Fire struck the Frank Lloyd Wright-designed Peter Beachy House on the quiet afternoon of Aug. 2, 1990. As is usually the case on Oak Park`s Forest Avenue, a street lined with architectural masterpieces, clumps of tourists wandered the sidewalks, cameras in hand. One of them actually captured the beginnings of the conflagration-start ed by blow torch-wielding roofers who, in panic, hid their tools and bolted-on film.
Firefighters were on the scene almost immediately, and battled the flames. By the time Gabrielle and Uwe Freese returned home, all unsuspecting, the southwestern portion of the house was burned through completely.
Ultimately, reports Gabrielle Freese, a dentist who practices in Oak Park and who was forced to acquire an entire new wardrobe in short order, ”the front of the house had to be demolished on the inside, from the bottom up. The outside walls were left standing, but the inside was rebuilt.”
Water from the firefighters` hoses-an estimated 84,000 gallons-had drenched the interior, leaving the floors buckled, cabinets uncloseable and the basement a de facto swimming pool.
Although the firefighters were outstandingly considerate, saving the grand piano, cat and Wright-designed furniture, many of the souvenirs of a pair of cultured lifetimes (including more than 800 books) were a total loss. ”Walking into the house at night was like walking into a grotto,”
recalls Uwe Freese, a gynecologist who teaches at Chicago Medical College.
”It was open to the skies, and there was water dripping everywhere, up to our ankles.”
Only the back end of the house was livable-they celebrated birthdays and Christmas in the kitchen-and when it rained, says Gabrielle, ”we put out everything that would hold water-wastebaskets, buckets, dishes. Living in these circumstances brings out your pioneer spirit, if you have any.”
`A death in the family`
Such a fire would be a disaster to any family, in any house. But the houses designed by Frank Lloyd Wright have been recognized for their special design merit. To lose one, especially one of his seminal Prairie School residences, would be to lose a piece of American architectural history.
Both of the Freeses use the same phrase: ”A fire like this is like a death in the family.” Yet although the fire was a disaster-causing grief, expense and a further loss of privacy to the very private Freeses-it at least was not unmitigated: Because things had to be generally rebuilt, they were able to restore many original features of the house.
The Beachy House (Wright-designed houses are known by the names of their first owners), built of brick and stucco in 1906, was constructed around an older residence and employs many of the classic features of Wright`s Prairie School period. It fell into philistine hands in the 1940s, and was converted into a two-flat, with many of its loveliest aspects removed or covered up, and graceless accretions marring its appearance.
Now, many months, battles with insurance companies, painstaking repairs and thousands of dollars later, the house is much closer to the handsome and original creation that Frank Lloyd Wright originally built.
Order from chaos
”We took advantage of this (mess) to do some restoration,” says Uwe Freese, whose eyes glow as he caresses the Roman brick of a newly restored fireplace. ”This is lovely. See how he`s made the horizontal lines wide, and the vertical lines narrow?” Two fireplaces were uncovered; the front staircase was reversed to its original position, opening the entry hall to greater light and spaciousness. A vertical wooden grille was rebuilt in the stairwell, for a dramatic sweep of space.
The Freeses had the considerable aid of Uwe`s brother, Ekkehardt Freese, an architect who once worked with Harry Weese and is now independent. It was Ekkehardt who marshaled the contractors and pored over the original drawings, discovering, among other things, the design of the stairwell grille. He helped to supervise the renovation.
”Finding the contractors was not easy,” he says, ”because they had to be sympathetic” to Wright`s design. ”If they are only after making money, and not interested in the job as such, it becomes much harder. We were lucky to have people who were excited about what they were doing, because an assignment like this needs experience.”
The Freeses considered three contractors; they were fortunate that working on a Wright is considered a prestige assignment, because many contractors won`t consider taking on a job that`s to be paid for by an insurance company. And the Freeses quickly found out why.
The tone was set with their first call to the insurance company`s emergency number, at 5:30. ”I was told, `You realize, ma`am, it`s after hours,` ” says Gabrielle, dryly, ”and that`s exactly the kind of treatment we got all the way through.” They quickly discovered that they were grossly underinsured-the house had never been insured for replacement value, and the 10 percent annual increases since they purchased the Beachy House in 1977 had failed to take into account the skyrocketing value of Wright designs.
The insurance folks also seemed unsympathetic to the Freeses` goal of restoring the house. ”If you`re restoring it in the true spirit, it`s more expensive,” notes Uwe. ”But the insurance man couldn`t see it. He said, `A door is a door-so go buy a hollow-core door at Sears, and save money.` ”
”The house has a very definite taste,” adds Gabrielle. ”You can`t deviate from it. Wright`s designs force you to stick to the style.” Payments to the workers were late, and the Freeses` insurance company is still battling with the roofers` insurer.
According to their contractor, Werner Friedl of Northbrook, any big, intricately designed older house would require the same expensive attention to detail. But the Freeses also benefited from the knowledgeability of the Frank Lloyd Wright Building Conservancy, an Oak Park-based organization that provides information and networking possibilities to the owners of Wright structures.
”The Freeses consulted with us, and talked to architects” who are members of the Conservancy, says administrator Carla Lind. ”They`ve taken a real preservation direction in the house, and they`ve done a remarkable job. In a way, the Freeses are helping us, by encouraging people to join and helping to prepare a disaster preparedness plan. We`re using them as a case study.”
The Freeses were able to save all but one of the original windows and most of the original moldings; the rest were painstakingly matched. And, in place of the rubberized treatment for the flat portions of the roof that was being installed when the fire was started, copper roofing is now in place. Once the last tradesman is finally out of the house for good, the Freeses will be able to enjoy the beautiful second-floor music room as Wright intended it, restored to its original elegance.
”The fire made its contribution, too,” says Ekkehardt Freese. ”It made things accessible, and made the restoration possible. It`s still a tragic thing, but we probably wouldn`t have undertaken the work without it. I had the time of my life contributing to this.”
Although the Freeses, their children grown, once considered selling the Beachy House and moving to something smaller, they decided to stay-and, fire or not, they`ve never regretted it.
”People say, `You must be crazy to live in that big house, with the tourists all over the place.` But the house is truly beautiful,” says Gabrielle Freese. ”It`s a privilege to be able to live in it and enjoy it.”
