Tag Archives: Paul Rudolph

Paul Rudolph’s Sarasota High School

The Paul Rudolph-designed classroom addition with breezeway at Sarasota High School.

Too often preservationists become so enamored by a building’s architect, they overlook its shortcomings. I fear this is occurring with the two Sarasota High School buildings designed by Modernist architect Paul Rudolph.

Sarasota High’s trademark breezeway.

Early this month, the Sarasota County School District revealed its plans for the two Rudolph-designed buildings on the SHS campus, and preservationists are not happy. The gym is too small, district officials say, and must be torn down. They don’t want to demolish the classroom building addition, but they do want to gut its rooms and enclose its two-story breezeway and use it as a media center.

Second floor classrooms.

The school district employees seeking the renovations at Sarasota High are the same who successfully pushed for the demolition of a deteriorated Riverview High School, another Rudolph project, in 2009. That preservation effort drew international attention as advocates futilely sought to raise money and gain support to rehabilitate the Rudolph buildings and leave enough room on the school’s cramped property for a new campus.

As I wrote about in my thesis, preservationists in the Riverview case invoked Rudolph so often, they turned off many citizens who couldn’t have cared less about the designer–they just wanted a functioning school at a reasonable price. By the time they developed a plan to rehabilitate the buildings, they were too far behind to stop the momentum.

As the following period journal articles attest, Sarasota High School received a lot of attention from the architectural press and marked a turning point in Rudolph’s career.

“Progressive Architecture” May 1960


“Architectural Forum” May 1959

“AIA Journal” May 1962

“Architectural Forum” May 1960

Rudolph’s work at SHS received a different reaction from people who actually utilized it. Opened in 1960 on the heels of Riverview High School, the buildings were considered too progressive for Sarasotans and signaled the downfall of the Sarasota School of Architecture. Their steep price didn’t make the endeavors more digestible, nor did the the structural problems that arose shortly into the SHS classroom building’s tenure.

Then there was the structures’ lack of functionality. I attended Sarasota High and don’t remember the Rudolph-designed classroom building fondly. All concrete, it had slightly more charm than a parking garage, and sound seeped into classrooms from the hallway and neighboring rooms. And I never understood the reason for the breezeway’s roof cutout, which allowed rain to pour into an otherwise sheltered space. The large breezeway also makes it difficult to control access in and out of the school–not ideal in a post-Columbine world.

On March 14, I went to the Sarasota Architectural Foundation’s discussion “Sarasota High School: Paul Rudolph’s Legacy” at the Ringling College of Art and Design. With few exceptions, the event was attended by the foremost proponents of Sarasota School of Architecture preservation. Surprisingly, some of the school district’s facilities management personnel were seated near the front, a good sign that they were open to the preservationists’ ideas.

But I don’t think what they heard will change their minds. Instead of making a case for preservation to which everyone could relate, a majority of the panelists summoned Rudolph’s legacy. This may have played well to the–mostly–partisan audience, but I guarantee the facilities management people didn’t care. They think in terms of square footage and financial feasibility, not paying homage to dead architects. Same with the taxpayers and the SHS students and teachers who actually use the spaces.

But that’s not to say the Rudolph buildings at SHS should be demolished or drastically altered. For the Rudolph buildings to survive, they must be changed. No matter who designed them, they just don’t function well, and, it could be argued, they never did. No one may end up completely happy, but there are potential adaptive reuses that could appease preservationists, district officials, and the school’s students and staff. Perhaps the classroom addition could be a component of the nearby original Sarasota High School building, which is being rehabilitated into an art museum. One panelist at the SAF event, architect Joyce Owens, suggested the gym become the media center rather than enclose the breezeway. The school district doesn’t want that to happen for reasons unknown, but those are the kinds of ideas preservationists should rally behind.

Simply saying no to everything leads preservationists nowhere, but a reasonable plan that fits within its budget will be difficult for the school district to ignore.

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Filed under Paul Rudolph, Sarasota, Sarasota School of Architecture

Revere Quality House

The Revere Quality House should be in a landfill right. When its former owners sought to sell in 2003, the house’s age, condition, lack of value, location, lack of square footage, and the size of the land it sat on all pointed toward demolition. Fortunately, the Revere Quality House was not torn down. Instead, it was beautifully restored, and a larger residence with a similar design and material makeup was constructed next to it.

