The Milwaukee Journal, April 23, 1925
“Wright’s Villa to Be Restored”
Architect Philosopher Grieves Only for Loss of Art Treasures

ike Lost Friends: “The building can always be reproduced,” he said, “but an object of art has a soul it can never be replaced. I was selfish, I suppose. I wanted to enjoy them. I surrounded myself with them. They were all about me where I and my friends could enjoy them. Had I put them away in my studio vault I would still have them. Perhaps I should have done that. But they have given me much joy. I can look back upon this joy now, at least, after the manner of one who mourns the loss of friends but remembers their smiles and the joy of their companionship.”

A defect in the buzzer system of an interhouse private telephone system is believed to have caused the fire. Mr. Wright says his housekeeper told him while he was at dinner in the part of the building containing the dining rooms, apart from his private residence, that the buzzer had been in action for 20 minutes. Thinking he had pushed a button and it had stuck, he returned to his bedroom to find the telephone stand in flames, the curtains burning and flames shooting up the inside of the slanting ceiling. He fought back the flames with bucket of water from the huge fish tank at the entrance to the dwelling and from a fountain at the end of the courtyard. The odds were too great and by the time he realized this it was too late to attempt to save any of the priceless art treasures...

Folks Call Him Queer Mr. Wright suffered considerably from smoke up his lungs and his long flowing locks were singed with in his battle with the flames. A picturesque figure the architect makes in this quiet little farming community. Despite the years that he has spent here—he played barefooted as a boy on these ancestral acres, which have become the setting for Taliesin—the country folk look askance at the goings on in the gal villa overlooking the swift moving Wisconsin river. They tell of his appearing in the village breeches rolled up to his knees, barefooted, shirt open across his chest, bareheaded, his flowing locks combed back from his face, directing his chauffeur with a cane from the sidewalk as he makes his way from shop to shop.

The most astonishing habit to the townsfolk is Wright’s constant tearing down and rebuilding portions of the villa to suit a whim or a fancy. Fourteen men were busy almost all of last summer, they say, putting up, tearing down and remodeling to suit the fancy of the master, portions of the home which has just burned.