CARTER SPARKS MAGIC
Drama, humor, and exoticism meld with redwood
warmth for architect's quirky brand of modernism

From the pages of CA-Modern magazine
By Dave Weinstein

Franklin Yee, a young surgeon, and his wife, Sandra, knew what they wanted when they sought an architect -- sort of. "We wanted the unexpected," Sandra says.

That's exactly what they got -- thanks to their architect, Carter Sparks, whose brand of modernism diverged in many ways from that of his contemporaries -- especially in his taste for drama and the exotic.

Today, mid-century modernism is back in fashion, even in the aesthetically conservative Sacramento Valley. People who own mid-century homes are paying more attention to the style. In Sacramento, most of those folks live in homes designed by Sparks, thanks to his work for the Streng Bros. developers.

But that doesn't mean they all get what makes Sparks' work special. To many of its fans, mid-century modern has taken on a meaning that is simple -- even simplistic. It means open plans, walls of glass, and easy access to the outdoors. But how about those architects, like Sparks, who brought something unique to the style -- humor, exoticism, personal quirks -- along with the Bay Area's traditional love for the warmth of redwood?

Mid-century modern, after all, was never a style. It was a catchall phrase to describe the work of individualistic architects whose styles sometimes converged -- but often, thankfully, did not. The work of the woodsier among these architects is often ignored by mid-century fans. Wood-paneled walls are often painted white. That could be why Sparks (1923-1997), who never achieved fame during his lifetime, hasn't gained fame during today's revival. Woodsy modernism still isn't hip.

But Sparks has gained increased admiration from Streng homeowners, many of whom have tried to preserve their homes' architectural character while adding rooms or otherwise remodeling. Often, however, even with the best intentions, they end up losing some of the Sparks magic.

So, what 'is' that Sparks magic? And what did Sparks put of himself into his homes? One way to find out is to visit Sparks' custom houses. Even his largest custom homes bear much in common, both in attitude and detail, with the humblest of his tract houses.

For this purpose you couldn't find better owners than Sandra and Franklin Yee, who live in a two-story, four-bedroom, 3,300-square-foot home on just under an acre of land in suburban Sacramento. For one thing, the home remains remarkably unchanged since it was built in 1968. "Anything we added to the house would be detrimental to Sparks' design," says Franklin.

For another, Franklin seems to speak with the architect's own voice as he repeats some of Sparks' mantras. "When you walk into a house," Franklin says, "Carter wanted a sense of excitement. 'Most houses, when you walk in you know where the living room is, you know where the dining room is. I want you to walk into a home where you don't know where all the components are going to be. You want to wonder where everything is.'"

The demands the Yees made on their architect were great. Sandra, who had lived in Berkeley, wanted something that recalled that town's Arts and Crafts shingled or wood-sided hillside architecture. Both Sandra and Franklin were fans of Frank Lloyd Wright, one of Sparks' main influences.

Plus, Franklin says, "We liked a house to be multi-storied with a lot of balconies, and with redwood, like you were in a mountain place." They also needed bedrooms for their three children. "No long halls, no wasted space," Franklin says. "I wanted a sunken living room. And we wanted a very dramatic stairwell." And, of course, they wanted to spend as little as possible.

Then, the kicker. Franklin tossed in an odd demand. "We also said, if we were living in the era of George Washington, we would have a Colonial house with large columns. I said I wanted contemporary columns in our home." Columns, of course, are not something modern architects do -- not, at least, in the pre-post modern era. But Sparks smiled, then started asking questions.

"Carter wanted to know our philosophy," Franklin said. "He said anybody can design a home, can give you the amount of square footage and how many bedrooms you want. But he wants to know your philosophy of living." "He spent about a year just talking about what we wanted in a house," Sandra added. The result is a house that has many of Sparks' signature touches -- but is also all about the Yees.

Like many of Sparks' houses, the Yee house is a bit off-putting from outside. With its redwood boards that have weathered to gray, the house suggests a barn.

There's the typical Sparks approach to the house -- concrete aggregate pavers, more aggregate than concrete, leading to a rustic wooden deck without railings. But it's the door itself that shouts "Sparks." Solid redwood with faux paneling, it rises 12 feet to the roofline. A pleasant day could be spent touring Sparks' doors throughout the Sacramento Valley, each one different and dramatic. The doors, like something from a castle, tell you something about Sparks. If modern architecture had to avoid reference to past styles, then Sparks was no modernist.

