Paul Revere Williams: Designer to the Stars -- and Everyman

Hollywood’s star-making factory made celebrities not only of mere mortals, but also some of the fabulous homes where movies were made. Like Pasadena’s stunning 1929 Atkins House on the banks of the Arroyo Seco, which was featured in the 1937 hit comedy “Topper,” starring Cary Grant. Years later, news media speculated that the Tudor Revival manse had fallen under the sway of “Batman” films and Paul McCartney before it burned down in 2005.

What’s certain is it did attract high-powered proprietors and attention, which shouldn’t come as a surprise when you consider that it was designed by Paul Revere Williams, one of Los Angeles’ most prominent architects. Williams’ career spanned 50 years and 3,000 buildings, including such iconic structures as the Beverly Hills Hotel, the futuristic restaurant at LAX and Saks Fifth Avenue on Wilshire Boulevard.

The same year “Topper” beamed images of the Atkins House around the country, the African-American architect wrote in American Magazine that many prospective clients refused to hire him after meeting him in person. “In the moment they met me and discovered they were dealing with a Negro, I could see them ‘freeze,’” he wrote. “Their interest in discussing plans waned instantly and their one remaining concern was to discover a convenient exit without hurting my feelings.”

If Williams harbored any anger, he never showed it in public. But he wrote of “successive stages of bewilderment” over the way he was treated and how he wrestled with “inarticulate protest, resentment and, finally, reconciliation to the status of my race.” In her book, “Paul R. Williams, Architect: A Legacy of Style” (Rizzoli; 1993), Williams’ granddaughter Karen Hudson wrote, “My grandfather certainly had to deal with the color issue, because back then, you couldn’t lean over a white woman if you were a black man.”

That didn’t stop the talented designer from impressing some of the most prominent clients of the day. “White Americans, in spite of every prejudice, are essentially fair-minded people who cannot refuse to respect courage and honest effort,” he wrote in his diary. “They will, therefore, give me an opportunity to prove my worth.”

For five decades, Williams designed with consistency and confidence, both for the elite and everyman. He was a favorite of wealthy businessmen, corporations and celebrities whose names could have easily filled out an awards ceremony program — Grant, Frank Sinatra, Lucille Ball, Danny Thomas and Barbara Stanwyck, among them. His portfolio also included public housing projects, hospitals, banks, car dealerships and schools.

Orphaned at age four, Williams sold newspapers as a youngster outside a downtown Los Angeles bank where his stepfather worked as a janitor. One of the bank’s customers was state Sen. Frank Flint. Years later, Flint hired Williams to design several homes for his new subdivision, Flintridge, which consisted of 1,700 acres bordering La Cañada.

The San Gabriel Valley became one of Williams’ most profitable regions; he designed more than 25 homes in Flintridge alone, as well as residences in Glendale, Sierra Madre, Pasadena and Tujunga. Observed Richard Phillips, a former La Cañada Flintridge resident who has both lived and worked in buildings designed by Williams, “You go from one room to another and it’s so natural. You feel he suited it for the human condition. There’s nothing intimidating; there’s no unnecessary ornamentation.”

Though many of Williams’ designs, such as the 32,000-square-foot Cord Residence in Beverly Hills, were conceived on a grand scale, Williams was restrained in his use of ornamentation so that each building felt modest and unpretentious. “The majority of his designs were not particularly innovative or trend-setting; they were appealing and solidly grounded in established architectural principles,” said Mella Rothwell Harmon, the Nevada Historical Society curator who researched his work for National Register of Historic Places nominations. “His designs reflected imagination and an understanding of the ways in which people relate to buildings.”

Williams built a 1928 Mission-style residence in Glendale the same year he designed an 8,000-square-foot Mediterranean residence showcase for the wealthy Dr. V. Mott Pierce in the San Rafael area of Pasadena. Currently on the market for $3.8 million, it is the most expensive Williams property in the San Gabriel Valley, according to Realtor Tink Cheney of Coldwell Banker. Less than two miles down the road but a world away, a 1926 Tudor Revival sits modestly among Craftsman and Spanish Revival homes on La Loma Road. The price tag: $2.1 million. As these homes demonstrate, Williams was able to move among radically different design forms without a stumble. A Williams home can’t be identified by architectural style alone. This doesn’t imply a lack of creativity, but rather a deep mastery of various styles and an ease in implementing them.

Even with its vast scale and expansive rooms, the Pierce Residence feels subdued and intimate. Crown molding with diamond-pattern detailing and carved fireplaces are visible throughout the house, and the living room has a beautiful coffered wood ceiling. Built into a hillside and surrounded by foliage, the La Loma property was a modest 2,600 square feet when it was completed in 1926 and has since undergone interior renovations. There is purpose and flow to the main entrance, from which a gently curving staircase offers access to the upstairs bedrooms.

In 2006, a prominent Pasadena couple moved a 1936 Holmby Hills home once owned by Revlon mogul Ron Perelman 20 miles east to a site near the Colorado Street Bridge. The $2 million move was spearheaded by Ann-Marie Villicana, a Realtor, lawyer and former member of the Pasadena City Council, and her husband, Robin Salzer, owner of Robin’s Wood Fire BBQ & Grill. The $2 million project involved dividing the 10,000-square-foot home into 26 sections and trucking three pieces a night after midnight.”We’ll have a chance to do something good for Pasadena and it’ll be in a prime spot where people can see it,” Salzer told the Pasadena Weekly at the time. “People are thankful that another house of Williams’ will be saved.”

At the height of his career, Williams had satellite offices in Bogotá, Colombia, and Washington, D.C. In 1923, he became the first African-American to join the American Institute of Architects Southern California Chapter; in 1957, he was the first African-American elected to the AIA College of Fellows. Williams served on the Los Angeles Planning Commission, on the Big Brothers of Greater Los Angeles board of directors and as a life member of the NAACP, among other leadership roles.

“It’s difficult to separate his professional accomplishments as an architect from his personal achievements as a black man in a white profession,” Harmon says. “The importance of his commissions is wrapped up in the story of his perseverance in pursuit of a career that would have otherwise not been open to him. The romantic air of his designs was achieved not only through the manipulation of design elements, but they came from his soul and life experience.”

Williams was showered with recognition from all sides when he retired in 1973. When he died seven years later, there were no financial scandals or allegations of sexual misconduct — which plagued the memory of many of his prominent peers — to taint his legacy. Williams had always valued purpose and responsibility. Says Harmon: “I think Paul Williams’ remarkable and valuable contribution was embodying the importance of architecture in the lives of common people.”