Plywood Houses

“I was interested in the concept of a ‘minimal’ house, because the Watzek house was so large and costly. Making the Watzek house exterior look clean was a very expensive way to build. I happily entered into an agreement to do nine builder houses shortly thereafter.”1

“Burt Smith came to me and asked me to design some inexpensive houses; he had been the contractor for the Watzek house...The houses were built on wooded and rocky lots that had nothing but rocks and trees to recommend them, and all the trees and rocks and mosses were still there. So I painted the houses with colors that blended into the sites. The first one was a celadon color with a bright burnt orange front door; they all had variations of colors like that, some were bluer or yellower according to the plants that were there...they were nice colors.”2

“This house is the first completed of an eventual group of 10 small houses on rocky wooded sites. The materials and style of the group will be consistent but the plan will be individual for each house.

Perhaps the most distinguishing features of the house are the windows and ventilating systems. The glass is fixed between structural vertical members with ventilators below each window. This arrangement permits the narrow divisions between the glass which is not usually possible in wooden sash construction. It provides windows which are never obscured by screens, permits rain proof ventilation, and makes the one-story house burglar proof as far as the windows are concerned. Also, curtains can cover the windows without interfering with ventilation. The color of the house is a yellowish gray green with a chocolate brown roof and burnt orange front door.

The problem was to produce a house on a densely wooded site which would be sufficiently light and cheerful without necessitating the clearing which would destroy the character of the location. An attempt was made to design a wooden house which was contemporary in feeling without using the forms made fashionable by modern architecture in other materials.”3

Published in the April 1939 issue of The Architectural Forum with the theme of “The Low Cost House,” this was one of 46 built projects, of which only six could really be called modern.4 Among these are designs by Raphael Soriano (California), Alden Dow (Michigan), and Paul Thiry (Seattle). This indicates how difficult a problem it was—and still is—for architects working in a modern syntax to compete in the low cost housing market with conventional houses, which are easy and accessible for bankers, builders, and buyers. Given Architectural Forum’s predilection for publishing modern work, it means they could find very little of it in 1939 that qualified as low cost housing and they warned that “The Forum anticipates more than one raised eyebrow over the esthetic quality of some of the houses presented in this issue.”5 Their main criterion was that the cost to occupants be between $25–$406 per month in payments, or a total cost for the house and land of $4,0007 or less. Yeon’s house was slightly over the limit, at $4,750, although they acknowledged that this “excellent” plan was “a deluxe version of the minimum house.” Yeon’s achievement in this regard is

1 Salkin, Andrew H. “John Yeon; The Influence of the Region.” ARCADE 1982–83.

2 John Yeon interview with Richard Brown, December 1993. Unpublished transcript.

3 Yeon, letter to Architectural Forum, February 25, 1939.

4 Due to rising real estate values, most if these homes are regrettably no longer “low cost.” One of Yeon’s small houses, on SW Upland Drive, Portland (remodeled) sold in 2013 for over $600,000. astounding, given the pronounced failures of so many other accomplished modern architects in this endeavor. As The Forum notes in its introduction, “More often than not these small houses are designed without benefit of architect. More often than not architects will say they cannot afford to do small houses. But there is little comfort in that answer to the architect who believes his profession can no longer ignore the housing requirements of nearly three-quarters of the people in the U.S.”8

5 Architectural Forum, “The Low Cost House,” April 1939. p. 233.

6 $450–$650 in 2013 currency.

7 About $67,000 in 2013.

The interest in this topic was driven by the fact that the U. S. was still struggling with the effects of the Depression—low cost housing was not an issue at all in the 1920s, but The Forum noted that in 1939 over 70% of American families earned less than $2,000 per year, whereas ten years earlier, well over half the population earned more than that.

