I grew up in the heyday of mid-century modern architecture, but I never really appreciated the style. My family’s house in North Plymouth was a one-story ranch home that was built, along with several others, by my grandfather, George Fornaciari. It was stylized to look like a Cape, with symmetrical window placement on the front facade, but the interiors were right out of a 1950s mid-century modern catalog.
It featured streamlined kitchen cabinets, a patterned vinyl kitchen floor, pink tiled bathroom, and a feature wall in the living room of birch paneling. It was furnished with a mix of mid-century modern furniture and mahogany colonial reproductions.
It was my home as a kid and perhaps that’s why I never felt any affinity for mid-century modern furniture and architecture. My parents apparently felt the same way, because in the late 70s they put a proper Cape style roof on the house (adding two bedrooms and a bath upstairs). They also remodeled the kitchen with the classic 1970s color scheme of cherry cabinets, orange counter tops, and avocado-colored appliances (which remained in good working order until we sold the house in 2010). This remodel erased all traces of its previous mid-century modern appearance.
Mid-century modern just didn’t speak to me. So when a former employee and her spouse were on the hunt for furniture pieces for her home, I would shake my head in disbelief. One of the furniture lines they sought was Heywood-Wakefield. I’m sure you’ve seen it. Typically, it features blond wood and rounded edges. It also has ties to Plymouth (that’s a story for another article). Friends in Provincetown also had a house entirely furnished with H-W pieces. I just didn’t get the allure.
That changed in 2018 when a Cedarville house hit the real estate market. Located not far from White Cliffs Country Club, the home looked like it was pulled through a time machine. It was a simple rectangular box with a mono-sloped roof. It featured high, long, thin transom windows on the front elevation and walls of full-length glass on the rear elevation. Exposed roof beams were spaced about eight feet on center and extended to the exterior to give the home a deep overhang. Inside, the original flagstone floor remained as well as turquoise-colored appliances. I was obsessed.
I had done architectural work in the neighborhood but only then realized most of the subdivision featured a collection of mid-century modern homes. It wasn’t a mecca like Palm Springs, Calif., or some of the famous neighborhoods in Lexington and Lincoln outside Boston, but it was a small collection of homes dedicated to that period. I began a quest to learn as much as I could about who designed it, who planned it, and who the builder was.
Town records yielded little. Searches on several mid-century modern websites also turned up empty. It was only when I took to Facebook and posted on the “Plymouth Remembering When” group that I hit pay dirt. The inquiry received over 140 responses and answered a lot of questions.
The land was purchased in 1937 by a couple from Boston’s North End, Louis and Adelina Cavicke. World War II halted development plans, which didn’t resume until the 1950s. Named Cedarville Landing, the new subdivision featured homes designed by a Cambridge architect and offered what were then state-of-the-art amenities. I still haven’t discovered the architect’s name but close to a dozen homes were designed and built in a variety of styles and sizes. Most of them remain, many intact, with some remodeled and expanded.
Finally, I discovered almost by accident who the original builder was. In a conversation with my uncle, I happened to mention these homes. To my astonishment he told me that his dad (my grandfather George) had built those homes. I asked him again to make sure he wasn’t confusing this subdivision with another subdivision of homes he had built just to the north, called Nameloc Heights.
Nameloc, contrary to current belief, is not a native name, but rather the name of the developer – Coleman – spelled backwards. The streets Janet, Florence, and Helen were named after his family members; George Street was named in honor of my grandfather.
My uncle assured me that my grandfather had indeed built the homes for Cavicke. My mid-century modern journey had come full circle.
I guess it takes age and experience to fully appreciate something that was part of your daily life as a kid. Every time a rare Plymouth mid-century home comes on the market, I pester my husband to look with me. He is quick to roll his eyes. My obsession with residential architecture, whether it’s an 18th century Cape, 19th century Victorian, early 20th century bungalow, or mid-century modern ranch, never ends.
Architect Bill Fornaciari is a lifelong resident of Plymouth (except for a three-year adventure going West as a young man) and is the owner of BF Architects in Plymouth. His firm specializes in residential work and historic preservation. Have a question or idea for this column? Email Bill at billfornaciari@gmail.com.