From our home to yours, Merry Christmas!
The following was written by a prominent florist and friend who had the privilege of knowing our Dream Home’s previous owner. As we hear of the many inspirational stories of Maxine, I am saddened I never had the opportunity to meet her. She was, obviously, an outstanding lady. Our only hope is she would be pleased what we have done with her beautiful home in bringing it back to life. Enjoy!
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Maxine
Residents for more than ten or fifteen years know exactly who I am talking about already. Her generosity was legendary and her lifestyle seemed aspirational at first blush, even knowing living the way she did was perfect for her, but would seem ridiculous for the rest of us. We all loved knowing Maxine Anton and just stood back and marveled at the things she did and the gracious way in which she did them. What few people know is how important she was in my life.
Sometime during the early years of our floral business, which were also my college years, Mrs. Anton became one of our customers. I can remember the time period because her niece and I were in college together and Mrs. Anton and I already were acquainted at that time. (It wasn’t until later in life that she insisted upon being called Maxine by me. I did it, but it was difficult!)
She had known my dad when he was a designer at Sachs Florist in the early 1950’s and had appreciated the work he had done for her while employed there, and so had come to him when we opened the shop on 21st Street.
I’m not positive, but it seems that the first time I visited her home was to plan interior Christmas decor, which was beyond my frame of reference at that time. I couldn’t imagine that anyone hired such a thing done, and certainly not for the whole house. Who on Earth would hire someone to put up their Christmas tree?? Working with Mrs. Anton was more a benefit to me than it was to her. Her knowledge and taste combined in a way that truly helped me understand style, fashion and grace, and she was more than happy to share that knowledge.
When I admired something in her home, she would take the time to educate me about what it was and why she had it. She was always willing to share her vast knowledge of antiques and art with me through her own personal collection. Within those walls on Westover Road were pieces I know I’ll never have the chance to see again, especially in such close proximity, because of their rarity.
For example, there was a red lacquer secretary in the “new” room at the rear of the house. I admired it several times and she shared that she had purchased it from Manheim’s of New Orleans, one of the most respected antiques dealers in the world (my description, not hers). This was an original English Chippendale piece of the period in which he lived, which was the mid-1700’s. The cabinet itself was meticulously built in London and once constructed was already a work of art. But what really set these apart was that following the construction of the cabinet, it was sent to the Orient to be “Japanned”, hand-painted in layer upon layer with traditional far-Eastern designs. The finished product could take years, but the end result was breathtaking. Even when these works were new, few could afford them.
Mrs. Anton shared that once she decided to purchase this secretary, she insisted upon sending a painted drawer to the Nelson-Adkins museum to verify that this piece was as presented. If it was, she would purchase it, but because of the asking price she must be sure. What I have just shared with you was originally shared with me many years ago by Mrs. Anton, but it was just one lesson among hundreds she so willingly gave to me. Her life was a treasure trove, as was her home.
The stately residence epitomized classic design, not only architecturally, but also in the interior furnishings and placement.
Although the exterior of the home is a Mt. Vernon colonial, the interior architecture varies from this style in that the foyer is anchored by a graceful curving staircase from which radiates a transverse hallway to the North and the dining room to the south. The traditional floor plan would have been a center hall style. While the rooms are spacious and comfortable, they are not overwhelming in size, especially in the original house, and were furnished to create a very formal (the kitchen was literally hidden from sight!) but surprisingly relaxed atmosphere. This is accomplished by the inviting furniture placement which loudly signaled “Sit here comfortably and stay a while”.
While there were occasional chairs, tables and other furnishings that were obviously priceless antiques, they were placed to be visually enjoyed while the many upholstered pieces which had overstuffed down cushions and pillows were arranged to facilitate conversation and human interaction, maybe not to the point of putting your feet on a table in your under wear, but comfortable nonetheless. Coffee and other occasional tables not only had beautiful accessories but also cigarettes and ashtrays (this was the 60’s, after all) and crystal compotes filled with See’s candy back when it was not available outside California and the Western states. These welcoming touches tempered the formality and intimidation such a beautiful home can inspire. It is a lesson I have carried through my whole life.
Exceptional beauty must be balanced with warmth and friendliness or it can become stifling. To further emphasize this point, when company was coming, fresh flowers always adorned several of these tables, arranged in vases from her collection of Lalique and Steuben housed on a lower shelf of the butler’s pantry, below the crystal where it belonged. On this shelf was also a collection of carved Chinese rosewood bases from which to choose which fit under each vase. Better than a coaster, don’t you think? This glass-doored pantry also contained a large collection of sterling and old Sheffield trays, pitchers, epergnes and the like.
Part of my silver lesson included how to discern fine silver. “It has a texture like butter,” she told me. “Run your hand over the surface and you will see what I mean. New silver has a harsh feel that can only dissipate through years of handling and polishing.” Along with some serving pieces, the upstairs pantry also held several sets of china, crystal and sterling flatware. Lalique apparently didn’t make the cut, but the Royal Copenhagen Flora Danica china did, and there was a complete service for 12. If you want to pick some up, I priced the plates on Replacements (that would be used) at $1,200. EACH.
But back to the main floor. Surrounding the seating areas in the main rooms were walls filled with notable paintings and antique sconces and other fine decorative accessories. There were also antique French vitrines filled with remarkable knick-knacks like signed Faberge pieces and sideboards presenting huge arrangements of hand-made sea shell flowers. The windows were hung with both perfectly tailored silk draperies and Venetian blinds. The blinds were of course appropriate to the period of the home.