An interesting comparison is to be made with the “low cost” houses published in Life magazine a year before.9 Although the article steadfastly refuses to put a specific price on each house, claiming too much pricing variability from region to region, one can extrapolate projected costs for the eight houses— four “traditional” and four “modern”—each in a slightly different price range. The least expensive pair appears to be in the $4,000 to $6,000 range. The next pair jumps to around $6,000 to $8,000, including the “modern” house designed by William Wurster. Frank Lloyd Wright has an equally modern entry, but only at the higher $10,000 to $12,000 level, and a completely glazed modern home for the highest income bracket is presented by the prestigious commercial firm of Harrison & Fouiloux for approximately $20,000.10

It is revealing to compare the less expensive Life versions with Yeon’s “low cost” plywood house. In terms of simple planning, the Life houses are three-bedroom, while Yeon’s is two-bedroom. However, Yeon’s house appears to cost only half as much to build as either of the two less expensive Life houses, “traditional” or “modern.” The latter was produced by the renowned Edward Durell Stone, who only a year earlier designed the Museum of Modern Art in New York.11 Stone was a devoted acolyte of the International Style, although his “functional” house planning in this case consisted mainly of eliminating the perceived “wasted” space of corridors. The plan he presents—prefiguring his later career of geometrically pure buildings—is nearly a perfect square. A service core fills the center with a single car garage and screened porch attached to one side, unfortunately blocking the kitchen from light or view. The “traditional” version of the inexpensive Life house, designed by Richard Koch, is a singularly unaccomplished and unimaginative representation of a typical American suburban home of the period.12

8 Ibid.

9 “Eight Houses for Modern Living,” Life, September 1938.

10 This translates in 2013 dollars to: $67,000–100,000 for the least expensive, $100,000–130,000 for the Wurster, $167,000–200,000 for Wright’s home, and $335,000 for Harrison’s.

“The plywood houses were cheaper than tract houses. Besides the looks—and the outlook from them—appealed to some people...they were fairly well described in magazines at the time.”13

In this context, Yeon’s unofficial entry to the genre as it were, is a refreshing solution to the problem. It is relaxed and livable, an easy combination of modernism and tradition without rhetoric. In planning, every room in the house, except the bath, has exposure to natural light and fresh air on two sides via floor-toceiling glazing and ventilation. Notably, this includes the kitchen, which in both of the cheaper Life houses, barely qualify for the nomenclature of “room.” The formal characteristics of Yeon’s house are without obedience to any abstract theory or fashion. They derive from a rational distribution of space on the site, guided by a fierce determination to bring natural light, fresh air, comfort, beauty, and the natural world into the design of even the least expensive homes.

The construction of the Plywood houses consists of 2x4 fir studs at 16 inches on center with rough 1x6 fir tongue and groove for structural sheathing, 15 lb. felt building paper, and painted “Resn-Prest” plywood as the exterior skin, modulated with (painted) vertical fir battens 28 inches on center. The interior walls are standard 2x4 studs supporting plaster & metal lath construction. Wood trim is eliminated at the interior of the windows, with Yeon’s preferred detail of a curved ¾ inch plaster casing making the transition from plaster to wood. Floors are concrete slabs, finished with oak blocks, or “parquet,” set in asphalt, with linoleum in the kitchens and baths.

The roof construction is unusual, consisting of 2x6 inch tongue and groove fir boards spanning from ridge to eave, without the presence of normal roof rafters. The roof is of cedar shingles with a four inch exposure, giving a tight appearance and a greater than average degree of waterproofing. This system was, as Yeon explained, “a great economy and produced a very refined eave, overhanging 18 or 24 inches.”14

The windows are without sash and comprised of fixed panes of 3/16 inch plate glass inserted between the standard stud spacing with ventilation provided by operable louvers below. For sun control and privacy,

Yeon outfitted all windows with Venetian blinds from the Oregon Venetian Blind Company.15 The total construction cost at the time was $3,280.00.16 The cost of the land and other miscellaneous costs added up to a grand total of $4,750.00 for the project.

These unpretentious modern homes of Yeon’s have met with various fates over the years. Most have simply outlived their site’s “low cost” status, particularly the Lake Oswego and West Hills locations, now prestigious and expensive neighborhoods. Most have been remodeled, though one of the West Hills homes remains relatively intact. Due to lesser real estate pressures, the Mock’s Crest pair are probably in the best condition, one of them now on the Historic Register.

