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.

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.

Sarasota School of Architecture Thesis

For my last entry of 2010, I think it’s only fitting I write about my most noteworthy historic preservation accomplishment this year: my thesis on the preservation of Sarasota School of Architecture buildings.

The SSOA was a group of similarly minded architects who originated in Sarasota, Florida, during the middle of the twentieth century. They designed in the modern style, and many of their works are on par with those being designed simultaneously in Los Angeles, Palm Springs, Miami, and New Canaan. The movement waned in the 1960s and 1970s, and many SSOA buildings have been torn down. In the past couple decades, a preservation movement has sprung up to bring attention to these masterworks, but it’s struggling to gain hold in the community.

I began research in fall 2009, but I did not really start my interviews and writing into January 2010. Despite a few bumps along the way, I successfully defended it to my committee and turned it in the University of Florida graduate office by the end of April.  At 175 pages (including 40 photos) with about 200 sources, it was a great deal of work and I have the upmost respect for nonfiction writers.

Here’s the PDF.

Here’s the abstract:

For the past few decades, there has been a movement in Sarasota, Florida, to preserve its mid-century modern buildings. Known as the Sarasota School of Architecture, the development of this regional form of Modernism occurred as the small city was solidifying its reputation as a cultural capital after World War II. Members of the arts community included Sarasota School architects, who adapted modern architecture to the Florida Gulf Coast climate and environment by using native materials and climate-controlling design features. Their buildings received international praise and brought attention to the area, but the architects’ works never were fully embraced in Sarasota. In the early 1960s, the city experienced political, economic, and cultural changes, and by the middle of the decade many top architects had departed. Over the years, high land values, changing architectural trends, and lack of public awareness — among other reasons — have led to the destruction of many Sarasota School structures. The 1995 release of The Sarasota School of Architecture, 1941-1966 by John Howey helped revive interest, and some buildings have been saved as a result. These preservation efforts have paralleled those in other communities with strong postwar Modernist legacies such as Los Angeles and Palm Springs, California; New Canaan, Connecticut; and Miami, Florida. However, Sarasota continues to lose some of its best examples, as evidenced by the demolition of Riverview High School (1958) in 2009 after a high-profile preservation campaign. By utilizing books, articles, letters, Web sites, and interviews, this thesis is among the first studies of Sarasota School preservation efforts. Case study analysis on Riverview High School and two buildings that have been saved — Revere Quality House (1948) and Nokomis Beach Plaza (1956) — revealed the common factors of land, location, economics, decision-making process, perceived obsolescence, and public education and awareness. It is hoped the lessons learned from these three sites can be helpful in future mid-century modern preservation efforts in Sarasota and elsewhere.

Lido Shores

The Sarasota School of Architecture is a name given to a group of architects who adapted the International Style to Florida’s subtropical climate. From the 1940s through the 1960s hundreds of houses, schools, beach pavilions, offices, government buildings, and businesses were designed by Sarasota School architects.

Most of the Sarasota School houses were built on barrier islands near the Gulf of Mexico such Longboat, Lido, Bird, St. Armand’s, Siesta, and Casey keys. Today, the land the houses sit on costs many times more than the structures themselves, so demolition is almost certain when these properties go on the market. Exhibit A. Exhibit B.

But it’s not all doom and gloom for Modernism in Sarasota. Lido Shores is a small neighborhood on the Gulf of Mexico. It’s located on Lido Key just north of St. Armand’s Circle and just south of the bridge that connects Lido and Longboat keys.

The neighborhood of about 100 homes was developed in 1950 by Philip Hiss, an adventurer, anthropologist, writer, photographer, architect, a developer, and school board chairman. When Hiss planned Lido Shores, he wanted his neighborhood to showcase the works of the Sarasota School architects, who were attracting international attention at the time. House and Home magazine profiled the neighborhood in its July 1954 issue:

Before visiting in November 2009, I had read about Lido Shores’ exorbitant land values and expected the worst. My first impression: Where’s the water? The mega mansions along the waterfront both physically and visually block the waterfront. But it’s a different story on the interior lots, where a number of original houses still stand relatively untouched. Also, many newer houses have kept Lido Shores’ Modernism spirit alive, though they are of a much larger size than the originals.

Please note: Much of the following information was taken from the excellent “Tour Sarasota Architecture,” a 2009 guide put out by the Sarasota Convention and Visitors Bureau. It was created by the county, Sarasota Architectural Foundation, and Ringling School of Art and Design.

The Umbrella House (1953) designed by Paul Rudolph is the most famous house in the neighborhood, and possibly the most famous Sarasota School of Architecture building. It got its name from the slats roof, or “umbrella,” that covered the house and pool. It blew off in a storm decades ago, but the owners are reconstructing it in phases. The house has been meticulously restored and includes period furnishings. It is shown here in 2009, pre-umbrella restoration.

Here it is shortly after construction. Courtesy of Paul Rudolph Foundation.

Here is it in early 2011 during the umbrella restoration.

Next door to the Umbrella House is the Hiss Studio (1953) designed by Tim Seibert. It was built to house Phillip Hiss’ books and was one of the first air-conditioned buildings in Sarasota. Now it’s a residence.

Across the street from the studio on the water stood the Philip Hiss Home, but it was knocked down to make way for this. It sold for $7.4 million in summer 2009.

Here’s what used to stand there, the Philip Hiss House (1950). Courtesy of Florida Photographic Collection.

Typical 2000s Florida waterfront home. I don’t think Hiss had this in mind for Lido Shores.

The William Ingler House (1952) was one of the first houses in Lido Shores.

Typical postwar Florida house: flat roof, one-story, light color, carport, thin columns, clerestory windows.

Unfortunately, many of the houses in Lido Shores–both young and old–have been walled off from the street.

The William Rupp-designed Mrs. Gloria Kirsch House (1957) was renovated in 2007 by the firm of Sarasota School architect Tim Seibert.

The Mrs. Adelia Dolan House (1959).

This futuristic mansion was designed by Carl Abbott, a third generation Sarasota School of Architecture architect.

The Joseph Gould House (1955) was remodeled in 1994, at which time the colorful walls were added.

The Harkavy House (1957) is another Rudolph design. It has been added to over the years, but the design intent has remained. As of October 2011, it’s for sale.

Old modern, new modern.

The addition to the Devries-Craig Residence was done by Guy Peterson.

The Don Chappell House (2000).

The Putterman Residence (1986), another Abbott project. In contrast, the opposite side is a wall of windows that overlook the water.

Hugh Given House (1951).

Williams House (2001) designed by Guy Peterson.

Empty lots are common in Lido Shores. I wonder which Hiss Associates house was here.