1949. A home designed and built by Marines in West Los Angeles! Photos by Julius Shulman

THIS is the story of a most heart-warming and inspiring endeavor which resulted in the building of a house-a very wonderful house-with promise of many more to come. First of all, however, it's the story of two young men, capable, intelligent, who are fired with an unselfish desire and determination to help fellow veterans realize that long-anticipated dream of a home of their own. Gordon Drake and Louis Soltanoff are two fellows with a plan. Through their efforts the housing hopes of many discouraged G.I.'s are getting a blood transfusion. Their promises are not those of medicine man or witch doctor. An enthusiasm and firm belief in such a cause is inspirational, especially when compared to an existing philosophy of take-while-and-what-you-can which never ceases to amaze one's more refined sentiments.

Gordon Drake is a graduate architect, and Louis Soltanoff is a graduate mechanical engineer. Both are ex- Marines and fighters. They can take the grief and problems connected with present-day building conditions straight and undiluted; they can stand more beating than thin cream. It was their firm contention that the cost of building houses could be telescoped, one major step being the employing of veteran labor. But now we're getting ahead of our story. Early in the war, Drake heard a great deal of talk among his fellow Marines about the homes they were planning after fighting ceased. Being an architect, he wanted to help them but realized that he needed someone to work with-someone to construct the houses he would design. This someone would want to build with the same spirit and should possess engineering ability. He and Soltanoff were in the same bat- talion, trained to go overseas at San Diego. They had met casually, and were together in the Pacific before their mutual ideals came to light. Many of the men had often discussed the possibility of postwar inflation and its effects on future building. They realized that conditions following any war are as unpredictable as winter weather, and admitted that prices usually had an inclination to caper. Things generally seemed to move but one way, and that was back. Gordon observed Louis' keen deductions in these loose-leaf bull sessions and his interest in talking with men who were laying foundation plans for building with the money they were then saving.

One evening after the rest had left, the two friends recognized in each other a kindred desire to stave off the disappointment of the men about them not only their own friends and acquaintances, but men in the Service everywhere who would want homes. Each one, they reflected, would return home with only a few thousand dollars saved. Chicken feed this would be, and not very fattening at that, in case of high building costs. They even went so far that night as to discuss the possibility of one individual's con- tribution to such a large problem. Though he was an engineer, Soltanoff was not content to just sit in an office and draw lines. Actual on-the- job construction work was his meat. Neither Drake nor Soltanoff, however, suggested the possibility of working together on the problem.

Gordon Drake comes to a boil slowly; Soltanoff weighs matters just as deliberately. They had considerable time on their hands and met often after that. Partly to keep busy, Drake drew a few house plans and showed them to his confidant for criticism. After a few starts, both realized that they were actually getting somewhere. A couple of fellows, they joked, couldn't waste their bosses' time to better advantage. Seriously though, both knew that they were going to build houses together for veterans once war had ended. Before matters had been completely decided, their ways parted. Drake, Captain of an Assault Engineer Company, went to one island. Soltanoff, Major in Amphibian Tractors, was assigned to another. Before they left, though, they came to an agreement and promised their friends that they'd build houses at a reasonable cost and, if inflation reared its ugly head, there'd be a loud, shrill squeak issuing from the better mousetrap.

When the war ended, Soltanoff, on his way home, heard that Gordon Drake was building a theater for servicemen on Maui. He had welcomed the suggestion of a superior officer and accepted the challenge to take his men on a construction job after months spent on destructive explosive problems. The theater had already been started when Drake was asked to take over but, for some reason, work had been interrupted. Since instructions were that the building had to be completed in three weeks, the new supervisor's only request was that he be allowed to continue without interference and be given all men, tractors, and bulldozers needed. Twenty-one days later the theater was opened and Soltanoff was on hand for the premiere. It was an occasion for honest rejoicing for more reasons than one.

The two friends had but a few hours in which to reaffirm their faith in their former plans, and decided to meet later in California to start building homes. Naturally, a lot, equipment, and building materials were the first realities to be acquired. They decided to build the first house themselves, to prove that they could do it at a reasonable figure. An inexpensive hillside lot was purchased- one that ran straight up and down an embankment of rock foundation. The going was tough from the start. With picks, shovels, and wheelbarrows, plus plenty of brawn, they carried out the equivalent of three freight cars of dirt and rock. It took four months to complete the house, itself, at the amazing cost of $4,500. This includes all built-in features, so that extra purchases of two occasional chairs, floor mats, four diningroom chairs and a coffee table were enough to furnish the house. These few pieces, plus paintings, sculpture, and fabrics for the sofa, bed, and bedroom curtains, amounted to only $300.

The exterior is covered with plywood, with horizontal wood siding used on all inside walls. It is both simple and charming and, instead of bringing the outdoors inside, seems to reverse the process and take the interiors into the terrace and gardens. A gallery runs along one full side, opening up with seven-foot wide glass doors onto the terrace. Though the living room is but twelve by eighteen, there's a most spacious feeling due to the many vistas which meet the eye at every turn. The wall between living room and kitchen is a good example of how small dimensions may appear to spread out. Instead of a solid wall, the division is freestanding with a structural grille for easy serving. You can't see into the kitchen when seated in the living room but, instead, look through the grille beyond a kitchen door into the gal- lery and terrace. Clerestory windows, up at the ceiling line, give an uninterrupted view of the sky, trees, and hills beyond.

The house is built on a concrete slab into which ducts have been ingeniously laid and which carry forced hot air for heating. One large duct runs the length of the house on one side, with smaller ducts leading across the width of the house to another large duct. This, in turn, carries the air, as it cools, back to the centrally located heater. The floor thus remains evenly heated to 85 degrees.

To the two ex-Marines, this house proved that their plan would work. The next step was to build for other veterans. From a long waiting list of veterans eager to join Soltanoff's construction crew, a group was picked to help build this second project. It is finished now and, because it is larger, cost $6,000. Several others are now under way, ranging from a one room, kitchen and bath job for Mr. Soltanoff, himself, which he estimates will cost $1,500, to one similar to the first which, though smaller, will have more usable space and is scheduled to cost $4,000. The spirit behind the project is refreshing.

Mr. Drake runs his designing department entirely separate from the Soltanoff setup. Only veterans are employed on the construction crews. None had ever built a house before. Working directly under the head engineer are three former Marines, an Army engineer, and a concert pianist. They are called "phase men," each being trained in the work for which he is best suited. As they build more and more houses, these men will each become supervisors who will then take charge of new groups of veterans.

Outstanding workers will then, in turn, be trained as "phase men." Each man is imbued with the spirit that better ways of building must be found and for less money. An owner is encouraged to work on his own house whenever possible; he, therefore, appreciates every board and stone in it since he takes part in its growth. Personal relationships are strong and binding. Each feels that he is building and protecting a man who wants and needs a home. They are also learning a valuable trade. The two pioneers are already looking to more ambitious fields. They feel that houses like these, when machine processed, can be done better and at a much lower cost. In the meantime, however, they realize that at present there's a desperate need for shelter, especially for those who've just returned from overseas duty and are starting life anew. This job is most important. Once over the emergency, there'll be wider fields to tackle and new standards of building established.