Working With Frank Lloyd Wright: The Architect’s Last Living Client Shares His Experience With the Visionary

Portrait: Mark Hertzberg. Photo: Getty Images. Reisley is holding a photo taken by Pedro E. Guerrero, courtesy of the The Estate of Pedro E. Guerrero.

There’s no shortage of words that have been used over the years to describe Frank Lloyd Wright: brilliant, arrogant, unrivaled, cranky, inspiring, scandalous, or legendary, just to name some. But few can depict him like Roland Reisley. “He became a mentor and a friend,” the retired physicist who later worked in the electronic instrument business, tells AD.

When Reisley was just 26 years old, Frank Lloyd Wright agreed to design a home for him and his wife, Ronny, who passed away a few years back. A little under 75 years later (he just celebrated his 100th birthday), he is Wright’s last living client. “The house has been wonderful, and my life here has been good,” he says. “I think the house has contributed to my health and longevity.”

In the early 1950s, Wright was highly revered as one of, if not the best, modern American architect. By this point, he’d already designed some of his most influential works—the Guggenheim Museum, Fallingwater, and the Imperial Hotel, for example—and despite family scandals, personal tragedies, and the fact that at 80-something years old he was well into his golden years, the architect was at the top of his game. The Reisleys, newlyweds at the time, never dreamed of asking him to design their home, but it just so happened that luck was on their side.

Roland Reisley welcomes a tour group in his home.
Roland Reisley welcomes a tour group in his home.
Photo: Joel Hoglund, courtesy of Frank Lloyd Wright Building Conservancy

In 1950, the couple joined Usonia Homes, a cooperative community supervised by Frank Lloyd Wright, and chose a building site. One thing led to another, and Wright ultimately expressed interest in designing their home. “It was a remarkably good experience,” Reisley remembers. “I had a very good relationship with Frank Lloyd Wright.”

Wright’s original vision centered on a 1,800-square foot, low-slung house embedded into a small hill on the couple’s land. One of his Usonian creations, which were intended to be affordable and intertwined with the natural landscape, the residence was to be defined by a cantilevered carport and two stone masonry pillars. However, once the architect handed over the blueprints, Ronny noticed a problem. “She said there was no broom closet,” Reisley remembers. Further, there wasn’t space for the couple’s many books.

So Reisley made a decision. He would go talk to Wright at the Plaza Hotel, where the designer had an apartment, and ask for an adjustment. “It was not easy,” he says. “It was like talking to God.” As he voiced his concerns, he recalls Wright being incredibly—perhaps surprisingly—understanding. “Come on Roland, you’re my client and I’m your architect,” Reisley remembers Wright saying. “I’ll redesign your house as many times as I have to until it satisfies all of your needs. But you have to speak up.” A few decades later, Wright biographer Brendan Gill wrote of the encounter saying that if the physicist had been “ten years older and twice as self-confident, no doubt he would have elicited a very different response.”

Reisley poses in front of a photo of him and Wright at Monona Terrace.
Reisley poses in front of a photo of him and Wright at Monona Terrace.
Photo: Mark Hertzberg

Today, Reisley concedes that this assessment might be true, but, nonetheless, the conversation solidified their working relationship. “I knew to talk about needs and not stylistic preferences,” Reisley adds. “But from then on, everything went very well.” Wright even designed the couple an addition in 1956 to create more room for their growing family.

Though much of the architect’s work is documented in archival records, clients’ memories offer vital context that cannot be understood from sketches alone. Take the outdoor seating area, under which a large triangular part of the roof hangs. “I realized when we were building that it would be an ideal place for an acoustically significant loudspeaker,” Reisley says. Wright liked the idea, and recommended his client speak with a sound engineer to design the system. At the end of the 14-foot overhang are two 15-inch woofer loudspeakers, but a parallel wall had to be slightly readjusted to avoid creating standing waves, which would interfere with the sound. “So there is a slight change to the angle [Wright originally designed], and he was happy with that,” Reisley remembers.

This is just one of many stories he could tell about the months during which the residence was under construction. Perhaps most memorable, he recalls how expensive it was. “I always complained about that,” Reisley says. “I complained about the cost of things.” It wasn’t unusual for Wright’s projects to go over budget, and this home was no exception. But even when things were tight, Wright encouraged the couple to finish the home. “Building this house is one of the best things you can do. Stop if you must, and then continue when you can,” Wright told him. “I promise you’ll thank me.” Unsurprisingly, this turned out to be true. The architect even let the Reisleys defer payment when necessary. “He’d say, ‘Finish the house, pay me when you can,’” Reisley recalls.

Reisley in his home
Reisley in his home
Joel Hoglund, courtesy of Frank Lloyd Wright Building Conservancy

Over seven decades later, Reisley has had to make very few changes. “It has functioned for newlyweds, infants, toddlers, teenagers, and an empty-nest period,” he says. “I was a widower for a few years and have a new partner now. It worked very well for all of those stages.” Never once has he had a desire to switch things up. “That wasn’t necessary here, the house was just right.”

A few years ago, Reisley was reflecting on his home when he had an epiphany: Not a single day has gone by that he hasn’t seen something beautiful. “The light on the stone, the grain of the wood, or something,” he says. In fact, new research has shown that observing aesthetically pleasing things can indirectly promote health and well-being by lowering stress and improving memory. “I used to joke about that as a nice speculation, but evidence is proving that it could also be true,” he says.

Originally Appeared on Architectural Digest


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