It was envisioned as a "shining home of dreams", an "experimental living laboratory and testing ground", a "magnificent prism of Man's dreams" where the ideas of tomorrow are experienced today.
In practice, it ended up being a three dollar tourist attraction.
Completed in 1979 for a cost of $1,200,000, the Ahwatukee House of the Future was the brainchild of real-estate developer and Ahwatukee village founder Randall Presley.
Conceived
as an attraction to generate interest in the relatively new Phoenix, Arizona
suburb, Presley approached the Frank Lloyd Wright Foundation with the vision of an idealized futuristic home that would wow visitors while also maximizing
efficiency in a harsh desert climate.
Elevation sketches.
Floor plan.
Charles
Robert Schiffner, of Taliesin Associated Architects, served as project
architect for the striking pyramidal edifice, which looks something like the star-child
offspring of a mid-century modern church and an inter-dimensional spacecraft.
Solar panels and copper roofing, which has since turned green after years of exposure.
The
interior is centered around a spacious atrium with multiple skylights strategically
placed to maximize natural lighting throughout the day. The traditional living
room is replaced with a "conversation pit", a 1950's modernist
innovation intended to facilitate interpersonal communication, that by the
late 70's was still viewed by suburbia as a novelty.
Pit shmit--let's watch The Love Boat!
Employing an open design, there are no hallways to sequester adjoining rooms from view,
and sliding glass panels replace traditional interior doors.
Study and bedroom under glass.
To
efficiently keep the environment cool in the hot Phoenix desert, living spaces are below ground level, and a bank of solar panels, unusual in private
residences of the day, powers the hot water heater.
Now
maybe you're thinking that a conversation pit and solar panels aren't all that
futuristic?
Meet Tuke.
Pronounced
tu-kee, (as in Ahwatukee), Tuke is the name of the ten interconnected Motorola
microprocessors that monitor and control all aspects of the house. The system,
which cost approximately $30,000 (although Motorola engineers predicted the price
of a comparable system would drop to only $5,000 in a few years), monitors
windows and doors, adjusts blinds, controls temperature, and logs energy use
for later analysis.
Terminals
located in the sitting room, kitchen, and master bedroom allow human beings to
interact with Tuke to store and retrieve messages, recipes, and bank account
information (the system doesn't connect to the Internet or any other external
network.)
"Tuke, look up the recipe for stuffed bell peppers. Then delete it."
Did
I mention Tuke talks and can entertain children with spoken jokes and nursery
rhymes? Tuke's speaking voice is very similar to the voice synthesizer from
1983's War Games.
Of
course, no House of the Future would be complete without a phalanx of robot
security guards patrolling the grounds. But we'll have to settle for
security cameras, motion detector lights, and a keyless entry system that
requires entering a personal code into a calculator-style keypad.
Can my code be 58008?
Now, you may be concerned that an intelligent, computer-controlled house might try
to kill you someday after determining you are an inefficiency, or perhaps,
after hours of spying on you in the shower, fall in love with and attempt
to impregnate you.
Don't
worry-- Charles E. Thompson, Motorola's VP of World Marketing , has anticipated
your concerns, and assures us, in a somewhat humorous interview ("The
Tenant is in Complete Control", InfoWorld Magazine, June 1980), that human
beings will remain "in complete control of the environment...making all the
important decisions". Rumors that
Tuke will lock you in the house and slowly cook you over several hours by
aiming its solar panels at you are highly exaggerated.
The
House, which opened to the public from 1980 to 1984, hosting approximately
250,000 visitors at $3 a pop before being sold as a private residence, was
notable enough to be featured on the television show That's Incredible and in
Volume 3 of its companion book.
Here
are a few current photos of the house, followed by the That's Incredible book
article in its entirety.
1 comment:
I went there in 1982, at age 7. I remember the sectional dining room table, which allowed the family to each take part of the table and their meal to any place in the house they wanted to go. I also remember the tour guide girl educating me as to why copper turns "turquoise" over time, and how the computer had an animated, blocky version of "Snoopy" on it.
All in all, 7-year-old me was super impressed. Good to hear it's still there. Wonder what the residents have done with the place...
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