“I was dismayed by the estimates [of the Watzek house] and expected it could not be built. As penance, the following year I did inexpensive small speculation houses for the contractor who built the Watzek house. The first one, with two bedrooms, cost $3,280. After four or five of these, the contractor took orders for specific clients for several more. All had somewhat differing plans and colors, but the construction formula was the same. The balloon framing was made visible. The framing was exposed in the window areas; glass was fitted between the studs at two-foot intervals. Exterior plywood was newly available and it sheathed the house, with battens at the same interval. 2 x 6 tongue and groove [boards] made inclined slabs for the roofs without rafters. This

14 John Yeon interview with Richard Brown, December 1993. Unpublished transcript.

15 Architectural Forum, April 1939.

16 The success of this venture in terms of cost is remarkable if we translate the price of the home into 2013 dollars, which would be approximately $55,000.00 for construction costs. This is less than half the price per square foot required to construct a comparable home in 2013. This can partly be accounted for by the dramatic rise in labor wages proportional to materials in today’s economy versus that of 1940 and there are variables in that many materials that were inexpensive in 1940 are luxury items today. produced a thin clean eave line in scale with the size of the house and the narrow window divisions. Ventilation under or above the windows was provided by fixed louvered openings with adjustable small inside doors. The separation of ventilation from view and light sources eliminated the complication of movable windows and increased security.

All this may seem old hat now, but it certainly wasn’t at the time. Fixed glass and louver ventilation spread like wildfire until aluminum sliding doors and windows became popular. The formula was invented for a tree-shaded site with exterior doors providing ventilation. In many situations where it was used by others, louver ventilation alone was inadequate—twostory public housing in particular.”17

When Robert Moses prepared his report for Portland in the fall of 1943, waterfront development along the Willamette was a key ingredient.1 In typical Moses fashion, the waterfront was envisioned as a grand design with recreational plazas and dramatic civic buildings flanking the river—markets, theaters, municipal offices, and museums. Moses specifically commented on one important aspect, “the deplorable entrance to the city” from the south. This was one motivation for the siting and subsequent construction of the Visitors Information Center five years later.

Yeon best explained this building—what he referred to as his only real “urban proposition”2—when, ironically, he was making a plea for its destruction, attempting to prevent its conversion to a restaurant. His rationale for this reveals Yeon’s extraordinary self-effacement and willingness to go so far as to recommend the destruction of his own building—his only public building, one with landmark status no less—in order to serve a larger ideal, which in this case was the development of Governor Tom McCall Waterfront Park, then underway. Built at the scale of a large house, this building is a brilliant example of Yeon’s thinking about interior and exterior space. Executed with sensitivity and skill it is a rigorous and disciplined work of civic architecture.

The basic concept is an asymmetrical pinwheel arrangement of four rectangular blocks of varying heights and sizes. The boundary of the main public space is implied within the empty space found between three of those blocks, and further defined by a ceiling which they support. Floor to ceiling glass walls are set between the blocks to weatherproof this public space without inhibiting natural light or views in all four directions. The smallest block—containing garden equipment and storage—maintains the pinwheel alignment, spinning out from the central formation and terminating in the pool.

“The solid blocks have identical surrounding surfaces whether these are within or without the glass enclosures of the public area. This is a quintessential inside-outside building. The color and details of the outside walls are the same as for the solid walls of the interior.

