By Hunter Fuentes and Jon Stordahl
And the Oscar Goes to…
The Irish author and playwright James Joyce once noted that “Mistakes are the portals of discovery.” Some of the most interesting information we have unearthed in our research of Laguna's architectural history has grown out of errors, such as newspaper typos, transposed address numbers, or changes in street names over the years. Correcting those mistakes not only sets the record straight, but often uncovers an interesting story.
The Ullman Residence. Photo provided by Hunter Fuentes.
One of the most eye-catching homes in all of Laguna is right next door to my own house on Crescent Bay Drive. If I had a nickel for every time I heard someone say, “Wow, look at that place!” I would have a lot of nickels. The home is one of a handful of Streamline Moderne residences built in Laguna in the 1930s. Moderne grew out of the Art Deco style of the 1920s. When the Great Depression began in the early 1930s, architects sought ways to preserve style while trimming costs. Moderne embraced more economical materials such as stucco, concrete, glass, and glass block without sacrificing beauty. Common elements of Moderne design include the generous use of curves, horizontal lines, flat roofs, and nautical themes, such as portholes and deck-style railings. My neighbor’s home has all of these; in fact, many call it the “Ship House.”
In the 1981 Laguna Beach Inventory of Historic Architecture, the home next door was given an “E” rating, which stands for exceptional, the highest designation possible. The house was described in the inventory narrative as “… a box plan, but a large rounded wing projects in the front” and “is two story with curved multi-paned windows and metal railing which extends to the main portion of the house.” That’s all accurate. However, the narrative went on to state, “The house was built for Mr. and Mrs. Howard Turney, a director at MGM and resident of Los Angeles. The Turneys apparently owned the house through the 1940s and possibly beyond. The architect was Aubrey St. Clair….” That is all incorrect.
The Turneys had actually commissioned Aubrey St. Clair to design my home at 141 Crescent Bay Drive, not my neighbor’s residence at 147. The confusion might have stemmed from the renumbering of house addresses in the late 1930s. A captioned sketch in the Sept. 29, 1933 edition of the South Coast News established my home’s link to the Turneys and St. Clair. But what was the real story about my neighbor’s striking home?
According to the city’s building files, the home was built for Elwood and Blanche Ullman in the fall of 1936. A letter in the file is dated Sept. 8, 1936, from the couple’s son, Furth Ullman, to the city building inspector. In that correspondence, Furth Ullman states that he drew the plans for the home. Elwood and Blanche were from St. Louis. He was a successful insurance salesman while she was a drama critic and feature writer for the St. Louis Star. They raised three sons: Furth and his older brother, Elwood Jr., both carved out careers in Hollywood. In the mid-1930s, the brothers encouraged their parents to move to the West Coast, where Furth designed the Moderne gem in North Laguna. Furth had studied art in Vienna and established himself as a set and costume designer as well as a talented interior designer. His brother, Elwood, became a successful screenwriter for Columbia Studios and RKO, specializing in screwball comedies. He wrote scripts for many of the most popular acts of the era, including Abbott and Costello, Ma and Pa Kettle, Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis, and the Three Stooges. In 1957, he was at the center of one of the most embarrassing incidents in the history of the Academy Awards. Oscar voters nominated Elwood Ullman for an Academy Award for his screenwriting work on the film ‘High Society.’ Ullman had indeed scripted a film called ‘High Society,’ but his was a two-reeler throwaway for the Bowery Boys. Academy voters had confused that film with the blockbuster starring Grace Kelly and Bing Crosby. Ullman gracefully declined the errant nomination but playfully posed for photos holding an Oscar.
Movie poster for the Ullman film, mistakenly nominated for the 1957 Oscar. Photo / IMDB.
Mark Twain famously observed that “Truth is stranger than fiction.” In one final twist to the story, the 1957 Academy Award for screenwriting went to Robert Rich for ‘The Brave One.’ But “Rich” never stepped forward to claim his statuette. In 1976, that Oscar was posthumously awarded to Dalton Trumbo, who, due to the constraints of the Hollywood Blacklist, had written the screenplay under the pseudonym “Robert Rich.” Aubrey St. Clair may not have designed the Ullman residence, but it has its own distinguished pedigree. The truth often leads to a story that may not always be strange but is often more interesting than any fiction.