The Revere Quality House, built in 1948 on Siesta Key, was designed by Paul Rudolph and Ralph Twitchell–the fathers of the Sarasota School of Architecture. The house was a product of the Revere Quality House Institute, a housebuilding program sponsored by the Revere Copper and Brass Inc. and Architectural Forum magazine. The program’s goal was to showcase innovative yet affordable housing to meet the needs of postwar America, and eight houses were built throughout the country.

The Revere Quality House certainly met the program’s goals. The about 1,ooo-square-foot house was built by Lamolithic Industries and utilized their state-of-the-art monolithic concrete construction system said to be resistant to mildew, bugs, fire, and hurricanes. The concrete roof had a passive-cooling sprinkler system and was held up by a series of evenly placed lally columns. This roof structural system allowed for unlimited interior space configurations and walls of glass. The rectangular house had a carport, patio with roof cut out, a living room, dining room, kitchen, two bedrooms, and laundry room that was set off from the house. Architectural features included a copper stove hood and fireplace made by (who else) Revere Copper.

Photographed by Ezra Stoller. Courtesy ArtStor.

Photographed by Ezra Stoller. Courtesy ArtStor.

Photographed by Ezra Stoller. Courtesy ArtStor.

Photographed by Ezra Stoller. Courtesy ArtStor.

Photographed by Ezra Stoller. Courtesy ArtStor.

As I wrote about in my thesis, the house was quite the sensation after it was built as an estimated 16,000 people toured it. Furthermore, it was published in architectural periodicals throughout the world and brought much attention to Rudolph and Twitchell’s subtropical take on the International Style.

Architectural Forum October 1948

Architectural Review June 1949

House and Garden August 1949

The house was designed for Roberta Finney, and Twitchell liked his client so much he left his family and took up residence with her. (The Cocoon House was designed a few years later for her parents.) To meet the Twitchell/Finney family’s needs, the patio and carport were enclosed and a carport/guest house was built on the property. Roberta Finney died in 1966, and Twitchell remarried a third time and remained in the house until he died in 1978. His family continued to live there after his death.

Siesta Key in 2003 was hardly recognizable from Siesta Key in 1948. By that time, the island’s population had swelled, and a majority of the original houses on the island had been razed in favor of condos and monster Mediterranean Revival (Revival) mansions. Land values and property taxes soared, which forced many longtime Siesta Key residents to sell to developers. Twitchell’s descendants found themselves in just such a predicament. They had a crumbling, 53-year-old house on nearly an acre of land–huge for the north end of Siesta Key–with boat access to the Gulf of Mexico, just a couple hundred feet away. In other words, it was a developer’s dream.

But that’s when Doug Olson stepped up. He already lived in a Sarasota School house, so he recognized the Revere Quality House’s importance when he bought it from Twitchell’s descendants in 2003. His goal was to restore the house and construct an addition, but Olson realized he could not undertake the project alone and teamed up with–ironically–a developer, Howard Rooks.

Rooks asked Sarasota-based Modernist architect Guy Peterson for his opinion on the property, and Peterson came up with the plan to both restore the tiny Revere Quality House and build a new residence on the property. Peterson drew up plans for a 4,712-square-foot, three-story house that paid homage to the Revere Quality House with its design, colors, and materials. Then the Revere Quality House was restored nearly to its 1948 appearance, down to the paint colors. Furthermore, a pool was dug behind the historic dwelling so it could serve as a guest house/pool house for the new, much larger and taller main residence.

The restored Revere Quality House, right, and the new main residence. Courtesy of Guy Peterson OFA.

See more photos of the project here.

In April 2007, the completed project was on the market for $4,875,000, but Sarasota was so slammed by the real estate crash that it sat for more than four years. According to the Sarasota County Property Appraiser, the house finally sold for $2.1 million on August 31, 2011.

From a preservation point of view, I consider the Revere Quality House project to be a success overall. The building rests on a highly desirable land and it could have very easily been razed like so many other Sarasota School houses in favor of a soulless mega-mansion. Instead, the Revere was meticulously restored and a fairly compatible new primary residence was built next to it.

