Bringing Ben Dombar

Back to Life
Beth Johnson is rehabbing the famous Cincinnati architect’s own home and
studio, hoping to place it on the National Register of Historic Places and cement
the reputation of a Frank Lloyd Wright disciple.
 BY
Linda
Vaccariello

PAGE 47

PHOTOGRAPHS BY
Devyn
Glista
RECLAIMING A DREAM BETH JOHNSON RENOVATED AND FURNISHED BEN DOMBAR’S HOME
(ABOVE AND PREVIOUS PAGES) TO RECAPTURE ITS MID-CENTURY MODERN AESTHETIC AND CELEBRATE
DOMBAR’S ARCHITECTURAL PROWESS.
OUR STEPS IN, I
said, This is it,” Beth
Johnson recalls. The
house—hexagonal in
shape, mustard-col-
ored, four stories tall
yet barely visible from Galbraith Road—
was uninhabited and, as she stood inside
the front entrance, also uninhabitable. But
she fell in love on the spot, busted pipes,
raccoon pee, and all.
It takes guts to imagine a future for
an unorthodox property sitting vacant
on a steep, thickly wooded hillside. But
Johnson has advantages over the average
would-be rehabber. First, she’s the city of
Cincinnati’s urban conservator, so she un-
derstands what it takes to make a decrepit
site livable. And second, she knew that this
neglected residence on the honeysuckle-
strangled banks of Congress Run Creek
once was a dream home: the residence and
studio of esteemed Cincinnati architect
Ben Dombar.
Dombar and his brother Abrom (Abe)
were trained by Frank Lloyd Wright. They
brought Wrightian principles and sensi-
bility to town, designing homes for hun-
dreds of area families from the 1940s to
the 1980s. This house was completed in
1968 on acreage Ben and his wife, Shirley,
bought in the early 1950s. It was here that
48
Dombar, at the height of his career, had a
BLUEPRINTS COURTESY THE ROBERT A. DESHON & KARL J. SCHLACHTER
L I B R A R Y F O R D E S I G N , A R C H I T E C T U R E , A R T, A N D P L A N N I N G , B E N J A M I N
free hand to build what he wanted.
D O M B A R PA P E R S , D O N AT E D BY R O C K E L L M E E S E , DAU G H T E R O F B E N
Throughout Johnson’s multi-year
restoration, she has worked to preserve
Dombar’s artistry and retain his vision.
Now she’s hoping that the Ben Dombar
House and Studio will be placed on the
National Register of Historic Places. If
she’s successful, it will be the first prop-
erty designed by Dombar to be recognized
in this way.
Historic designation may not have been
Johnson’s immediate thought when she
took those first steps. But what motivated
DOMBAR.
her is what drives so many people who fall
in love with a building that needs rescuing:
She was confident it could be saved, and she
was convinced it should be.
TH E DO M BAR H O US E AN D STU D I O
isn’t Beth Johnson’s first rehab rodeo. Fif-
teen years ago, when she served as preser-
vation officer for the city of Covington, she
owned a house built in 1877 that burned
before restoration was completed. After
that heartbreak, she tackled a full rehab of
another late-19th century house in North-
ern Kentucky, a gut job to save a property
with serious structural issues.
Moving to Austin, Texas, as that city’s
deputy preservation officer, she lived in a
modest ranch requiring “mostly cosmetic
work,” she recalls. When she returned to
this region in 2016 to helm Cincinnati’s
conservation office, there was no question
What motivated Beth Johnson is
what drives so many people who
fall in love with a building that
needs rescuing: She was confi-
dent it could be saved, and she
was convinced it should be.
that she’d redo something for herself to closure and her real estate agent rushed her
live in. “This time,” she says, “I was think- to see it.
ing about adaptive reuse”—that is, trans- She closed on the house in April 2017
forming a non-residential historic property and moved in in August. “There was still
into a home. But a year into her search, the work to do,” she says, “but it was livable.”
