Photograph courtesy of Cookie Curci-Wright
Blending In: This home, which replaced an older home that was demolished, appeared invasive at first, but now it blends in nicely with the older homes.
Remember When
Monster Homes: Not So Scary After All
As neighborhoods change over the years, monster homes don't seem so monstrous
By Cookie Curci-Wright
The increase in population following World War II created a worldwide need for more housing. In the United Kingdom over 500,000 homes were destroyed during the Blitz, and one out of three was damaged.
Later, when land became scarce, it forced buildings upwards. Apartment complexes that seemed to touch the sky began popping up where smaller houses once stood.
In Europe, little villas and palaces where torn down to make room for huge office and apartment complexes. In America, stately turn-of-the-century Victorians were demolished to make way for urban renewal.
In postwar San Jose, tracts of new, one-family houses were built. The postwar housing filled the land were orchards and ranch houses once stood. Bungalow homes were the style of the day, just big enough for a small family of four to live comfortably.
I grew up in one of these two-bedroom Willow Glen charmers. Dad and Mom purchased the stucco house, built by Henry Oddi, in 1937, just after they married. To Dad, it was a palace. Understandably so, since he had spent his childhood living in a crowded old Almaden ranch house, where he shared a room under the water tank with his six brothers. Our "little palace" had only one bathroom and we were crowded for space, but the time we spent, and the circumstances, brought us closer together.
That lack of privacy served as a family equalizer. It left no place for secrets and no room for pompous individuality or status symbols. What developed was a unique feeling of camaraderie.
These monstrous homes come in many forms and are built of wood, stone, brick or concrete. But the materials, of which today's new homes are made, aren't the concern of longtime homeowners as much their intrusive sizes and locations.
The resistance to change in housing styles isn't anything new. When split-level and ranch-style homes came along, they were considered awkward and intrusive by the owners of the Victorian, Italianate and Queen Ann homes, many of which were torn down and replaced by modern tract-style homes. The owners of the older homes, quite naturally, felt the invasion of new housing tracts disrupted the inherent quality of their older neighborhoods
The bungalow home is now the target in this demolition derby. On my block alone, at least five of these smaller homes have been gutted and huge new homes constructed in their place.
Photograph courtesy of Cookie Curci-Wright
This Old House: Our old family home (shown in 1945) has since been demolished and replaced with a new one.
Last fall, when one of these massive new homes, a sprawling two-story, was erected on my street, it appeared my fears were well-founded. Its massive construction dwarfed the smaller houses alongside it. When visitors came to our home and saw the new construction, they invariably sneered, "What's that going up over there, the new Willow Glen Hilton?"
During construction, the house and its dark maze of rooms appeared to be a mammoth creature squeezing into a too small space. It was an eyesore to our once quaint neighborhood. I feared that our avenue's tranquil ambiance had been destroyed.
Through the chill of winter and the spring rains the building went on as it devoured every available square inch of space. With each new layer of construction material, the house appeared more and more obtrusive.
Soon afterwards, at least eight houses in a two-block area had been gutted and rebuilt. I was certain our beloved neighborhood would be consumed by the monsters.
But, when the seasons changed and summer came into full bloom, something remarkable took place. The leafy foliage, absent throughout winter, returned to the trees and bushes in the neighborhood, and the bare, sun-baked facades of these new homes were now shaded and softened. Painted surfaces yielded a soft, textured look that helped them mingle with old.
Slowly, these houses began to blend into our neighborhood.
By the time the architectural features were set into place--the decorative gingerbread, the warm oak doors, the brick trim, French windows, rock fireplaces and window sills "painted" with traditional window box plants--it was clear these "monster" homes had done nothing to our neighborhood except to improve it. Their fresh style, new stucco, paint and gracious landscaping have upgraded our neighborhoods and brought a new affluence to the community.
America has seen the era of cluster homes, (houses built side-by-side) custom homes, high rises and condos. Just as each century has left its mark on the habits, tastes and styles in clothes and architecture, the 21st century brings its own look to the Willow Glen neighborhood; the mix of ranch-style, postwar and high-rise housing somehow manages to blend together, creating a new ambiance.
With the help and expertise of good contractors and engineers, today's new rebuilds rarely invade privacy or disrupt their neighborhoods as we once feared. They are, however, leading them in a new direction of growth.
They say home is where the heart is, and the heart of Willow Glen is fast becoming home to an eclectic mix of postwar bungalow, Victorian and large reconstructions. They coexist remarkably well in a way that is unique to our community, while imparting a sense of grace, charm and tranquillity to our neighborhoods.
Willow Glen, California Since 1992
