Photo courtesy of the Frank Lloyd Wright Preservation Trust. www.gowright.org

In February 1964, America's music and pop culture landscapes endured a massive earthquake when invading Brits in New York lured more than a third of the population to their television sets on a Sunday evening. The ensuing years-long hysteria was a phenomenon like no other before or since. Beatlemania was a self-perpetuating movement to which the Beatles became, in some sense, ancillary. Their popularity, born of great music and showmanship, was such that had they released an album consisting entirely of bathroom sounds, it would have shot to number 1 and gone gold. A fact that does not detract at all from the band's amazing talent and savvy.

On the other side of the country, a band consisting of five young men with much less savvy but considerable talent, were unprepared for the coming storm. Their group, formed in the L.A. suburbs (at a time when L.A. actually had suburbs) benefitted from none of the shrewd management that augmented the Beatles' own gifts. Led by a musical genius named Brian Wilson, they had been the crown princes of American pop music. Then the coup d'etat by John, Paul, George and Ringo. The Beach Boys, like the rest of the country, found themselves in a different world.

Their popularity and success did not disappear. "I Get Around," their first number 1 hit, didn't occur until several months after the Beatles appeared on Ed Sullivan. Over the next two years, "Help Me, Rhonda" and "Good Vibrations" followed, also reaching the top of the charts, the latter a transcendent record that ushered in the psychadelic era. Numerous other songs reached the TopTen. The wonder that is Pet Sounds arrived in 1966. But after February 1964, the Beach Boys were usually in the Beatles' considerable shadow, their popularity never quite achieving the holy grail of self-perpetuation.

Several months ago I wrote: "If Frank Lloyd Wright is the Beatles then Greene & Greene are the Beach Boys." Such analogies are rather tenuous and this one was written in jest. There are, however, broad parallels though I certainly do not intend to suggest that the savvy aspect of the rock group comparison carries over to the architects. There is some fun to be had in further examination.

Wright was THE architectural star of his time. His fame was unparalleled, certainly in popular perception, and was so great that it became self-perpetuating. Wright's reputation and popularity were well deserved, his work an important part of our cultural heritage. In fact, his fame was such that clients were willing to overlook "features" that would have ruined lesser architects.

In Western Pennsylvania, not far from Wright masterpiece Fallingwater, one of the iconic buildings of the 20th century, is a wonderful house called Kentuck Knob. Completed in 1956, it is one of Wright's last residential designs. Located on a beautiful, serene mountain site, the walls in much of the house consist almost entirely of windows, with nature for curtains. Wright said that by the time of this commission, a design could simply fall out of his sleeve. That may be but the result in this case is very inviting.

Despite the considerable beauty of this fascinating house, one of my most vivid memories of Kentuck Knob is of the entry to the master bedroom. Or rather, of how one enters the bedroom, which is sideways. This is not a quaint custom or a show of respect to the current royal owners but rather a concession to physics. Most adults cannot fit through the door in a normal gait, turning sideways is necessary. The furniture in the room will forever remain there barring its destruction or removal of a wall. If you or I had designed the house, this shortcoming would have been derided. Such is the power of a lifetime of genius, fame and reputation.

Relative to Frank Lloyd Wright, Greene & Greene worked in near obscurity. Like Wright, they invented an iconic style that was, and is, highly regarded but like the Beach Boys were never quite able to achieve Beatle-esque/Wrightian critical momentum in terms of broad popularity. While everyone is familiar with Wright's work, many people have never heard of Charles & Henry Greene. How is that possible?

It could be that one of the Greenes' strengths worked against them in this regard. Their architecture was of its place, the environment of Southern California encoded in its DNA. Perhaps the regional identity was simply too great. Perhaps. However, one can easily imagine that style on Cape Cod, Eastern Long Island, Newport or on the shores of the Pacific Northwest with minor climatically-sensitive modifications. In fact, the firm designed houses for clients in New Jersey and Vancouver though only the Vancouver plan was constructed, the exception that proves the rule.

Wright suffered from no such perception. His Prairie Style displayed a chameleon-like ability to adapt to surroundings. While strong horizontal elements evoke the wide-open plains there is nothing inherently Midwestern in the houses. They are at home in many contexts as evidenced by their presence across the country.

Who can say why one artist, one style achieves greater acceptance than another when both are highly regarded and worthy of acclaim. The next person to answer that question will be the first. The Beach Boys are certainly deserving of greater respect, though Brian Wilson is belatedly receiving a degree of the credit due him. Similarly, despite finally being recognized by the American Institute of Architects late in their lives, the "new and native architecture" of Greene & Greene is worthy of a greater legacy. Thanks to the efforts of a handful of very dedicated and talented individuals, there is hope for exactly that.