7400 Tampa Avenue, Reseda, CA 91335 Map
Private residence - The occupants do occassionally notice admirers at the fence and invite them for a closer look.
"Background Tales" by Barbara Adams
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As resident in one of the Valley's few Historic-Cultural Landmarks, I consider myself an historian, curator, and caretaker of that little part of Valley history that is a tiny (26' x 26') house that was designed by Lloyd Wright. So many people have heard of Frank Lloyd Wright that it is almost automatic that I have to make the point that the son of that famous man drew the plans - although "senior" did play a role. |
| When Bill Adams (my father-in-law) was finally ready to construct his home, he wrote to Frank Lloyd Wright and, in effect, dared him to design an economical and practical house that he and his son could build with their own labor. Especially as Bill had read Wright's statement to the effect that every working man should have a home he has built himself. FLW's response was that he was too busy, but he had "sent some ideas and suggestions" to his son, Lloyd, who had offices in Los Angeles. Lloyd was a brilliant architect, although not as famous as his father - nor as flamboyant. Among Lloyd's Southern California credits are the first two shells of the Hollywood Bowl (aided by his studies in acoustics). His Wayfarer's Chapel in Palos Verdes is well known and much admired. That project involved Lloyd's first love - landscape architecture, and his plans included the entire setting - surrounding the all-glass structure with trees and plantings. |  |
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The winter of 1938 brought record rains and floods to Southern California and the Valley was hard-hit - that was before our flood control projects (and was one of the big reasons for them). Much of the Valley was still farm and orchard land, and it was comparatively inexpensive for housing. Bill and his wife, Bea, wisely chose January of 1939 to search for a lot, as it was easy to tell which areas had been flooded and which had not. |
| After purchasing the lot at Tampa and Valerio, the family spent some time clearing the land, and planning and dreaming. In April of '39, they moved into a tent on the rear of the half-acre and became real pioneers. Among the treasures in my "museum" is a journal that was kept by my mother-in-law, Bea Adams during the first four years of the building of their home. This document was written on any piece of paper she could find, with whatever writing instrument was handy, and it is a priceless source of information about the Valley, the beginning war years, and some (surprisingly few) stories about the family. |  |
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My husband, Bob, said later that he was probably the only graduate in the 1941 class at UCLA that did his homework by Coleman lantern. There was no electricity until the house was built and met very strict requirements. There was no heat; the base of the tent was insulated with mounds of dirt. They did have running water - an outdoor spigot, and, of course, no water heater. The slab floor was poured in July of 1939. This was one of the few jobs that needed some outside assistance - they needed the cement mixer and the man came with it. The base had first been built up with many wheelbarrows full of dirt taken from the edges of the one-lane dirt road that was Tampa Avenue. |
| The framing went up the next month. Bea's diary entry about that event was written on August 18, "Really looks good to see those pieces of the tree, which once stood so straight and towering, standing and pointing skyward again, to become shelter for us in the Valley, just as its branches sheltered living things in the forest". There are many, many stories contained in the family lore and provided by the Journal that relate the adventure of building the house. One other quote tells another tale, this one from an entry of October 14, 1943 - note Bea's use of a double negative to best express reality: "Mr. Wright was out last month to see our place, and he was not displeased with our progress on the house, and he is ordering the tule for the thatch roof covering to be made up. |
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Mr. Wright says our house is called the 'Mat House'. But I have to explain every time I say 'our mat house', as someone thinks I say 'mad house', so I usually just say 'thatch'." This was war-time, with limited gas and therefore limited truck transport available, so the delivery of the woven reeds was delayed and delayed. In the meantime, Bill and Bob had experimented with tule reeds (cat tails) by making a loom of sorts and weaving a section of what the roof would be like. Bill was very dubious about their endurance. I've always been sure that Bea also had a say about not being fond of encouraging more "critters" to house themselves in the roof. As was quite typical of him, Bill lost patience with waiting, and roofed with cedar shakes. |
Lloyd Wright was so dedicated to the mat concept, he said he would have nothing more to do with the project. At that point, he had received $50 of his $125 fee. The architect's fee was based on the anticipated cost of labor and materials: $2,500. As there was very little in the way of labor cost, the project's total was much less … keep in mind, though, that these were still "depression dollars" and the family worked hard to earn them.
In recent years, I have been lucky enough to swap tales with Eric Wright. He is the son of Lloyd, and also a recognized and admired architect. Eric had been at the construction site with his father as a youngster, but he evidently paid more attention to my husband's geology display of rocks than he did to the building. In one of my conversations with Eric, he made a statement that his father was "the most stubborn man in the world". At that, I just shook my head - "nope, Bill Adams deserved that title". Eric and I had a laugh when trying to picture his very tall father, and a just-over-five-foot "banty rooster" going figuratively nose-to-nose for over four years, before the final falling out.
One of the difficulties was no doubt multiplied since neither of the Wrights, father or son, was in the habit of working with an owner-builder. They would design, and then supervise the construction with the prospective builder kept far in the background. In the case of the house on Tampa, Bill and Bea and Bob were not only doing the building, but they were living in it as they went - which led to some logical changes that were not necessarily architect-approved. The roof material was not the first dispute - it was the last. When Lloyd Wright washed his hands of the "Mat House", he left it in his records only as an unfinished project, i.e., not built.
In 1986, Bill and Bea Adams were 91 and 89 years old. They felt they could no longer care for house and yard and asked my husband and myself to move in, while they went to a retirement facility. As the old folks had rather kept to themselves, Bob and I found that many neighbors had questions about this unusual home. He often said that he was going to design a plaque to put on the fence, both as a memorial to his parents and to inform the curious. That didn't happen. Thus, when Bob passed away in 1995, it became my responsibility to preserve the memory of the three of them. By going through the Los Angeles Cultural Heritage Commission and receiving their landmark designation (No. 629), I was able to have the existence of the house entered into a repository that is available to architecture historians and students. Now they know that it was not "unfinished", as it had been listed in the records, but it does really exist. A plaque for the fence was provided, and the publicity involved with having the only L.A. Landmark in Reseda has brought many interested - and interesting - people to my door.
There are many features of the house that are better seen than described. The influence of a bottle of vodka on the building of the fireplace can be noted. And in order to appreciate one important feature, it must be experienced. The house is situated at a 45-degree angle to the north-south line, and it is difficult to explain what an atmosphere that creates. The home was well planned to be efficient in taking advantage of sunshine in the winter and shading from the almost-desert sun of the Valley in the summer. The passing of the seasons from equinox to solstice is well observed with the windows aligned in this manner.
The little house has survived without much change, but as a witness to many surrounding changes. The "one lane of dirt" previously mentioned is now a six-lane Tampa Avenue. There have been repairs and up-dates, but a serious effort has made to keep these in the spirit of the original. No changes have been made at all to the basic floor plan. The residents have changed, but their shelter has not.
