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From Hearth To Heritage
Patricia Eakins
10/01/2005
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When George Lewis and his wife, Clifton, commissioned Frank Lloyd Wright to
design their home in Tallahassee, Fla., in the early 1950s, they raised more
than a few eyebrows among their neighbors, most of whom resided behind the white
columns of antebellum-style mansions. But the Lewises were always a bit ahead of
their time. A board member of one of the preservation institutes Clifton
supports recently told the Tallahassee Democrat that she is a woman who dares to
dream the important dream.
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A home’s architectural pedigree and the accomplishments of
its inhabitants may elevate a residence to a legacy worthy of preservation. But
families who embrace the notion that transforming a home into a public legacy is
easy may be unpleasantly surprised. Negotiations with the community and
financial sponsors can be long and complex. A significant endowment must be
established for long-term upkeep. The owner must also convince heirs, or find a
sponsoring institution or government agency, to oversee the home and the
endowment in perpetuity.
Photography by Sue Root Baker |
Her husband died in 1996, and today Clifton dreams of immortalizing Spring
House, named after the freshwater font that first drew her to the property.
The structure is one of Wright’s later works—and the only residence he designed
in Florida—a so-called hemicycle or two-story structure characterized by
concentric and intersecting circles. Spring House is already listed on the
National Register of Historic Places. The Lewis family and Spring House together
appear to possess the important qualities that comprise a home that can become a
public legacy: a dwelling with an architectural pedigree owned by a resident of
local prominence.
But the process of transforming Spring House from a
personal home to a public heritage has been, so far, rather quixotic. The Lewis
family has faced many of the exasperating challenges common to those seeking to
establish their home as a legacy to the community. Safeguarding a beloved or
even historically significant residence for posterity often requires exhaustive
planning, more patience than Job, delicate diplomatic skills and a large
endowment. But, if done wisely, a legacy home can become an architectural
showpiece or an inspiring meeting place that serves untold numbers in future
generations.
George Lewis’s great-grandfather, Benjamin Cheever Lewis, rode to Florida
from Lynn, Mass., on a mule and founded Lewis State Bank in 1856. The
institution remained in the family until the 1970s. Despite his conservative
profession, George’s penchant for activism made him “a black sheep in the family
and community,” his son Van recalls with pride. Clifton, scion of a deeply
rooted Tallahassee family, remains an iconoclastic crusader for progressive
causes, often attending meetings clad in a bonnet and a black or white caftan
made by her daughter, Byrd Lewis Mashburn.
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