The public rooms which exist inside two of the blocks have a different treatment: hemlock walls and ceilings relating to the ceiling of the main public space. The rooms within the blocks are illuminated by windows near the ceiling. The absence of lower windows gives an illusion of solidity both inside and outside.”3

In the passage below, Yeon describes the site, the building’s original intent, and its orphaned status as the physical and political landscape of the area changed over time. He rightly thought the structure had outlived its usefulness and that flexibility, appropriateness and common sense should prevail over rules and regulations. This indicates Yeon’s worldview of architecture as inextricably bound to context, of use and of place. Despite his understanding of the Information Center as “a significant little building”4 he felt it was ill suited to what we now call “adaptive reuse” and—with the development of Waterfront Park—had become an awkward relic, more of an impediment than an aid to the park’s completion.5

“When the building was first constructed, the surroundings were far less attractive than now. The Journal Building (originally a market) loomed to the north. Harbor Drive with heavy traffic passed between it and the river, the surrounding park did not exist, and the drift of new construction towards the waterfront had not begun.”6

“The Visitors Information Center was a Chamber of Commerce project abandoned when Harbor Drive was removed, eliminating the access which was the rationale for its location. The great 1962 storm leveled the pergola which then was overburdened with the weight of untrimmed climbing roses. It also removed the garden wall. But the building had suffered the changing notions of changing committees long before this happened. The original site was a brutal one, beside a two-block-long building and behind Harbor Drive. Both of these are now removed to accommodate a park where the building survives in a derelict state [in 1986], and should be removed for many reasons. I have been opposed to proposals to restore it for adaptive uses which would alter essentials of the original concept. The removal is complicated by a landmark designation.7

“Neither the exterior nor the interior can be separately altered without affecting the other. It is a quintessential inside-outside concept. The central space is a transparent glazed enclosure between dense rectangular blocks having surrounding surfaces of identical color and detail. If this single-minded concept is impaired, the building has nothing to offer architecturally. The inflexible stubbornness of the concept gave it whatever merit or interest it had….The most logical use of the structure would be resumption of its original use.”8

Considered by some to be “Portland’s first encounter with the International Style,”9 the Center was built entirely on a three-foot modular grid (similar to many of the houses). The original colors were signature Yeon: light sea-green for the battens and mullions, set against a darker blue-green for the exterior plywood panels, with exposed framing edges (2 x 6’s on the exterior, 2 x 4’s on the interior) painted an even darker blue-black, and a deep Venetian red or “Cherokee” red on the doors. The large exhibit room (the block parallel to the river) could be transformed into a small theater by raising hinged panels to cover the high clerestory windows. Benches that were normally set against the wall were then moved out to the center to face the screen. Ceilings are six-foot clear-grain hemlock squares in an alternating parquetlike pattern, with recessed lighting in the center of each square. The long stately pergola that stretches along the river side originally held wisteria, but was quickly replaced with climbing roses. On the other side of the garden, bamboo was planted inside the fence that protected the garden from the parking area, and flowering water-plants grew in the pool. The

6 John Yeon, letter to Bill Hawkins, October 29, 1985.

7 John Yeon. Pries Lecture, 1986.

8 John Yeon. Letter to Bill Hawkins, October 29, 1985. In this letter, Yeon did suggest several alternative ideas for the building’s reuse as a public facility, preferable to a privately owned restaurant, among them a headquarters for the Metropolitan Arts Commission, Oregon state tourist information, or a building had radiant heat under light brown asphalt tile floors while ventilation for cooling and fresh air was provided, as in nearly all of Yeon’s buildings with operable louvers distinct from the fixed glazing set inexpensively into the modular frame.

Park Bureau facility taking care of all waterfront-park related activities—an easy and logical solution. Although the building did become a restaurant, it was never a success. Today it is fully renovated (though not restored) as offices for the Portland Rose Festival Foundation, so its public use now comes close to Yeon’s suggestions.

9 A Century of Portland Architecture. p. 173.

This small but lovely building was widely published, perhaps most significantly in the Museum of Modern Art’s 1952 exhibit and book, Built in USA: Post-war Architecture. Here, it was featured alongside Belluschi’s much larger Equitable Building, and a number of American mid-century monuments: Johnson’s Glass House, the Eames’s own house, Aalto’s MIT Dormitory, Neutra’s Tremaine House, Mies’s Farnsworth House, SOM’s Lever House, and Frank Lloyd Wright’s Johnson Wax Building. The success of this building raises the tantalizing question of what Yeon might have done, had he been given more opportunities to design in the urban realm.