Dombar house came on the market in fore- Of course, one C O N T I N U E D O N P A G E 7 8
SHIP
HIP SHAPE
HAPE
DOMBAR DESIGNED
HIS HOME AS A HEXAGON
WITH VERTICAL WINDOWS TO
INCREASE VIEWS OF ITS NATURAL
SURROUNDINGS. JOHNSON PAINTED
THE CHARLEY HARPER MURAL
HERSELF (ABOVE RIGHT);
HARPER AND DOMBAR
WERE CINCINNATI CON-
TEMPORARIES.
49
BRINGING BEN DOMBAR BACK TO LIFE
CONTINUED FROM PAGE 49
proved impractical on the steep site. In-
Bringing Ben Dombar
Back to Life stead, the contractor designed an HVAC
plan using two heat pumps—one for the
BY
Beth Johnson is rehabbing the famous Cincinnati architect’s own home and Linda
studio, hoping to place it on the National Register of Historic Places and cement Vaccariello
the reputation of a Frank Lloyd Wright disciple.
PAGE 47
bottom floor, another for the main and
PHOTOGRAPHS BY
Devyn
Glista
upper floors. A drop ceiling in the kitchen
conceals duct work, and a closet upstairs
hides the second unit. “Peak Heating and
Air did a lot of calculations, studying the
place to see what they could do and how the
system would work so that we didn’t have
person’s “livable” is another person’s job to open too many walls,” she says.
site. Because Johnson acted as her own gen- Although the house hadn’t suffered
eral contractor, she was part of the process, the kind of water problems that ruin some
the progress, and the peculiarities of the neglected buildings, it had been unheated
project at every step. for long enough that there were places
The first order of business was acces- where drywall, paint, and woodwork were
sibility. The house sits almost 50 feet down compromised by rising and falling tem-
from the road, and the driveway has a sud- peratures. And there were smells. There
den turn and sharp drop to the bottom. hadn’t been vandalism, but a door left ajar
Paving it so that contractors could come had welcomed in wildlife. “I could still
BEN DOMBAR CREATED DOZENS OF HOMES IN NEIGHBOR-
HOODS SUCH AS WYOMING, AMBERLEY VILLAGE, AND
PADDOCK HILLS: SIMPLE, STYLISH, AND AFFORDABLE.
and go more easily was a priority. Still, hear the raccoons,” Johnson says. After
scant parking meant that subs had to be Hamilton County animal control removed
carefully coordinated. them, Johnson spent weeks deep-cleaning
Then there was the problem of water— soaked-in urine.
getting it in and keeping it out. “We had From clearing critters’ stench to carting
to replace a lot of pipes downstairs,” says off storm-felled trees, “It was a feat,” she
Johnson. Initially, the extent of the damage says. “There’s nothing easy when it comes
was unclear. “We’d say, Let’s fix this, turn it to this property.”
on, and see whatever leaks.”
The house had comparatively little BEN DOMBAR WOULD BE GLAD TO KNOW
damage from roof leaks, but the origi- that woodlands, the steep ravine, the
nal wood in the deep eaves was sagging splashing creek, and, yes, even the wild-
(“Amazing architects are not always great life still shape life there. That’s why he and
engineers,” Johnson allows) and the shin- his wife chose the spot, says his daughter,
gles were past their shelf life. The steep Rockell Dombar Meese. “They loved the
hillside made accessing the roof and eaves setting, and he thought it would make the
with scaffolding a challenge. “Mike Owens design more interesting.”
Roofing did an amazing job,” says Johnson. Meese, the middle of Ben and Shir-
“But when they were doing it, I didn’t re- ley’s three daughters, was in college at the
ally come to see. It would make me too University of Hawaii when the house was
anxious.” under construction. But she knew the site;
The all-electric house still had its when she was growing up, her family lived
original baseboard heat, inadequate and in North Avondale but visited here often
inefficient by today’s standards. Johnson to picnic in the thick woods alongside the
explored using geothermal energy, but the stream. Initially the family owned close
drilling necessary for that type of system to two acres, land that lay on both sides of
7 8 C I N C I N N AT I M A G A Z I N E . C O M F E B R U A R Y 2 0 2 2
Congress Run Creek; unhappily, some of
it was lost for construction of the Ronald
Reagan Cross County Highway.
