Landmark Miller House Shines as Mid-Century Modern Icon in Columbus, IN

Over the steady drone of lawnmowers tending to the 14 lush acres of surrounding lawn and garden, tour guide Dennis Orwin delivers instructions on how to conduct ourselves inside the Miller House in Columbus, Ind.

“Don’t sit on anything,” Dennis advises our small group. “Don’t touch anything. Don’t take photos. Walk on the carpet runners. Put large bags and coats in the cloakroom. If you take written notes, you can’t use a ballpoint pen.”

We nod in assent, as Chris Morlock, security supervisor, stands by.

“And,” Dennis continues in mock seriousness, “given the need to maintain climate control in the house, it would be helpful if you don’t breathe during the tour.”

Not happening, we chuckle in good-natured defiance.

His last request isn’t entirely off-base, however.

Miller House is a 20th-century icon, a crown jewel in the famous architectural destination of Columbus, and one of the most significant examples of Mid-Century Modern residential architecture in America.

Commissioned in 1953 and completed four years later, the 6,800-square-foot Miller House was the home of noted industrialist and philanthropist J. Irwin Miller, chairman and CEO of then-Cummins Engine Company, his wife, Xenia Simons Miller, and their five children. This hallmark house spotlights the genius of architect Eero Saarinen, designer Alexander Girard, and landscape architect Dan Kiley. That talented triumvirate collaborated with knowledgeable clients with deep pockets, ideas, and aspirations of their own, and together they produced an epitome of modernism.

In 2000, Miller House further solidified its rarified stature when it became the first National Historic Landmark to receive its designation while one of its designers (Kiley) was still alive, and while still occupied by its original owners. After J. Irwin and Xenia Miller died, their heirs donated the house and many original furnishings to the Indianapolis Museum of Art (IMA) – now part of Newfields cultural campus.

A family haven at Miller House

My husband, Bill, and I prepped for our afternoon visit to Miller House with a morning drive-by bus tour of nearly 40 other modernist gems that help give Columbus its distinction as an internationally renowned mecca of masterworks of modern art and architecture. Under Miller’s guidance, Cummins established a foundation in the 1950s that fostered the construction of modernist buildings, art, and landscapes by donating design fees for projects that retained renowned contemporary architects.

So how, I wonder, did Miller’s belief in the power of architecture play out within his and Xenia’s own home?

First and foremost, the Millers wanted a year-round dwelling to accommodate family life and frequent entertaining: a place for parents, children, cars, and the mundane and operational aspects of daily living (kitchen, laundry room); and sufficient space to host neighbors and assorted global guests from their multiple business, civic, and cultural spheres.

Despite their exalted position in Columbus and far beyond, the couple was unprepossessing, Dennis says. Wanting to be part of the community, they chose a rectangular lot stretched between busy Washington Street, the city’s main thoroughfare, and a river. Even though the Millers were sophisticated collectors and eventually amassed $179 million worth of art, neither security guards nor gates protected the premises. On Halloween, they handed out apples from the orchard on their grounds to trick or treaters.

The Millers may have exuded a we’re-just-plain-folks sensibility, yet their home was anything but common.

Their single-story, rectangular-shaped abode surrounded by a terrazzo plinth has a long, low profile. The flat roof overhangs windows and walls of grey slate and white marble, a neutral look that’s replicated inside and still looks fresh today. Modernism – clean, simple, linear lines – is my aesthetic. While those with more ornate tastes might consider Miller House to be overly severe and stark, I see a work of art.

Sixteen steel, cruciform columns provide the entire support. An unseen skylight system follows the beam structure all around for natural light. A continuous strip of lighting runs in the middle for nighttime illumination.

The plan is built on a two-and-a-half-foot grid pattern. The floorplan is further divided into nine designated living spaces, like a giant 3×3 tic-tac-toe board. Corners are private spaces: bedrooms for the parents, children, guest/servant, and the kitchen/service area. The carport and entry share a grid. The remaining sections are for public functions: dining room, rec room, and living room featuring a striking, sunken conversation pit. Other grid motifs appear in the art. An entryway shadowbox by Girard called “One to Forty-Nine” displays seashells increasing incrementally within a 7×7 pattern. Even the landscape possesses a streamlined geometry, with a double allée of trees running parallel to the house.

