Wisconsin Journal

Number 10

9 November 1997



How about those Ducks? How about those Badgers? For those of you not

caught up in colledge football, both defeated nationally ranked teams

over the weekend. Oregon defeated Washington, ranked 6th in the country,

while Wisconsin beat Iowa, which was ranked 12 or 14, depending on

which poll you looked at. I not sure the win affects the outcome of

the season much for Oregon, other than the joy of embarassing the

Huskies at home. For Wisconsin, on the other hand, the win over the

Hawkeyes might get them back into the top 25. Wisconsin fans were

especially excited by the win, since it was Homecoming Weekend and

Wisconsin had not won against Iowa in 18 games, dating back to 1976.

The win keeps alive their chances at taking the Big Ten title and

going back to the Rose Bowl. All they have to do is beat Michigan and

Penn State (ranked #4 and #2 in the country going into this weekend).

At least they get to fantasize until after next weekend.



[This report was started a week ago. Both Oregon and Wisconsin lost

this weekend.]



A number of you who read these reports have wondered (in writing) about

whether I'm actually doing anything other than touring around Wisconsin

and writing about it. Nope.



Actually, the professional side of my life has been pretty active

as well. (Those of you who only tuned in for the travelogue can

skip the rest of this paragraph.) I am still actively involved in

some research projects back at OGI and do a fair amount of work on

those here. I also have two PhD students I supervise, and I try to

keep on top of what they are doing. I've already made two trips back

to Oregon for research group and student meetings, and will probably

go back at least once more before the holidays. I have also gotten

involved in a couple research projects here. I am coaching a group

of students who are revising the data model for the Paradise database

system, and am also putting my 2 cents in on a project involving

dissemination of information via high-bandwidth satellite links.

These two projects are led by Dave DeWitt and Jeff Naughton. I have other

grand plans for the year as well. I hope to get a first draft of a book

done on object databases that I am working on with Stan Zdonik. I've been

spending time on it daily when I'm in town, but need to devote more

hours a day to it if it's going to get done by June. I am taking a

graduate course in operating systems, as the course I had in graduate

school was a very lopsided treatment of the area and in any case is

20 years out of date. I also have a goal of learning the Java language,

but only recently have gotten to the point where I actually figured out

how to run programs on my computer at school. I am learning Windows NT

and software tools in that environment, and trying to read a bit more

broadly in the academic and technical literature. But I try not to

let any of this interfere too much with our explorations of the state.



A lot of attractions around here shut down after October, so Kaye and

I figured out we better see Taliesin soon if we didn't want to wait

for spring. Tailesin was Frank Lloyd Wright's sometimes residence,

sometimes summer home in Spring Green, west of Madison. I've been

looking into the name "Taliesin" in preparation for the visit, and

also heard explanations of it on our tour. Taliesin is a figure in

Welsh legends that date back to the 6th century, though they weren't

written down until the 13th century. One source I read identified him

as a Druid member of King Arthur's court who sang the praises of art.

During the tour we heard an elaborate story of his conception and

birth involving a witch, a cauldron and a magic potion. The Welsh

connection was surely one reason FLW chose the name, as his mother's

side of the family came from Wales. But the name also means "Shining

Brow" in old Welsh (he was born with a wet head in the legend), and

I saw a recorded interview with Wright where he explained that he

had built his house into the brow of the hill rather than on top

of the very crest so as to blend with the landscape rather than dominate

it.



Wright spent the early years of his life in Madison, and as a young

boy was sent out to his uncle's farm near Spring Green in the summer. He

didn't take to farmwork immediately, runnng away four times on his first

visit. But over time he grew fond of the area and looked forward to his

time there. It's a stunning site, with views in all directions of

fields and wooded hills, the Wisconsin River nearby and

a man-made pond down below. Most of the view was part of his uncle's

property at one time, which likely explains his quote, "The best

way to preserve your view is to own it."



