The Atrium Way

The blueprint is as old as the hills, and the ancient hills of Rome at that. But the atrium house is fast becoming the newest thing in suburban housing, and nearly as popular as it was when Romulus was little more than a babe.

The theory is simpler than rolling off a logarithm: set a small square within a larger one and, instead of living in the middle with a garden all around, live all around and put the garden in the middle. It is a natural solution to the problem of how to achieve privacy in crowded areas, but it has been slow coming to the U.S., which started off as a smalltown country whose settlers and their houses were few and far between--a place where people had to sit out front on a summer evening to see what was going on. Over the years, however, the front porch faded from importance and today, with more people living in more houses, with housing developments creeping into lakes and rivers and across the land, window shades are almost the only means of privacy. And no one cares much for waving at passersby.

Jungles and an Aviary. Individual architects such as Edward D. Stone and Philip C. Johnson have designed custom-built atrium houses for private clients in years past. But only lately have mass builders begun to adopt the style. Pacesetter Homes set 169 atria on a tract in San Clemente, Calif., and Builder William J. Levitt--of the Levittown Levitts --includes a version of the house in his 1,450-unit development currently abuilding near Cape Kennedy, Fla. Greatest enthusiast is California's Joseph L. Eichler, who has built some 3,000 houses in 31 development tracts in the last six years, sold every one of them (at anywhere from $23,000 to $55,000 each), sometimes even before construction began.

In fact, Eichler's Lucas Valley, some 20 miles north of San Francisco, is a demonstration of just how handsome tract-housing can be. Surrounded on two sides by mountains, the site is spacious and richly wooded. But what is most impressive is not the way the houses look from the outside but the other way around; and inside-out, the view is spectacular. No two of the 550 approximately 300-sq.-ft. patios are the same: the Frederick Bradleys' holds a slender Japanese maple and a jungle of flowers, while the John Hamrens have surfaced theirs with pebbles, Irish moss, lava rocks and a fountain ("We did have fish in there," says Mrs. Hamren, "but we have four cats, and now we don't have fish in there"). Other families found the courtyards made perfect playgrounds and barbecue pits; some installed a sliding roof and built a hothouse underneath, and one couple put a screen over the open-air top and bequeathed the area to their pet bird as an aviary.

Rhapsody & Shrugs. Whatever the use, atrium owners agree that the advantages are great. Says Mrs. Bradley, "We can sunbathe and the neighbors can't see, have the outside fragrance go all through the house, leave the toddlers outside and keep an eye on them from practically anywhere inside. And when it rains," she adds rhapsodically, "the maple leaves turn dark and glistening, the outside comes right indoors and makes all this our very own world."

Builder Eichler is even more exuber ant, but then the atria have helped net him an annual $20 million in sales, and he's entitled to be expansive. "There's no other way to live," he says enthusiastically. "Let's say it's Sunday, and you wanna throw a barbecue. With the atrium, you've got a protected area, and regardless of the weather, you're guaranteed an outdoor party." What about rain? "You go inside," Eichler shrugs, "just like other people."

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