A Study in Steel

As streets go, Meyerwood Drive is quintessential Houston quirk: a curious scrap of walkable urbanism stranded between the 16 lanes of Loop 610, the concrete-bottomed Brays Bayou, a railroad track, and the city’s ubiquitous ranch house suburbia. It is a short road, dipper-shaped in plan, and mostly lined with modest townhomes faced in overly eclectic brick. But where the handle of the dipper meets the bowl is a quirk within a quirk, a masterful triptych of modernism, circa 1968, originally known as the Style in Steel Townhouses.

This building’s history is entwined with that of its more famous neighbor, the Astrodome. Talbott Wilson and his firm, Wilson, Morris, Crain & Anderson, were architects for both projects (the Astrodome was done in collaboration with Hermon Lloyd and W.B. Morgan). The townhouses were sponsored by the American Iron and Steel Institute and other industry boosters to coincide with the 1969 National Association of Home Builders conference, held at the still-new Astrodome. Much like recent 3D-printed or modular demonstration homes, these townhouses were an immersive advertisement for their construction technology, designed to showcase “the advantages of the use of steel in moderately priced residential construction.” Space-age hopes were high that steel would replace wood as the structural material of choice for homes across America.

Spoiler alert: that didn’t happen. Dimensional lumber, relentlessly cheap and flexible, has remained the god-emperor of small-scale construction, at least in the US. While this tale of fizzled disruption likely holds lessons for the challenges faced by proponents of today’s new technologies, the more pressing question is not about the future that could have been, but about the past that is. In other words, after over half a century, what is the fate of the Style in Steel Townhouses?

A few years ago, this fate was looking grim. While the flanking single-story townhomes had been renovated by conservation-conscious owners, the center unit had suffered a series of egregious modifications. The louvered front porch had been completely enclosed—a thermal disaster, to say nothing of aesthetics—and a gable roof slapped on, complete with bubble skylights. It appeared that this icon of regional modernism was destined to gradually be diluted by bric-a-brac into nondescript Houston vernacular.

Enter Philip and Mandy LeBlanc. Newly empty nesters and active members of Houston Mod, they heard through the midcentury grapevine that the center unit might soon be on the market. After years of will-they-won’t-they, the previous owners finally put the unit up for sale. The LeBlancs acquired the property in 2020 and, against the background of COVID-19, promptly began an intensive restoration.

As any preservationist—outside a few fundamentalists—will tell you, restoration is full of nuance. While there is an entire subdiscipline of architecture devoted to these nuances, for the LeBlancs, the challenge was straightforward: restore the modernist integrity of the home while maintaining livability and staying judicious about cost. 

Like all good simplicity, this ethos birthed radical results, some that would shock a typical homeowner: they reduced square footage by demolishing the furnished attic and re-exposing the patio, removed a functioning elevator, and reverted an enclosed garage back to a carport. These big moves, essential to restoring the overall reading of the building, were combined with finer attention to restorative detail. The original brick landscaping was painstakingly rebuilt, and the patio louvers, which had been installed (or reinstalled) backwards, were restored to their shade-enhancing orientation. 

First and Second Floor Plan

1

Entrance

2

Courtyard 1

3

Living Room

4

Dining Room

5

Study

6

Mechanical Room

7

Kitchen

8

Courtyard 2

9

Garage

10

Bedroom 1

11

Bedroom 2

12

Bedroom 3

13

Mechanical Room

Nevertheless, some things were not brought back to their original state. A previous addition to the kitchen and bathroom was left as is, and new appliances, casework, and countertops were put in. Double-paned glazing was installed, with meticulous effort to hew close to the original mullion dimensions. Mostly, these alterations are subtle and don’t affect the impression of the original structure, with one exception. A small, square, white stucco awning over the front door was retained. The choice not to remove this small addition encapsulates the preservation thesis of the project: restore the original intent, but if a latecomer improves the habitability of the structure and can be incorporated into said intent, then it is welcome to stay.

Ultimately, the project strikes a thoughtful balance between conservation and livability. Moments of intimate modern brilliance are brought back to life, especially the shaded patio, reopened to the elements (and, inevitably, to the roar of 610, though thanks to the visual barrier of the louvers, a positive thinker might be able to imagine the sound to be the peaceful thrum of ocean waves just outside their door). But devotion to the past is not allowed to become a hindrance to the continued function of the building. After all, it is an especially vital strain of preservation that strives to continue original uses over decades, not just forms. The fact that this modern house remains a modern house, inhabited by its restorers, neither subsumed by thoughtless modifications nor calcified into a museum, is perhaps its greatest triumph.