42 
RYDER 
House & Garden 
JOHN 
FECIT 
This Is An Excellent Year To Start the Custom oj 
Letting the Architect Sign the House He Designs 
O N AN obscure corner of the house, where a honeysuckle 
drapes it from too public and curious a view, we have placed 
a small board on which is lettered: 
John Ryder, 
FECIT 
1845 
J'his, with due family ceremony, was put in place one June day, 
when the peonies and iris and blazing Oriental poppies made the 
border jubilant with color. 
We were prompted to place it there after reading what Royal 
Cortissoz said recently on the occasion of a presentation of a medal 
to Mr. Henry Bacon, architect of the Lincoln Memorial in Wash¬ 
ington. This was the first time, it seems, that the United States 
Government has taken the trouble to honor an architect with a 
puljlic ceremony. Mr. Cortissoz wondered why it wasn’t more 
often done. And, following his thought, we wondered why people 
who build homes don’t take the trouble to give the architect some 
permanent credit for their work. Perhaps the reason is because so 
many well-intentioned clients, having suggested an extra bath¬ 
room to the architect, consider themselves responsible for the de¬ 
signing of the entire house. So far architects have been satisfied 
if they are paid, much less honored. 
I N ALL my wanderings through other people’s houses I have 
found only two homes in which such honor was given. One to 
Stanford White—a little tablet in the hall of a country house—and 
one to the architect of a home in Elmira, N. Y.; the architect’s 
name and achievement lieing carved on the mantel edge in the 
library. 
Granted that a home builder’s relations with his architect have 
been pleasant, and granted that the liill has been paid without 
recourse to law, why not let the architect sign his work? Why 
shouldn’t the mark of such a great architect as Charles A. Platt on 
a house give it authenticity and value just as the butterfly gives 
value to a Whistler painting? If the client has so interfered that 
the architect isn’t proud of the house, he need not sign it, just as 
etchers do not sign proofs with which they are dissatisfied. The 
poet signs his poem, the sculptor his figure, the musician his com¬ 
position, the artist his painting, the writer his story,—but the 
architect joins the vast majority of Anonymous. 
It is not uncommon for the architect’s name to appear on a public 
building. Mr. Cass Gilbert, I believe, is to be found smiling down 
from a capital in the corridor of the Woolworth Building, which 
he designed. Ivan the Terrible, legend reports, honored the archi¬ 
tect of his huge Cathedral in the Red Square at Moscow with 
the pleasant little ceremony of putting out his eyes; he didn’t 
want the design duplicated, was the reason he is said to have given. 
Sir Christopher Wren doubtless received great honor in his day, 
and he has recently been receiving more encomiums, on the occasion 
of his duo-centenary. Mr. Ralph Adams Cram, I have heard, 
on the occasion of the first service in a church designed, was 
permitted to march in the procession in full doctor’s regalia. Such 
occasions are rare; the architect usually seems obliged to take 
his cash and let the credit go. 
Since this year of grace 1923 is as good as any to institute 
an excellent custom, why not mark it as the time in the history of 
America when home builders began to honor their architects by 
asking them to sign the homes they designed? 
Just how the house can be. marked will depend on the house 
itself. It is not uncommon to find inscriptions on the door lintel 
of Colonial homes; in an English type of home, the architect’s 
name can be cut in an exposed beam; it could be stamped modestly 
in a piece of the wrought iron in an Italian or Spanish house. Per¬ 
haps the architect can best select the spot and the manner of mark¬ 
ing. 
While English is an excellent language, Latin is the accustomed 
tongue for inscriptions and the simple “Fecit” tells the whole 
tale in two syllables. Or one might use the Latin for architect, 
which is architectus. Of course, the date would be included. 
I N OUR own case there was no architect. According to the an¬ 
cient son of the man who built this house, “Pop did it himself.” 
On further questioning (for this old fellow was reticent), “Pop 
took it from a book because Mom liked it.” “Pop”, by the bye, 
was a master carpenter, a worthy man in any age. And there must 
have been some excellent books of house plans in those days, for 
“Pop” chose a good one—simple, severe, classical, in the Neo- 
Greek style that prevailed in this country from 1800 up to the Civil 
Y’ar. This John Ryder, for such was his name, built the house for 
his bride, tucked it on the side of a Connecticut hill facing south 
so that the north winds would not make living unbearable in 
winter time. In front he planted two elms, one for his bride 
and one for himself—and they still shadow the old house with 
their generous branches. Successive generations of owners have 
had respect for its lines and such additions as were made have 
only given it nobility.... If, on some starry summer night, the 
shade of old John Ryder should lift aside the honeysuckle and 
read his name inscribed there, we hope he will be pleased. 