Based on Xenia’s dislike for clutter, the interior flows open and airy. Mechanical features such as downspouts, heating vents, and wall switches, are either subtle, disguised, or concealed. Furnishings, boldly colored, rich, and luxurious, surprise me with their warmth, as does the non-modernistic folk art.

My attention keeps wandering to the conversation pit. In a house meant to host hundreds, intimate groups, and family gatherings, the pit was the centerpiece, a deep lounge with bench seating fashioned from stone and covered with comfy cushions topped with pillows.

Each season, the Millers decorated the pit with multiple pillows in diverse colors, textures, and patterns in fabrics from around the world. Further, they surrounded the pit with plants, creating a mini conservatory. At one end stands a large Girard-designed dollhouse that represents Miller House in a Victorian style.

The Millers tested the pit’s concept at Vassar College. Their concern: women wearing skirts and walking by the upper outer rim would be offended if people in the pit looked up and under their skirts. Apparently, the arrangement wasn’t bothersome, and in went the pit.

I recall a conversation with our friend Carrie before our trip. She grew up in Columbus. A childhood friend of one of the Miller boys, she actually played in that pit.

As singular as Miller House remains in the architectural realm, I also think about the everyday lives spent here. Stories I’m hearing about the family sharing experiences and enshrining memories are just as meaningful to me as the house’s design credentials, for they infuse it with a timeless vitality:

·      One son, tired of practicing piano, vented frustration by biting the Steinway. His teeth marks are still visible.
·      Anthropologist Richard Leaky bringing in his suitcase containing the famous fossilized skeletal remains of “Lucy.”
·      A pet dog regularly defying Xenia’s rules against sleeping on a couch, bolting at the sound of her heels clicking on travertine floors.
·      J. Irwin removing his prized Stradivarius from a hidden storage compartment and asked visiting prodigy violinist Joshua Bell to “play him a tune.”
·      Xenia unobtrusively pushing the doorbell under her coffee cup on the round dining room table to summon help from the kitchen. The table’s center was a lighted, water-filled pool.
·      Xenia and her high school friends needlepointing Girard’s design for dining room chair seat cushions.
·      Girard weaving family images into the hexagon-shaped lozenges of a rug: the elephant standing for J. Irwin’s Republican politics; Y for Yale, Miller’s alma mater; 7 denoting the size of the Miller family; a mini house plan; and E for Eero Saarinen, among them.

More stories await in Columbus

When Erin Hawkins arrives post-tour to escort me through the house for photo ops, I mention Bill’s and my fondness for designs by Charles and Ray Eames and our acquaintance with their granddaughter Llisa Demetrios, a bronze sculptor. Erin is director of marketing for the Columbus Visitors Center, and arranged our tour.

Erin smiles mischievously, and drives us to 301 Washington Street. No sign identifies the Victorian building, but the gold trim around the door hints at its prominence. We enter and climb stairs to the second story, arriving in what had been J. Irwin Miller’s private office suite. A few original furnishings remain, including his desk and credenza still topped with personal memorabilia.

With a flourish, Erin presents the bonanza – black office chairs custom-designed by the Eames duo with rare, atypical bronze bases rather than the standard aluminum ones. Furniture maker Herman Miller produced these specialty chairs. Like gleeful kids on Christmas morning and with Erin’s urging, we maneuver the heavy chairs for a closer look at the bases, then take satisfied seats.

Whenever I walk into old or historic buildings the proverbial saying, “If only these walls could talk,” always comes to mind. At J. Irwin Miller’s house and office, they do.

We participated in the tour courtesy of the Columbus Visitors Center. The experiences and story are my own. The Visitors Center provided several photos of Miller House, courtesy of IMA.