Wright spent a couple of years at University of Wisconsin, working with

a professor of engineering (civil?). It's not clear to me if he was

ever formally a student. The professor oversaw construction projects

on campus, and Wright's first bit of design was a bracket to join the

roof girders of the Red Gym, which was then under construction.

(The Red Gym is currently being renovated--I should go see if the

brackets are visible.)



Wright went from Madison to Chicago, where he worked for the firm

of Louis Sullivan. He married and had four kids there. He started

doing some freelance house design on the side, which got him fired,

and led to a falling out with Sullivan that wasn't patched up until

many years later. He left his family behind, took up a mistress

(eventually his second wife) and moved back to Wisconsin. (I'm not

completely clear on the order of those events.) He built his house,

Taliesin, on his uncle's farm in Spring Green, along with many other

structures over the years: a windmill, a house for his sister, the

Hillside School for his aunts who were running a private school, a

family chapel for the Lloyd's (his mother's family) and a restaurant

(which is now the visitors center, but still houses a cafe). He

also moved a number of the existing farm buildings together and

remodeled and extended them.



Taliesin itself had living quarters for Wright and his immediate

family, his personal studio, living quarters for staff (I think),

and more farm buildings. The living quarters burnt down twice and

were rebuilt. Once they were set afire by a deranged servant and

once there was an electrical fire. If you know where to look up through

the light fixtures, you can see charred rafters next to newer ones.

We got to see the interior of his studio and living quarters, plus

the exterior of the rest. Wright tried to erase distinctions between

inside and outside the house, and he considered the patios and breezeways

as much a part of the house as the interior rooms. There must be a

dozen places to get from inside to outside, through French doors,

onto balconies, through sliding windows. Many of Wright's possessions,

furniture and books are still there. Kaye was especially interested

in his Pima baskets, which she got one of the guides (who was wearing

white gloves) to pick up and turn over. There is also a lot of

Oriental art in the house. Wright spent virtually his whole commission

from the Imperial Hotel in Tokyo on art, and used it liberally

throughout Taliesin. A lot of it was lost in the fires, but it

is still much in evidence. Wright didn't like the idea of putting

art in cases--he wanted it to be in everyday living spaces. Thus,

a lot of it isn't in great shape today, having been outdoors or

glued to walls (screens) or cut to shape (carpets).



One thing that strikes you in touring the house is that while the

design is wonderful, the actual craftsmanship is shoddy in many

places. Sloppy morterwork on the masonry, spaces in the living room

floor where you can see into the story below, wide gaps under

outside doors. There are several explanations for it. The house

was a lab in which Wright tried out ideas (sometimes before putting

them into clients' homes). It was frequently reworked and remodeled,

so maybe there was a feeling that what was being built was just

a full-scale mock-up of a design, and might give way to something

else before long. For example, the main entryway to the house was

moved from one side to the other when automobiles replaced buggies

and it was easier to bring a driveway in on the the lower level. Also,

much of the work was done by Wright's apprentices, who weren't

necessarily skilled carpenters or masons. And it might be that in

some cases Wright's engineering wasn't up to snuff. Kaye showed me

an article in the Wall Street Journal about Fallingwater that told

how one of the balconies now has temporary steel bracing because

it is sagging and cracking so badly. While there has been some

settling of the structure, the real problem seems to be that the

cantilevered floors and balconies weren't designed with enough support.



The other thing to note is that Taliesin is still in day-to-day

use by the Taliesin Fellowship. When commissions were scarce during

the depression, Wright and his third wife, Olgivanna (sp?) started

an architectural school, which continues today. The Hillside School

was no longer being used by his aunts, and a large studio was added

to it for students to work in. The fellowship members were expected

to help out on the farm in the mornings and early afternoons, and

work on their designs later in the day. The students were housed

on site, and the first design task of a new student might be to

convert a chicken coop or corn crib into living quarters. (It sounds

primitive, but the FLW-designed chicken coop we saw puts most

apartments I've seen to shame.) Once Taliesin West was built in

Arizona, the Fellowship became snowbirds, and most of them now

head to the Southwest for the winter. A few stay behind to look

after the buildings in the winter. (It must be odd to have everyone

you deal with day-to-day get up at once and move away from you.)

