Walking Altadena: Of Hidden Gems and Poets

Ten years ago I bought a house, and thus embarked on my most meaningful and imprudent love affair to date. Think twice before you enter into a relationship with a wooden centenarian; you’d be surprised to know what’s behind and beneath that peaceful exterior.

My house was one of a series of orchard cottages back when Altadena was oranges, grapes, robber barons, bootleggers, and poets.

From 1926 to 1961, writer Hildegarde Flanner lived a few blocks south, almost a straight line, from where I live today. Her house (or “compound” would be more accurate), is alive and well. Three houses still stand, lovingly preserved by the current owners. Not preserved like they’re frozen in time – changes, improvements have been made – but the historic, poetic integrity of the place remains.

Flanner and her mother bought the property before realizing that, in these parts and in those days, the art of construction could be a casual affair. For example, various elements of the bathroom were scattered about the house, without any particular regard for convenience or privacy. It was a time when building codes were more suggestion than requirement.

They had a rude awakening the day  a shaft of sunlight pierced through the living-room wall. Back then, a rural retreat  might be nothing more than a frame of two-by-fours and some redwood boards, with all the sins of omission covered by rambling bougainvilleas. In real estate parlance, that would be called “bringing the outdoors in.”

Fortune smiled on the family when Flanner married architect Frederick Monhoff, although it took several years before her husband completed the renovations and “remodeled the kindling of the old houses” into their present shape. The main house was rebuilt with floor to ceiling windows;  from the inside, it feels like the tree-house of your dreams.

I get serious house-envy just thinking about it.

Of her handful of books of poetry and essays, “At the Gentle Mercy of Plants” is my favorite. With just a few strokes of the pen, she brings some of the artistic or quirky or just plain batty characters from earlier Altadena back to life. There’s Nicky, the Greek gardener and unrepentant gossip,  who steals gardening tools from the rich to give to the poor. The artist Kay Nielsen, Flanner’s close friend and neighbor, who is best remembered today for his animation sequences in Disney’s Fantasia. Then there’s the Hermit of the Mountains with his companions of choice, a burro and a german shepherd.

I located the Flanner compound quite by accident.  I saw a serpentine wall and made an immediate connection. Here's an excerpt from "At the Gentle Mercy of Plants," when Flanner's neighbor sees the impending structure:

“Just where is your wall going to?” Annie inquired.

I responded with pride in Fred, “Our wall is designed with certain formal irregularities. Have you ever seen a serpentine wall?”

“I have not", she said, “but I can see by the foundations that yours is going to wiggle.”

In this case, Altadena’s light hand with the building codes left a lovely legacy.