Tour Architect Ken Pursley's 1950s Saul Edelbaum Home in Charlotte, North Carolina (2024)

When my wife, Sarah, and I outgrew our Colonial-inspired home, I had only two requirements of our next dwelling. The first was rooted in pragmatism: more bathrooms. Four family members using one bathroom was making for a challenging start to the day. The second request was more aspirational: I wanted a house I could learn from. In our previous home, most of the design interest came through me in the form of clever paint schemes, reworked surfaces, and cobbled-together decoration. The room and window arrangements were thoughtful but fairly vanilla. As an architect, I found the conversations with the home hosting me to be mostly one-sided. The host was polite but didn’t contribute much to the discussion.

The flat-roofed, midcentury gem here in Charlotte, North Carolina, that we landed in needed a little polish, but underneath the grit, it had a rich personality. Because of its less-than-pristine condition, it was placed on the State Preservation Office’s list of endangered properties. Had we not purchased it during the economic downturn, the house would have likely fallen victim to a developer building as many McMansions as would fit uncomfortably on its oversize lot.

The home was custom designed by Saul Edelbaum out of New York City for Herman and Anita Blumenthal. They were leading philanthropists in Charlotte’s arts community, and this home was an outgrowth of their passion for unique objects. Built in 1952, in a town not noted for its forward-thinking design aesthetic, this International Style dwelling must have seemed otherworldly. The Blumenthals lived in the home until their passing, and other than a Miami Vice-inspired face-lift in the late 1990s, it was in fairly original condition. Yet one had to look past the pink swirls and fogged-up windows to see the true spatial beauty that existed in the design. Time was not kind to the “skin” of the house, but the “bones” remained strong.

Unlike its more traditional Colonial and Georgian-style neighbors, from the street, its self-evasive facade didn’t smile kindly to the viewer. If my mother’s mantra of “if you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all” was reflected in this house, I would say it was choosing not to say much. It wasn’t being rude to those outside its walls, but it wasn’t particularly friendly either.

This relationship to the street is one of the interesting things about modernism, especially when compared to more traditionally inspired designs. At its best it is mysterious and coy. At its worst it can be argumentative and blustery. Often modern architecture, or at least its creators, takes a contrarian view of the world. In making a statement against the norm, the message is broadcast so boldly it offends those within its realm. In a civic setting, one is forced to listen, whether or not one agrees with what is being said. For these reasons, the more poetic prose in modern architecture is often missed.

Fortunately, the house we chose was of the soft-spoken variety. The genius of the house, as with all thoughtful modernism, lies on the inside. It dispels the traditional notion of the facade being an accurate indicator of architectural competence. It’s not how a building looks from the outside but rather how it feels on the inside that merits its worth.

The heart of this home is the living space. Floor-to-ceiling glass allows a seamless connection to the outdoors and offers a gracious portal through which each season can be enjoyed. To imbue it with additional energy, I pulled the cooking function into this social realm. I call this the “Japanese Steakhouse” plan. The cook and guests are able to easily interact, but the cleaning tasks happen “backstage” in the large working pantry through a glass-and-vinyl-clad pivot door. This allows the hosts and guests to maintain full visual and audible connection and marries the functional and social realms that are essential to the success of the space.

After living here for almost a decade, I can say my hope of being in a home that would teach and challenge me has been fulfilled. The dialogue between old and new has been rich and thought-provoking. Like any healthy relationship, we have made each other better. This home’s wisdom is part of my dialect now, and I eagerly await the stories yet to come.

This feature originally appeared in the May/June 2021 issue of VERANDA. Interior Design by Ken Pursley and Bronwyn Ford; architectural renovation by Ken Pursley; photography by William Abranowicz and Brie Williams (portrait and exterior); styling by Anita Sarsidi; written by Ken Pursley.