We saw a few of the people who stayed behind, and heard them watching

television in other rooms when we were in Wright's studio.



The shuttle bus took us back to the visitor's center by way of the

dam for the pond, and we could see the little building that used

to house a hydroplant that generated small amounts of electricity

before city power made it out to them. On the trip back, someone

asked the guide about whether The House on the Rock (not far south)

was influenced by Taliesin. The way she groaned, it was clear that

she frequently gets that question. Her theory is that THOTR was actually

a parody of Taliesin. It is known that Alex Jordan's father was

an architect, and was treated quite shabbily once by Wright when

he attempted to show Wright some of his own designs. So it may

be that Jordan's motivation to build THOTR so near to Wright had

something to do with this slight of his father. Wright thought THOTR

was a monstrosity, and went so far as to buy land down below it,

on which he planned to build something, but he never got around to

it.



On our drive back to Madison, pumpkins were much in evidence. We

stopped at a farmhouse that had them arranged in neat ranks by

price, everywhere from 50 cents (small and lopsided) to $20 (enormous

hundred-pounders). We got one for Sarah that was around $4. Nice

color, nice symmetry, and she did a good job carving it.



Seeing Taliesin has gotten me motivated to see other FLW structures

around Madison. There is the Unitarian church to see yet, some private

houses (including one used as a fraternity, I believe) and some

stonework at a park nearby. There are also houses done by other

members of the Prarie School (including one that's just a block and

a half away) and by Louis Sullivan.



Just recently, Kaye and I went to an art and craft show at the Monona

Terrace, which is the most recently completed Wright structure. It

is at the center of the Isthmus, on the shore of Lake Monona. The

first designs for it were done about 50 years ago, but it took this

long to get the business leaders and voters behind it at the same time

to actually get it built. A prophet is without honor in his own country,

I guess, but taking a mistress doesn't endear you to the locals, either.

At one point the city council put a height limit on buildings downtown,

which ruled out Wright's original design, which had two towering

cylinders on either end. We wandered around where we could, including

the rooftop gardens, but I never got the same visceral feeling I've

had in other Wright structures. Admittedly, the design has been

reworked by others and its intended use as a convention center limits

what you can do with many of the large rooms. I hope to go back sometime

and take a tour where I'll see some of the smaller rooms, and maybe

in the spring I can get a view of it from the lake, which is its best side.

(Actually, maybe I can just walk out on the lake this winter when

it freezes.)



I think Monona Terrace has been open less than a year, and I've seen

several newspaper articles and letters about how it's not available

enough to the community. It was sold to the voters as a "convention

and community center," but the arts center near the capitol seems

to serve many of the needs you'd have for the latter. I did notice

that the operators of MT now have free Wednesday afternoon concerts,

which I hear are well attended.



Our Readers Write Us



A reader who grew up near Eau Claire (Menomonie) recalls a cheer

she made up for her Catholic grade school when she was an 8th grader:



   Leinenkugel's, Leinenkugel's, that's the best beer,

   St. Joe's, St. Joe's, that's the best cheer!

   Maple Hill, Maple Hill, that's the best cream,

   St. Joe's, St. Joe's, that's the best team!



She doesn't know if Maple Hill Creamery is still around.



Also, a little more on cranberries, gleaned from a recent article in

the newspaper. Wisconsin has edged out Massachusetts as the nation's

(hence the world's) leading producer of cranberries, 2.1 million barrels

to 1.9 million barrels. The change is probably permanent, as there

just isn't space in Massachusetts for more bogs. Maine, Michigan,

British Colubmia and Quebec are now cranberry producers.