving much thought to the origins of the places we inhabit. Life is too full of activity and obligation for us to stop and question how the town or city we live in today was created out of nothing—or at least nothing we would find familiar—so many years ago.

Once in a while, though, some seeminglyordinary civic undertaking, because it involves an old structure or a notable historical event, catches a community’s attention, then itsimagination—and a glimmer of the past comes into view.

Something like that happened in Wichita in October, 2007. That month, work began on the long-planned renovation of the historic Minisa Bridge, an ornamental 250-foot span built in 1932 to connect the central business district with the tree-shaded parks and bungalow neighborhoods that had been developed over the previous two decades between the diminutive Little Arkansas River and its bigger sister, the Arkansas, or “Big Arkansas,” a couple of miles or so farther west. (Pronunciation note: in Kansas, the rivers’ names sound like the state’s: ar-KANS-as.)

Over the next three-quarters of a century, Minisa Bridge became a totem for the Riverside and North Riverside bungalow neighborhoods, both to their residents and to commuters passing through to and from later and larger residential developments farther west. Its renovation became an occasion for the residents to renew their connections with a relatively recent past that some of them could even remember, and also to the middle and later years of the 19th century, when Wichita arose on the Kansas prairie.

Defining Visions

As a professional historic preservation planner for more than 30 years, and in Wichita for the last 10, it has been a big part of my job to think about the origins of places, especially American ones, and about the people who made them what they are.
I have lived in several American cities during my career, and although the specifics of history, geography and climate have differed for each one, there has always been one underlying theme defining their formation and growth: the vision and determination on the part of civic founders to create legacies—and, of course, this being America, build fortunes in the process. The buildings they raised—large and small, public and private, residential and commercial—were the working out of these visions even as they became the infrastructure of the lives we live, in and around them, today.

Located at the confluence of the Big and Little Arkansas Rivers in south-central Kansas, Wichita had been a trading center and meeting place for nomadic hunting peoples for at least 11,000 years when Spanish explorers and missionaries arrived in the area in 1541. Over the succeeding century and a half, Spanish then French explorers and trappers moved into the territory, coexisting as traders with the native peoples.

By the turn of the 19th century, what is today Kansas was part of the French Louisiane territory that the U.S., under President Thomas Jefferson, purchased from France in 1803. The Louisiana Purchase prompted Jefferson to commission the Lewis and Clark expedition, which accelerated the westward expansion of the North American frontier that had begun in earnest soon after the Revolutionary War.

The trickle of American settlers that had begun moving into the Kansas and Oklahoma territories to establish farmlands in the middle 1800s became a torrent in 1862, when the Homestead Act opened the Prairie West to rapid settlement. After the indigenous Wichita people were removed to Indian Territory in 1867, the visionaries went to work.

Among the men who set down roots and started businesses along the Arkansas River were James R. Mead, Jesse Chisholm, William Greiffenstein and Darius Munger—men who had built lucrative trading enterprises with the Wichita and other tribes. By the time white settlers began pouring into the area, Mead, Chisholm, Greiffenstein and Munger had the economic capital to shape the development of the fledgling city and led the campaign to incorporate in 1870.

The railroad arrived two years later, making Wichita the destination for Texas cattle being driven north along the Chisholm Trail for shipment by rail to eastern markets. Soon Kansas wheat was being shipped along with the cattle, and by 1900 three major rail lines passed through the city.

The Bungalow Era
Alton Smith, a 26-year-old Ohio residential-development entrepreneur looking for opportunities in the growing cities of the western states, arrived in Wichita in the mid-1890s.

After marrying a daughter of the city’s co-founder, he moved on to the West Coast before returning to Wichita in 1908 to establish the California Bungalow Company. It isn’t known whether Smith was the first builder-developer to introduce the bungalow to Wichita, but his name was certainly one of those most prominently associated with the development of the city’s upscale bungalow neighborhoods.

During his early years, Smith concentrated his efforts in the Riverside neighborhood, leading the development of that rich enclave of bungalows before and after the first World War. He also was building in the College Hill neighborhood east of downtown, which remains a prime upscale community to this day.

As it did all over the nation, the postwar real-estate boom of the 1920s spurred the growth of single-family housing in Wichita during the era in which the bungalow became the de facto “American home.” Street after street in all of Wichita’s new neighborhoods filled up with pattern-book Craftsman-style houses averaging five or six rooms. The clapboard-sided and brick-veneered houses varied in their interpretation of piers and porch trim, but their developers maintained similar setback, height, size and spatial relationships, establishing a continuity that came to be associated with comfortable, family-friendly environments.

Although the Great Depression of the 1930s ended the boom, Alton Smith remained a real-estate developer of consequence in Wichita until his death in 1940, and the Craftsman-style bungalow became an established and enduring residential feature of the city.

Enduring Value of Place

Today, bungalows in a variety of styles still fill most of Wichita’s early-20th-century neighborhoods, thanks largely to the endurance of their appeal to home-owning families looking for livable, affordable homes in pleasant neighborhoods near public transportation. The teardown phenomenon that has disfigured older residential areas in many American cities and towns has not come to Wichita. Even in the past two years, when home prices and sales plummeted elsewhere in the nation, the value of existing Wichita homes held steady, and the inventory of homes for sale remained low.

It is significant that these neighborhoods have remained not only viable but desirable on their innate merits, without needing official preservation declarations or other protection. In large part, that may be ascribed to the spirit of Wichita as a place, which may also account for its appearance on several lists of “most livable” U.S. cities in recent years.

Still, a vibrant and long-standing spirit of preservation has also contributed to the enduring appeal of Wichita’s residential neighborhoods. The city’s first documented preservation effort was directed at the Darius Munger House, built in 1869 and considered by most scholars to be the city’s first residence. (See photo, page 32.) In 1943, when it was threatened with demolition, the Eunice Sterling Chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution purchased it with the intent to restore it.

In 1950, Historic Wichita, Inc., was chartered for the sole purpose of restoring and preserving early city landmarks. The group was able to get a 99-year lease on 25 acres of land, and after the Munger House was deeded to the group by the DAR, it was one of five buildings moved to the site, dubbed “Cowtown,” in 1952. Over the years, additional structures were saved from demolition and relocated to what is now the Old Cowtown Museum.

Historic Wichita changed over the years as its members realized that not just individual landmarks but portions of many neighborhoods needed protection. After much research by board members and with assistance from the National Trust for Historic Preservation, Historic Wichita drafted a preservation ordinance that was approved in April 1975.

In 1978, three historic bungalow-rich districts were established in the Riverside and Midtown neighborhoods. Since then, the city has established eight National Register Historic Districts with more than 450 buildings, including 90 individually listed in the Kansas and National Registers and 23 listed locally. In addition, some 10,000 residential and commercial structures have been surveyed.

Over the past three years, the Wichita Office of Historic Preservation has compiled data on hundreds of bungalows and amassed a wealth of information on the contractors, architects and developers who, more than 80 years ago, were going about the business of providing homes for the families of Wichita—homes that continue to shape our daily existence because they are the places where we live.