Now it’s almost 50 years later. L.A. has become a maelstrom of crazed drivers, emergency sirens, and bad attitude,
and I’ve come to appreciate Pasadena. Spreading oak trees shade its wide streets. Whole neighborhoods are outdoor
museums, permanent collections of houses designed by the great Southern California architects. Not long ago, in fact, I
happened upon an entire street lined with arts and crafts bungalows by the legendary Greene and Greene.
Pasadena owes its comfy but polished personality to “location, location, location.” The city lies tucked against the San
Gabriel Mountains and perched above an oak-studded arroyo. Early in the last century, it became the winter resort of
well-heeled families from the East Coast, including brand-name visitors such as William Wrigley, Jr., the chewing gum
magnate. Thanks to the arrival of the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe Railway in the 1880s and the building of grand
hotels, easterners could escape to Pasadena’s gentle climate, enjoying year-round sunshine with the scent of orange
blossoms in the air.
Many decided to stay, hiring noted architects to build elegant homes. On “Millionaires’ Row” along Orange
Grove Avenue, the Renaissance-style Wrigley Mansion filled 18,500 square feet and had 22 rooms. Today it’s the
headquarters of the Rose Parade, Pasadena’s most famous export to the world.
Cultured citizens created world-class art collections
and gardens. If a bit clubby, the new settlers
were highly refined, and their homes distinguished
themselves from the show-off houses of Los Angeles.
(The Westside has square footage, it’s been said, but
Pasadena has architecture.)
Going for the gold, I arrived one morning at
the Gamble House, considered the most complete
original example of the work of architects Charles
and Henry Greene. They designed it in 1908 as the
“ultimate bungalow” for David Gamble. As in Procter
& Gamble. (His father invented Ivory soap.)
The “Behind the Velvet Ropes Tour” sounded veddy
Pasadena posh, so I signed up for the two-and-a-
half-hour exploration. Our docent guide donned white
gloves to open doors and drawers that folks on the
standard one-hour public tour never get to see. Take
that, commoners!
Described as a “symphony in wood,” the Gamble
House presented a broad façade of hand-split
shingles, overhanging eaves, and balconies. The
interior glowed with rich, deep mahogany, oak, and
Burma teak. All that wood, however, made the house
so dark that our group was issued LED flashlights so
we could make out the details: art glass in a dining
PASADENA
46
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fall