But from a financial point of view, the project was a failure. The developers of the project lost millions, and others will be wary of undertaking similar projects in the future. At least the Revere Quality House still stands as a reminder that even experimental modern buildings can be adapted to new uses as long as sympathetic people are involved. If only the numbers added up.

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Filed under Florida, historic preservation, Mid-Century Modern, Paul Rudolph, Sarasota, Sarasota School of Architecture

Cocoon House


The sun, clouds, sand, glass-smooth water, row boat, wood deck, cushion, oranges, sandals, and a book. This photo perfectly captures the indoor/outdoor lifestyle espoused by modern residential architects.  And, oh yeah, about that building to the right: it’s the Healy Guest House — more commonly known as the Cocoon House — on Siesta Key in Sarasota, Florida.

The above image was shot by famed Modernist photographer Ezra Stoller during one of his visits to Sarasota to see the latest works by members of the Sarasota School of Architecture. Here it is in color.

The Cocoon House was one of architect Paul Rudolph’s most radical designs and ranks among Philip Johnson’s Glass House, Mies van der Rohe’s Farnsworth House, and the Charles and Ray Eames House as one of the great mid-century modern residences.

The two-bedroom building was constructed in 1951 as a guest house for the in-laws of Ralph Twitchell, Rudolph’s partner at the time,  and was notable for its catenary, plastic spray-on roof. The roofing material, named Cocoon, was the same used by the military to store ships. Rudolph discovered Cocoon when he was serving in the Navy during World World II. Ships also inspired the Cocoon House’s interior layout. At only 800 square feet, its space was used efficiently and included two bedrooms, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a living room.

Resting on a narrow strip of sand, the house features floor-to-ceiling jalousie windows on two sides in order to catch the breezes off the nearby Gulf of Mexico and Sarasota Bay. The other two ends were fixed glass walls. It is raised above the ground and cantilevered over Bayou Louise, a man-made inlet on the north end of Siesta Key.

Catenary roof construction. Photographer Joseph Steinmetz. State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory, http://floridamemory.com/items/show/252487

Photographer Joseph Steinmetz. State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory, http://floridamemory.com/items/show/252479

Twitchell on site. Photographer Joseph Steinmetz. State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory, http://floridamemory.com/items/show/252498

Taking shape. Photographer Joseph Steinmetz. State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory, http://floridamemory.com/items/show/252497

Spray-on roof. Photographer Joseph Steinmetz. State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory, http://floridamemory.com/items/show/252489

Roof layering. Photographer Joseph Steinmetz. State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory, http://floridamemory.com/items/show/252482

Photographer Joseph Steinmetz. State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory, http://floridamemory.com/items/show/252486

Photographer Joseph Steinmetz. State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory, http://floridamemory.com/items/show/252485

Below are Stoller photos of the finished Cocoon House.

Please note: All the above photos were taken from ARTstor, not Esto.

The house was widely published in architectural journals and home magazines.

Florida Architect April 1958

Interiors June 1951

Interiors June 1951

Interiors June 1951

Interiors June 1951

House Beautiful July 1952

House Beautiful July 1952

Architectural Forum June 1951

Architectural Forum June 1951

Architectural Forum June 1951

Time was not kind to the Cocoon House, and the building’s roof leaked from the start–much like the designs of Rudolph’s idol Frank Lloyd Wright. Rudolph even called the design a mistake. By the 1980s, its interior was rotting and demolition seemed the logical choice. But instead the owners of the Cocoon House had the house locally designated. This allowed them to bypass FEMA requirements, which were put into place since the house was built. (Apparently building flimsy, experimental glass-walled houses steps from a hurricane-prone large body of water isn’t a good idea.) The Cocoon House was restored in 1990, when a more practical roof was added. It was available to rent for just $1,250 a month about two years ago — a very reasonable price for an icon of modern architecture.

Here’s how it looked on January 8, 2011.

And here’s a photo from June 2009. It should return to its original colors instead of that gray.

The perfect place to be on a sunny, winter day.

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Filed under Paul Rudolph, Sarasota, Sarasota School of Architecture