In fact, Sparks' first plan called for the house to look like a pagoda, with three levels of roofline with upturned eaves. But the Yees scotched that plan, trimming the width of the eaves to save money, and eliminating the top roof to avoid offending the neighbors, who lived in single-story ranches. "He was thinking of it like a Chinese temple," Sandra says of Sparks. Playing up the couple's ethnic heritage was Sparks' idea; they hadn't suggested it.

That was one of the few changes the Yees made in Sparks' plan, however. And many Asian touches remain, including chandeliers of Sparks' own design -- a common Sparks touch. He even turned the George Washington columns into something Chinese. They support the ceiling beams in a way that can be seen in Chinese temples, Sandra says.

It became clear to the Yees that not only had they selected Sparks, he had selected them. He wouldn't work with anyone -- just people he enjoyed socializing with. "He really did pick and choose his clients," Sandra says. "He picked the kind of client he could work with." Gregarious yet refined, Sparks loved skiing and socializing, Sandra remembers.

"With his custom clients, he would spend time getting to know them," said Jim Streng, one of the two Streng brothers. "Typically Carter and his wife would become friends with his clients -- I mean close friends."

To Sparks, architecture was collaborative, even symbiotic, Franklin suggests. "He didn't like clients who wanted to run the show," Franklin says, "or those who said, 'You do everything.' He preferred clients who were engaged and took part in it. Then he rose to his heights."

Sparks enjoyed rigorous geometry. The Yee house is symmetrical, essentially an octagon with the corners filled in by rectangular rooms. It is centered on a 34-foot-tall chimney. "It was really amazing he was able to do it without us sacrificing any function," Sandra says. "Because he was so artistic in nature," Franklin says, "I thought he would be impractical but, gee by golly, this house works."

The effect of the design is far from mathematical. The house resembles a rustic lodge. The entire living area, except for the children's rooms, is essentially one large room, like a tent. The master bedroom and library float above the main living areas, and look down on them through open balconies that can close up for privacy with sliding walls.

The natural stone fireplace is the home's dramatic and geometric center. Sparks suggested that the Yees water the stone to keep alive the moss that grew on it when it was installed. "I said, I don't think I'll have time to do that," Sandra recalls.

More even than most of his modernist colleagues, Sparks believed in the integrity of materials. The fireplace and adjoining wall are actually made of stone all the way through (with steel inside); the stone is not veneer. "To have architectural integrity, it has to be all stone, right through the wall," Sparks insisted.

"And he said, 'With most houses, the front of the house is finished, not the back of the house,'" Franklin says. "He wanted it finished all the way around, so every part of the house could have the front door."

For added drama, Sparks designed what may be the house's greatest feature, a sculptural stairway of risers that float out of the rock wall. The balusters are simple cedar boards without a top rail. "One carpenter must have spent a month on the stairs," Sandra says. "He just put so much architectural detail into this house," Franklin says.

A sunken conversation pit facing the fire is another Sparks touch -- as is the cantilevered hearth. Franklin asked Sparks why the seating in the pit was so low. "When you have low seating, the women's skirts are pulled up," he replied, "and I like that."

Although ceilings soar throughout most of the living area, they are low over the conversation pit. "He said, 'If you have soaring ceilings, you have to have a low ceiling so you have a place where you feel sheltered and protected in.'" Sandra says. "We have had an annual Christmas party for 40 years, a fire going, a Christmas tree," Franklin says. "We'd sit here drinking wine, then have a fine dinner. It's really conducive, so warm and festive."

Sparks, who also designed some of the furniture, provided a large wooden chandelier-planter over the dining table, to provide a sense of intimacy while dining. A wall of glass opens the house to the backyard, with its pool, fishpond, bridge, and gazebo.

In some ways, Sparks had more faith in his clients than they had in themselves. He pushed them to spend more on the house than they thought wise -- and he clearly didn't do it to increase his profits. Sparks was known for his lack of business acumen -- and an occasional reluctance to bill his clients.

"He said, 'Franklin, in five years, you're going to wish you would have made your house larger and better,'" Franklin says. Sandra adds: "He said, 'Franklin, you have a good future ahead of you.'"

But the Yees didn't listen. About the cost-cutting, Franklin admits, "I'm regretting it."

Photos: David Toerge; vintage photograph courtesy Yee family

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