“I think it’s the long-term dream of an
architect to build his own home,” Meese
says. It was indeed her father’s dream, one
that would use many of the ideas, and ide-
als, he’d been exploring ever since he was
a teenager.
Dombar was just 17 and fresh out
of Hughes High School when he joined
his brother Abe to study architecture at
Taliesin, Frank Lloyd Wright’s Wisconsin
home/farm/cultural mecca where Wright
schooled his apprentices in the princi-
ples of Organic Architecture. Ben stayed
for seven years, assisting on a number of
Wright-designed projects in the region, in-
cluding the acclaimed Johnson Wax head-
quarters in Racine; laboring in the fields;
and rubbing elbows with the famous folk
who came to see Wright in his element.
Even when those years were long behind
Dombar, “Mr. Wright played a very big role
in our lives,” Meese says. The family would
go to Taliesin for reunions, and as a kid in
the 1950s she remembers the Great Man
patting her on the head.
Dombar returned to Cincinnati in 1941,
served in WWII, and then began his pro-
fessional life enabling his hometown’s
booming suburban expansion. He worked
with some of the city’s best-known mid-
century talents, including Woody Garber,
Carl Strauss, and Ray Roush, before going
out on his own. Much of the work he did
here reflects the Mid-Century Modern aes-
thetic of the day. But his teacher’s influence
remained.
Shaped by Wright’s egalitarian notion
of Usonian design, Dombar created doz-
ens of homes for middle-class families in
neighborhoods such as Wyoming, Amber-
ley Village, and Paddock Hills—simple,
efficient, stylish, and affordable. He de-
signed some spectacular homes, too, most
notably the arc-shaped Runnels residence
on Hidden Valley Lane in Wyoming. Built
in 1965, it was recently on the market for
$1 million.
Realtor Susan Rissover and her hus-
band, Arlen, are champions of Cincinnati’s
mid-century architecture. She notes that
few of the houses Dombar and his brother
built are in obvious drive-by spots. “Many
were built on modest lots, at the end of a
street, or down a ravine,” she says. In a city
of daunting hills, “Their style lent itself to
building on previously unbuildable lots.”
And whether it was a grand project or an
unpretentious one, Dombar distinguished
it by his attention to detail. “My husband
and I can spot a Dombar home by the tile
work in the bathroom,” she says. “There’s
artistry throughout.”
BETH JOHNSON DIDN’T EVEN HAVE TO
get as far as the bathroom to see that artist-
ry. Her front door opens to a low-ceilinged
entry with a rustic stone floor. It’s as if a
quiet corner of the woods has been ush-
ered inside. And in a way, it has. All of the
house’s stone came from the site, carted up
from the creek by Dombar and his family.
“When I was writing the nomination
[for the National Trust for Historic Pres-
ervation], I went back and forth about the
style: Is it Mid-Century Modern with or-
ganic influences or organic with mid-cen-
tury influences?” Johnson says. “We came
to the conclusion that it was Organic Ar-
chitecture, designed to be in harmony with
the landscape.”
The house testifies to that spirit. The
compact entry leads to an open, expansive
main floor, with floor-to-ceiling windows
and cantilevered balconies overlooking the
creek. Its hexagonal shape wasn’t merely a
quirky whim: Dombar chose it to maximize
the views upstream and downstream.
Homes he designed for his clients
were usually long and low—horizontal
and landscape-hugging in the tradition of
Frank Lloyd Wright. But when he built for
himself, Dombar “harmonized” with this
dramatic vertical landscape, tucking this
tall house into a steep hill in order to echo
the terrain. The lowest level opens onto the
banks of the creek; the highest looks into
the treetops. “I will never tire of watching
the landscape and the birds,” says Johnson.
“You’re immersed in nature.”
While the site was grand, Dombar’s
budget for his home was not grandiose.
He hauled stones and did some of the
carpentry himself. The striking central
fireplace is simply decorated with a con-
crete slab he etched in a starburst pattern.
