Crazy Hat, Bright Tie

The credo of Architect Morris Lapidus of Miami Beach is simple and to the point: put your money where it shows. Such cathedrals of pleasure as the Eden Roc, Americana and Fontainebleau (pronounced Fountain Blue) hotels give abundant evidence that Lapidus is a disciple of excess. With freewheeling showmanship, he is trying to develop an "alphabet of ornament" that will provoke an emotional revolt against the austerity of modern architecture. In the midway atmosphere of Miami Beach and other resort areas, Lapidus, 57, finds the perfect outlet for the "new sensuality" expressed in his terrazzoed palazzos. "They call my hotels corn," he says proudly, "but they're better than corn. They make people happy, excited, titillated. Vacationers need to feel a sense of adventure. That's why I build my closets so big: people need big closets emotionally."

Bordello Opulence. Behind Lapidus' philosophy rests a firm conviction that architecture's age of simplicity is doomed. His hotels are a tossed salad of riotously flamboyant styles that range from borscht-belt baroque to Coney Island modern. With exaggeration that verges on caricature, he splashes his hotels with colorful bordello opulence that offends traditionalists, flabbergasts sophisticates and often delights the uninitiated. Lapidus takes pride in the fact that he gives people "something to gape at.'' In fact, he calls his arced, 565-room Fontainebleau a "tasteful three-ring circus." But the star turn among his hotels is the $17 million Americana, which he designed right down to the bellhops' uniforms. In the lobby of the hotel is a glass-enclosed terrarium, open on top so that the lobby can be rained into without wetting the guests. "It's ridiculous to have a glass-enclosed hole in the middle of a building," admits Lapidus, "but it gives people a lift. It's the crazy hat for women, the bright tie for men."

Only a Vanderbilt. Lapidus graduated from the Columbia School of Architecture in 1927, began his career as the shoe-store Frank Lloyd Wright by pioneering in store-front design that turned drab show windows into eye-catching display cases. But his lavish future was foreshadowed when a gold, walnut and marble bathroom that he designed for Mrs. William K. Vanderbilt caused her husband to complain: "I'm only a Vanderbilt, not a Rockefeller!" By 1943 the fun had gone out of store design, and Lapidus branched into architecture on his own. For several years he worked mainly as a hotel doctor, adding his bright touches to the redesign of resort hotels. In 1954 he got his first major Miami Beach commission, designed the $15 million Fontainebleau.

Lapidus followed his Florida successes with the 176-room Arawak Hotel in Jamaica and the 150-room Aruba Caribbean-Casino in the Netherlands West Indies.

Despite such million-dollar labors, Lapidus says sadly: "Averagewise, I make only $30.000 a year." Impervious to critical barbs, he says, in the familiar tones of the misunderstood: "I'm not designing for architects; I'm designing for the people.''

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