SAN DIEGO
COUNTY WILDFIRES
'Wings'
and, now, a prayer
Will award-winning custom home rise from the ashes?
Roger M. Showley
STAFF WRITER
November 11, 2007
Richard Matheron, a retired U.S. ambassador to several African
countries, stepped gingerly around the ruins of his 3,200-square-foot
house overlooking the San Pasqual Valley and declared the rebuilding
effort ahead as his next “adventure.”

CHARLIE
NEUMAN / Union-Tribune
All that's left of
Richard Matheron's 17-year-old house overlooking the San Pasqual
Valley is the chimney and a lap pool.
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“That's the only way to look at it,“ he said. “I'm
determined not to be depressed.“
Matheron's architect, Norm Applebaum,
also was looking to the future, even though the ashes represented
years of work on the home. The award-winning house was completed
in 1990 and had been featured in numerous magazines and on two national
TV shows. For him, losing the home known as “Wings“
came as a nightmare already lived. In 2003, one of Applebaum's
other custom homes, located in Poway, was destroyed in the Cedar
fire.
“We're going to work on the (design)
program together and start another project,“Applebaum said.
“I won't do anything at all until they give me a program
-- so many bathrooms, so many bedrooms, the living room, green materials
--whatever it is.“

Kim
Brun
Architect Norm Applebaum
designed the Matheron residence, known as "Wings,"
as a projecting redwood sentinel looking out over the San
Pasqual Valley.
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Every victim of last month's fires has similar thoughts --to
rebuild or not; to duplicate the lost structure or do something
quite different; to work within the constraints of insurance proceeds
or to invest more.
Matheron, 80, said he and his wife, Kay,
are inclined to rebuild on the site, even though he could imagine
starting over in a high-rise condo downtown within walking distance
of Copley Symphony Hall.
“I've been lucky to have a roof
over my head,“he said, as he thought back to his postings
over a 30-year career as a foreign service officer in Ethiopa, Swaziland
and other places in Africa, Asia and Europe. “I've seen
so much suffering and horror in the world ... I'm thankful that
we don't have the problems people have in the places where I've
served.“
What was special about the Matheron house
was its custom design suited to a setting reminiscent of an African
plain. The Matherons would entertain guests by having them peer
through a telescope at the exotic animals on the open lands below,
within the San Diego Wild Animal Park, that resemble an African
habitat. The couple also had an extensive collection of African
art and books.
“I had probably one of the best collections
of traditional African art in this part of California,“he
said. He had forgotten to toss some of the items into the lap pool
in the rush to evacuate.
“It's gone. There's nothing you can say. I feel guilt
in not being able to pass on some of the objects to posterity.“
But he smiled when asked if the next year
or more of planning and rebuilding will require multiple trips abroad
to collect new items to put in the new house.
And there are the new state-of-the-art,
high-tech gadgets to order and a chance to build in a sustainable
way. Long ago, Kay wrote a paper in high school about solar power,
and Richard said she will insist on installing photovoltaic panels
that had not become affordable in 1990.
“It'll give me something to do,“he
added, as his wife continues her grant-writing job at Interfaith
Community Services in Escondido.
The Matherons originally found the site
in 1981, when they were on leave from Swaziland and touring of the
Wild Animal Park.
Near the corner of Bandy Canyon and Sky
High roads, they spied a for-sale sign, checked the price with local
friends and real estate experts, and bought the lot. In 1986, they
were back for good and interviewing architects.
Most pulled out their résumés
and portfolios but showed little interest in the site or the Matherons'
lifestyle, Matheron said. They should have been more sensitive to
the fact that Kay then worked for the American Institute of Architects
in Washington, D.C.
Then the couple came upon a house designed
by Applebaum in La Jolla and, while they worried whether they could
afford one of his designs, hired him in 1988 for what became a $600,000
project. Applebaum also became a new best friend.
“When you hire an architect, it's
like getting married,“Matheron said.
Three months after the house was completed,
The San Diego Union's architecture critic, Kay Kaiser, wrote
a review, calling attention to the clear cedar siding, corrugated
steel roof painted the color of copper and the light pine floor
inside.
“Thanks to Applebaum's light
touch, they enjoy the rain on the metal roofs and Escondido's
occasional lightning storms,“ Kaiser wrote. “How lucky
they are to have found an architect who could connect them to these
primitive delights in a modern way.“
Over the 17 years they lived in “Wings,“the
Matherons entertained many guests; her 99-year-old father, William
Ellenberger, and a caregiver lived in the Applebaum-designed guest
house.
But on Monday, Oct. 22, five days before
the Matherons were set to fly to France and while they were entertaining
two house guests, all were ordered to evacuate in advance of the
firestorm sweeping down the valley from Ramona.
“I'm going to stay and fight
it,“Richard told firefighters.
Their reply: “You'll be all
alone. There'll be no one to help you.“
The house guests left immediately for
a road trip up the coast; Ellenberger and his caregiver drove to
an interim location in north Escondido, and Richard and Kay regrouped
at a friend's Solana Beach condo with a dozen other evacuees.
By Wednesday, they learned their house
had been consumed by the fire. On Thursday, they ventured back to
the site to see for themselves.
“We were prepared to cry. We were
prepared to lose everything,“Matheron said, but there were
no tears as he surveyed the total loss. He likened it to a scene
from Hiroshima, Japan, after the atomic bomb struck in 1945.
“t's so horrible, it's
beautiful,“ Richard recalled thinking.
The corrugated roof had collapsed and
buckled into a shape reminiscent of a Frank Gehry design. A long
steel beam lay across the living room space, bent 15 degrees from
the heat. Succulents and an assortment of California native plants
and African species were singed with perhaps had some life still.
Applebaum met the couple two days later
and helped salvage a few objects from the ashes. There were hugs
all around.
The architect said he maintains a proprietary
interest in each of the many homes around the country he has designed,
including a Rancho Santa Fe residence listed by the tax assessor
as the county's most expensive residence.
“They're like children to
me,“ Applebaum said of his houses. “It's very, very
tough.“
An advocate of plentiful use of wood
and glass, Applebaum said he would investigate incorporating more
fire-resistant materials. He's currently reviewing the original
building plans to provide a replacement cost estimate for the family's
insurance carrier. Building an all-concrete house was considered
20 years ago but deemed too costly.
“Fire itself is so powerful,“Applebaum
said. “I don't think even a concrete house, if it heats
up enough (would survive). You'd lose its strength.“
As Matheron left his dream house-turned-nightmare,
an African statue head from Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso, in west Africa,
seemed to bid a silent farewell from a step where it had been set
down after the fire.
“He always looked sad,“
Matheron said. “Now, he looks sadder.“
Roger M. Showley: (619) 293-1286; roger.showley@uniontrib.com
Home editor Carl Larsen contributed to this report.
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