room door, interlocking wood joinery on the
staircase, ebony pegs covering all the nails and
screws.
I couldn’t help but wonder: If David and
Mary Gamble moved to Pasadena for the
sunshine, why was it soooo dark in here? Our
guide “enlightened” us: in 1908, electricity was
brand-new and people were accustomed to
soft candlelight, so even a 16-watt light bulb
seemed bright. (For authenticity, the house still
burns 16-watt bulbs.) People were also wary
about the effect of this newfangled electricity
on the human body. They wanted it deflected
from them, which explains why the Gamble
House’s chandeliers direct light up to the
ceilings, not down into the rooms.
Times were indeed different back then, as
we discovered on checking out the front hall
closet. Inside, a secret door led to the servants’
area. Domestic staff would dash through
to greet guests at the front door and then
literally fade into the woodwork. The Gambles
themselves didn’t want to see or hear the help;
they never set foot in the kitchen, even to grab
a sandwich.
Family members lived here until the 1960s,
when they considered selling the house – at
least until a potential buyer observed how dark
it was inside and his wife was overheard to say:
“Don’t worry, dear. We’ll just paint it white!”
Realizing that they had to preserve Greene
and Greene’s jewel-box legacy, the family handed the house over to the city and the USC School of Architecture, which
have handled it with care. (Workers restoring the outside rafter tails actually scraped out dry rot with dental tools.) The
expansive lawns and warm breezes around the house helped me feel the atmosphere that attracted people to Pasadena
in the first place.
After leaving the Gamble House, I strolled along nearby Arroyo Terrace and Grand Avenue – and discovered an
astonishing 10 more Greene and Greene houses, including Charles Greene’s own residence. It was an Arts and Crafts
extravaganza in the open air. No velvet rope required.
summer
|
fall
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