The Lustron House
“I will build my house of straw. I will build my house of sticks.
I will build y house of……...”
Steel maybe?
After the World War II, many families had to “double-up”
with other family members.
My dad slept on a couch
in his parent’s home after fighting his way through Europe under General
Patton. There
just were not enough houses for all the returning vets and their families. Carl
Strandlund, a production engineer from Chicago and successful inventor, thought
he found a way to address the problem. The Lustron House was born.
Everyone
likes a maintenance-free home. The Lustron House was the real deal. These prefabricated
houses were almost indestructible, and most of them are still around. Fifty made
it into National Register of Historic Places.
They
were made of porcelain-coated stainless steel—inside and out. Take out your
garden hose to clean it. No painting needed. The homes are not damaged by
termites, remain unaffected by decay, or rodents and are fire-resistant. Modern
interiors featured closets, cupboards, overhead radiant heat, and storage in
every room. The buffet had a pass-through to the dining area. There was a built-in
mirror and shelf in the living room and the master bedroom had a vanity, with
large drawers and overhead storage. Bedrooms had sliding doors. The Thor
washing machine was a real homemaker pleaser. It doubled as a dish washer or
clothes washer – just switch the racks and tubs. Pick your model: The
Westchester, Westchester Deluxe, the Newport, or the Meadowbrook. Each had
a two or three-bedroom plan. A one-car garage was available in 1949. The
“Deluxe” version featured the built-ins.
Twelve
tons of solid steel were loaded onto customized trucks at the one million
square foot production plant in Columbus, Ohio that occupied 106 acres of land.
Once on the job site, a certified contractor needed about one thousand hours of
labor to put it up. It was a house in a big box so-to-speak. All
the components arrived at one time. While architects designed the models, many
of Lustron’s industrial designers previously worked in the auto industry. They
did not think like house builders. Interior panels in the home, for example,
reflected the styling found in autos of this time and the plant itself operated like an auto assembly line. Raw materials
were brought in on one end and a house came out of the other. You just had to
put it together.
Lustron houses were highly engineered, which
presented a challenge for the approved builder who was provided a manual of
instructions for each model. Think
assembling children’s toys – a couple of bicycles maybe – on Christmas morning,
only on a much bigger scale.
I think of it as a gigantic Erector Set
with 30,000 parts.
Over
50,000 people walked through a model Lustron Home in Chicago in 1948 and there
were crowds of vets and families looking at Lustron models in other states.
Sadly, despite plans to sell several thousand
of these prefabricated structures, only about 2,500 were built and the company
closed its doors in 1950. Financial problems that caused the
company’s demise were complicated, maybe politically tainted, and posed a
terrible blow to Lustron’s large Ohio workforce, and to the dreams of those waiting
for their home. The Reconstruction Finance Corporation, a U.S.
Government agency, pulled the plug on the company’s loans.
Yes,
Lustron Co. is gone, but most Lustron houses are still around, impervious to
wear and tear. A realtor recently pitched one to a prospective buyer:
“You
must love the Lustron quality. The house features two bedrooms, two baths, a
lower level with a den, and storage. It is two blocks from downtown, the
football field, and a nearby lake. It is spacious! It is efficient! This
compact 2,100-square-foot home from 1950 just shines.” Well at least in the sunlight.
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