Foyer of the former Macon Telegraph (1961, Hall & Ferguson), in Macon, Ga.Walter Elliot/Walter Elliot
As author James E. Barfield trots up the steps of Macon, Ga.’s 1842 Inn, he points to a corner window.
“I used to live there in the 1970s,” he says, adding that, before the antebellum house was converted into a hotel, it contained rental apartments. These days, he lives in a grand home just down the road, and knows more about historic Macon than most people after having penned a number of books on its architecture.
To hear Mr. Barfield talk, one gets the sense that, despite the Georgia city’s renewed commitment to tourism, new restaurants, and downtown loft conversions, it still boasts small town qualities; it continues to be a place where the buildings and places that mark the different decades of one’s life still stand.
And the same applies with the city’s small yet impactful grouping of mid-century modern buildings, which happens to be the topic of Mr. Barfield’s new book (which features the expert photography of Walter G. Elliott), Mid-Century Macon 1945-1969: they’re all still here, albeit some in better shape than others. And because buildings that are (usually) more than 100 years old outnumber them a 100 to one, they also seem to cluster together for protection.
Town Pavilion Motel (1960), designed by New Orleans-born Bernard Webb.Dave LeBlanc/The Globe and Mail
Mr. Barfield begins our architour, fittingly, near the Ocmulgee River and the industrial part of town. Here, floating above its parking lot, is the former 100-room Town Pavilion Motel (1960), a swoopy concrete affair designed by New Orleans-born Bernard Webb (1915-2000), who worked for Macon’s Ellamae E. League (more on her later) from 1936 to 1941 and then, after the war, returned to Macon to set up his own shop in 1946.
Just down the road is the vacant-since-2013 headquarters of the Macon Telegraph (1961, Hall & Ferguson). “And I’m going take the time for you, because you’re crazy about terrazzo, to let you go and peer through that glass into the lobby.” I’m glad he does, because the curved staircase is spectacular. A report from June, 2021, suggests the building’s future might be less-spectacular storage units.
Our second destination takes us across the river to the winding and deeply wooded streets of the Shirley Hills Historic District to see a cluster of spectacular MCM homes. Developed by an employee of Frederick Law Olmsted in 1921 on a former estate, we stop in first on a friend of Mr. Barfield’s. Interestingly, she lives in a house not designed by the small cadre of Macon modernists, but rather by Harry (Bo) McEwen, who usually designed in the “classic” style but obliged his clients with a somewhat safe, sprawling ranch style with hints of Frank Lloyd Wright.
“I think he did very well for somebody who is not known for his mid-century modern,” Mr. Barfield says. “Bo McEwen did a lot of good architecture, but then he had opportunities in Tampa and he moved there and became very well known in the late 20th century.”
We next pull over to admire the house Joe and Mary Jane League had built in 1950. While only a carport and row of clerestories are visible from the road, the little house, designed by Joe’s sister, Jean League Newton (their mom was Ellamae League), is important for being celebrated in Progressive Architecture magazine in 1953 and, more recently, for being the first modernist house in Macon to be individually listed on the National Register of Historic Places.
Ellamae League house.Dave LeBlanc/The Globe and Mail
Ellamae League’s own house, from 1941, is next. Born in 1899, League came from a line of architects – all men – but didn’t see why she couldn’t join the profession, so, in 1922, the single mother of two began apprenticing at Dunwody and Oliphant; and since she was something of a novelty, she made regular appearances in the local newspapers. While the home is “pre-mid-century modern” and certainly looks more like a Laurel Canyon/bohemian cabin in the woods, Mr. Barfield invites us to peek in the window (it’s okay, the home is now owned by the Historic Macon Foundation) to see the contrast. And what a contrast: crisp clean trim and flooring, a mirrored wall over the sleek fireplace, a pair of Brno chairs and a large, gridded window.
A peek into Ms. League's house.Dave LeBlanc/The Globe and Mail
From Ms. League to Cher and Andy Warhol: well, a 1964 house on the opposite end of Shirley Hills that once played host to legendary parties by Capricorn Records founder Phil Walden when he owned it in the 1970s. Designed by Macon-born Jackson (Jack) Riley Holliday (1922-2003), it’s striking for its zoomy butterfly-shaped carport in front, and its three-storey tall window in the rear.
Mr. Barfield walks toward Walden House.Dave LeBlanc/The Globe and Mail
The back of Walden House.Dave LeBlanc/The Globe and Mail
“Unfortunately I was not invited to any of the Capricorn Records parties here,” says Mr. Barfield, a former history teacher, with a laugh. “Although I met, and was with, Gregg Allman a few times.”
Back over the river, we tour the Ingleside neighbourhood, which contains the “most mid-century modern street in town,” North and South Hillandale Circle, but stop first at 373 Vista Circle to see Jack Holliday’s own 1959 house. Described by Mr. Barfield in the book as the “epitome of mid-century modern,” it’s a low-slung, post-and-beam stunner on that boasts warm brick on the outside and a floating terrazzo stair on the inside. “The Cherokee Brick and Tile Co. [in Macon] kept a special supply of this brick for Jack Holliday because he used it on a number of houses,” he says.
Mr. Barfield in front of 373 Vista Circle.Dave LeBlanc/The Globe and Mail
Interior of 373 Vista Circle.Walter Elliot/Walter Elliot
Interior of 373 Vista Circle.Walter Elliot/Walter Elliot
A Jack Holliday-designed commercial building.Walter Elliot/Walter Elliot
We next cruise N. and S. Hillandale to see many of the houses featured in the book; while many are relatively conservative on the outside, particularly striking is a 1959 Jack Holliday with a tall post-and-beam gable, and one by architect Bill Thompson, which features a lush, interior courtyard.
Jack Holliday, 1959, tall post and beam gable.Walter Elliot/Walter Elliot
We end our architour, fittingly, by visiting Mr. Barfield’s friend – and the book’s photographer – Walter Elliott at his home nearby. Lower than the street, the 1951 Bernard Webb-designed home presents itself as a dramatic series of flat-roofed pavilions. After asking our opinion on some new flooring, Mr. Elliott gives us the grand tour; notable is the massive brick fireplace and the sliding doors that are still adorned with New Yorker magazine covers applied by the home’s first owner, Vera Heck. Since Mr. Elliott purchased from the Heck family, even the colour scheme of chartreuse and Chinese red remains.
Walter Elliot's house, exterior.Dave LeBlanc/The Globe and Mail
Interior of Mr. Elliot's house.Walter Elliot/Walter Elliot
Interior of Mr. Elliot's house.Walter Elliot/Walter Elliot
“When I was four years old, my mother and I were driving by here – the house had just been built – and I said ‘Mom, look at this house, isn’t it neat?’ and she said ‘Well, everyone to their own tastes said the old lady as she kissed the cow.’ I said ‘You don’t like it do you?’ and she said ‘It’s too moderne.’”
A building that marked Mr. Elliott’s early life, now his to treasure and protect.