A Revival in Manoa
In the late 1800s, Colonial Revival architecture swept the nation. Inspired by centennial exhibitions honoring the 100th anniversary of the United States, the design movement was a way to celebrate America’s colonial heritage and the aesthetics of the Revolutionary War period. Back then, America’s early architecture largely emulated Great Britain’s Georgian style, which was known for symmetrical facades, tall windows, hip roofs, and a sense of openness. These qualities resulted in homes that were noble and distinguished, often accented with pedimented doorways, columns, fanlights, Palladian windows, and other elaborate features.
For many, Colonial Revival represented a window to the past. In short, it was the perfect design style for Reverend George A. Johnston Ross and his wife, Caroline, who built a home in Manoa in 1928. Ross, who previously ministered at churches and universities in both England and the United States, had settled in Hawai‘i and taught a Bible study class at the old Central Union Church at Beretania and Richards Streets, where the State Capitol stands today. Ross and his wife lived in their home until their passing. Nearly a century later, the house’s subsequent occupants decided to restore the prestigious property, now listed on the Hawai‘i Register of Historic Places and recognized as a strong example of the Colonial Revival style in Hawai‘i (and adapted for island life).
“This particular home has been occupied by the same family for three generations, so there are memories of grandparents and parents and now the next generation. It was Tutu’s home and now the owner is Tutu,” says Marion Philpotts-Miller, partner and principal of Philpotts Interiors. Years ago, her mother, Mary Philpotts McGrath, worked with the current homeowner’s parents to renovate the property. When Philpotts-Miller’s team began working on the restoration process, that family connection added a special significance to the project.
But in the decades since this historic Manoa residence had been built, it needed much more than a new roll of carpet or fresh coat of paint. Termite damage and years of sanding had taken its toll on the hardwood floors. Cast iron plumbing had begun to rot away. Throughout the rooms, original windows were dilapidated and needed fixing. The kitchen and bathrooms required new fixtures, tiling, and cabinetry. Perhaps the most critical objective was simply ensuring that the building retained its character and sense of homely grandeur; a tribute to mornings spent cooking with mom in the kitchen or gathering with siblings on the upper deck to watch sunsets in the summertime.
The Philpotts team kept the home’s legacy in mind as they worked. A traditional French gas stove with polished brass trim by La Cornue was installed in the kitchen. Historically accurate penny tile was laid underfoot with 1828, the year of the home’s completion, incorporated into the design. Dozens of old National Geographic issues were used to fill a wall of bookshelves in one of the upstairs bedrooms, the bright yellow covers complementing the room’s rich blue furniture and bedspread. Unique touches, such as an elegant clawfoot tub in the bathroom, helped convey a feeling of antique charm made new again. Distinctive elements, such as a mounted airplane propeller and an antique telescope, honored the owner’s grandparents’ interest in travel and sense of adventure. Small pieces added meaningful touches; for example, a new Koa bench (“the owner calls it ‘Tutu’s bench’,” says Philpotts-Miller) in the entrance hall became a place where the owner could sit with her grandkids, help them put on their shoes or a jacket, and build memories. The grandparents’ citizenship certificates were framed and hung on the wall, alongside the house’s original blueprints.
To assist with the structural restoration of the home, Philpotts-Miller turned to MASON Architects, whose team began their work from the ground up. Throughout the house, nearly every room contained a different type of wood — Douglas fir in the bedrooms, oak in the hallways, mahogany for the stairs and handrails — and each required matching new wood with the house’s historic finishes to achieve a seamless blend. The downstairs floors, made of Native Hawaiian Ohia wood from the home’s original construction, couldn’t be refinished because decades of wear had reduced the surface to only three-eighths of an inch thick. “Around that time, we suddenly received a call from Pacific American Lumber, saying they had 1,200 square feet of Ohia from the Big Island. I told them we had a home with 1,190 square feet of Ohia floors that needed to be replaced… It was one of those things that was just meant to be,” says Barbara Shideler, principal and historical architect at MASON Architects.
MASON worked with Ching Construction, who brought master carpenters out of retirement to work on specialty fixes not conventionally performed in modern construction, such as putty glazing historic windows. Though some of the windows themselves could be restored, many others needed to be replaced entirely; Robert Marcos Inc. fashioned new double hung windows with weighted pockets to match the originals, as well as assorted cabinets and countertops. Instead of installing surface mounted conduits to conceal wires, MASON opened walls to rewire the home, exactly how it might have been done if the home was being built today.
It’s a deceptively intricate renovation, especially considering the process took place amid COVID lockdown and physical distancing. (Luckily, most of the materials and appliances were sourced before the supply chain shortages began.) “Carpenters and electricians couldn’t be in the same space at the same time. The owners also couldn’t fly here, so there was a bit of me walking around the house while on a Zoom [video] call to show them the progress,” says Shideler, with a chuckle.
“It was really important for these owners to have a home they can share and pass down. So many get demolished or sold; this home can go on to the owners’ children and grandchildren and the legacy continues.”