The woodwork trim inside is simple too:
redwood 1-by-4s, 1-by-2s, and 1-by-6s in
grid patterns that emphasize the design’s
vertical lines.
The exterior is asbestos paneling; its
unconventional color is baked in and per-
manent. Johnson’s research indicates that
the Hamilton County auditor valued the
house at $13,200 in 1970, when the median
value of homes in Ohio was $17,000. “It was
a concept house,” Johnson explains. “Each
floor is a plate that’s 1,200 square feet, the
trusses could be pre-made, and the design
could be adapted to the unique hillsides of
Cincinnati.”
Apparently, no client ever truly grasped
the concept; Dombar built nothing else
based on this design. But it must have
worked, because successive owners (there
were two before Johnson acquired it) made
few changes. The floor plan is the same as
when the Dombar family lived here. No
walls came down to turn the small, inti-
mate bedrooms into sweeping suites. The
galley kitchen with its stone backsplash is
remarkably intact, too, with original cabi-
nets and countertops; a built-in telephone
(not working), food warmer (still working),
and can opener (ditto); and an intriguing
vintage mixing/blending/grinding “food
center” manufactured by Cincinnati-based
NuTone.
Shirley Dombar kept a Kosher kitchen,
so there’s a three-bowl sink for proper food
handling. She was also quite short, and her
husband included pull-out steps so she
could reach upper cabinets. They’re still in
service, too.
The lower floor, with its separate en-
trance, was Dombar’s open studio, where
he met with clients and worked with as-
sociates. In adapting the house for her own
use, Johnson made this level her owner’s
suite without disturbing the basic open
floor plan, using Dombar’s central stor-
age room as a walk-in closet and arranging
furnishings so that the sleeping portion is
separate from the workout area, laundry,
and mechanicals.
Johnson has been keen to keep the
original materials intact when possible
and replace them with appropriate substi-
tutes when necessary. Except where there
is stonework, upstairs floors needed to be
replaced (thanks, raccoons!). On the main
level she installed cork flooring—not what
the Dombar family had used, but appro-
F E B R U A R Y 2 0 2 2 C I N C I N N AT I M A G A Z I N E . C O M 7 9
priate to the home’s era and more practi-
cal for Johnson and her one-dog/two-cat
household.
On the lower level, the original Arm-
strong vinyl composition tile had come
unstuck. She was able to remove it, replace
it with new tile in the same color, and send
the half-century-old vinyl back to Arm-
strong for recycling. She was disappointed
that the original tile wasn’t salvageable, but
because of the recycling, she says, “I didn’t
feel so bad.”
Restoring the bathrooms was a far more
challenging task. Zins Plumbing worked on
the quirky wall-hung toilets, sourcing parts
for the outdated mechanism from a dealer
who handled vintage plumbing supplies.
One bathroom had been remodeled; she
retiled it to be in keeping with the original
design, and she was able to replicate a dam-
aged vanity using a cupboard removed from
the kitchen.
Some tasks called for scouring websites
to find suitable replacements for missing
fixtures. Others called for simple elbow
grease. Johnson painted the interior, re-
hung doors, and replaced the missing trim
herself. Thanks to Dombar’s simple de-
sign, the trim was particularly easy-peasy.
“It just took basic math and a miter saw,”
she says.
Is it finished? The better question is,
will a house like this ever be finished? Now
Johnson chooses just two big projects a
year, one for fall and winter, another for
spring and summer. The most recent ef-
fort was adding a fence. The next will be
uncovering a stone patio she discovered on
an overgrown part of the property.
Whether or not the house is listed on
the National Register of Historic Plac-
es won’t change her plans. Johnson has
done this work—restoring wonky toilets,
sourcing sympathetic materials—because
she believes it’s what Ben Dombar and his
home deserve. The point of having a build-
ing on the National Register, she says, is
“mostly a way of recognizing and honoring
the work of the person who created it. But
it’s also a way of elevating the history that
the building represents.”
And there’s also the issue of profession-
al bona fides. Johnson is, after all, a preser-
vationist. “It’s a matter of walking the walk
I talk,” she says.