At the rear of the home is a newer addition, probably from the early 60’s, which was much larger than any of the original rooms and was built expressly to display a Chinese folding screen which completely spanned the far wall of the room. It sat on a custom-made concave shelf about four feet from the floor with recessed art lighting built in above it. The walls of this room were completely paneled in wormy chestnut, which is now an endangered species and not available except as salvage lumber. Centering the South wall was a period Georgian mantle. The floors were parquet and a huge paned window looked out on the rear brick terrace which was designed to display a remarkable collection of antique garden ornaments, including a cupid fountain, equestrian statues, sculpture and vessels.
Attending to the many needs of the home was something we all desperately need: a staff. When we first met, Mr. and Mrs. Anton employed a butler, a cook, a laundress and two maids. They weren’t all there all the time, but frequently enough for me to become acquainted. Winston, the butler, was full time, however, and also served as a chauffeur when needed. The car was always a top-of-the-line Cadillac and the rear seat was hers. I often wondered if she negotiated the price or just wrote a check for the sticker. I suspect the latter because somehow I just can’t get a mental picture of her haggling over the price of a car.
The degree to which she depended upon her staff came to light one evening after Mr. Anton had passed on when she and I were both invited to the same Holiday party. About an hour past the appointed time, I became concerned that she was not there, as she had told me she was coming. I mentioned my concern to the hostess who comforted me with the reason for her tardiness. According to the hostess, she had been told “Honey, I’m sorry to be late. I’m waiting for Winston to get here to press my dress.” It wasn’t that she couldn’t press her own dress, it was just that ladies didn’t do such things.
The first Christmas which I had the pleasure of working for her was a real experience for me- the first of many, as I would learn throughout my life. She took the time to teach me exactly how she wanted things done and why they should be done that way. It was never in a condescending way, but in a loving way which she knew I appreciated. Christmas was never installed before the 15th of December and came down as early as possible on the 26th. (“About five o’clock on Christmas Day, I just can’t stand to look at it anymore,” she once told me. “I just want it all out of here!”)
It was always done in the same manner and was always in perfect taste. Only fresh greenery, berries and blossoms were used in a simple but elegant manner. There was an elegant fresh wreath on the front door. It could have pinecones and a mixture of greenery, but only a red bow-“A great big fat one.” That was it for the front of the house. No lights or anything else. Just the wreath- but large enough to make a statement.
Inside, the Old Paris jardinerres on the twin hall consoles were changed from their daily fare of fresh lemon leaves to boughs of noble fir and perhaps some long-needle pine and holly again with only natural pinecones as an adornment. The staircase was festooned with fresh evergreen roping and beautiful ribbons. Later, we added Italian papier mache angels which she had gotten through her Kansas City designer. There was a beautiful blue glass bowl on a chest in the Morning Room (the middle room of the main floor) which we filled with the same materials and brought out the Venetian glass wise men which she had actually purchased in Venice to place on another chest. We layed gold-leaf ceramic fruit on a bed of fresh greenery across that room’s mantle (under the oil portrait of Mr. Anton) and added a large pink poinsettia to the coffee table.
In the North room of the house which she called the drawing room and I thought of as the music room, was featured a small French carved marble fireplace. At Christmas, that fireplace mantle was centered with a Boehm porcelain madonna which was flanked by two white poinsettias in antique French golden urns with hand-painted landscapes on the front.
The corner of this room was where the Christmas tree always resided. The tree is a story in itself. It was always long-needle pine (which is a pain to decorate), but not just one tree. We had the nursery take two trees in similar height and remove just enough branches to allow them to be pushed together. When the trunks were as close together as possible, they were strapped together tightly at several points down the trunks. The finished look was glorious. It really seemed as if we found an impossibly fat tree out in the woods somewhere. No one would have considered that we faked it.
And when it came time to decorate the tree, I always thought we could have sold tickets for people to watch. By the time I arrived, Winston had brought all the necessary equipment from the basement storage room, including many lights and ornaments which were an art collection in themselves. He laid out all the lights on the floor with the strands radiating across the room. They were lit at this point to be certain that they were functional. On the smaller loveseats which flanked the fireplace, he had unrolled the reams of tissue paper from the blown glass ornaments and arranged them lovingly on the cushions, nestled in their wrappings. Mrs. Anton took a seat on the larger sofa across the room from the tree at which I stood as I began to add the lights.
Once the tree was lit, we took a moment to admire and proceeded with the ornaments. Winston continued to unwrap, handing me pieces as they were unveiled for the season. Mrs. Anton allowed me to fill the tree to a certain degree, but then took ownership. At this point, Winston would hand me an ornament and she would point at the holes where the tree was missing an ornament. My job was to dutifully place the ornament in just the right spot. This went on for quite some time until we had finally unwrapped and placed every ornament available. This was always the grand finale of the Christmas decorating, and at that moment, ours roles again changed. Winston and I picked up the wrappings and returned them to the basement. Mr. Anton was usually home by this time, so he joined us in the Garden Room at the rear of the house for cocktails, which Winston had somehow come up with out of thin air.
The Christmas feature of the Garden room where we were drinking was a huge fresh wreath, again with only a red bow, mounted on a garden brick wall directly across from the huge window. There were a few fresh red poinsettias in this room, but again it was classically simple. For Christmas Eve and Day, we would add several arrangements of fresh flowers to the home, primarily in the dining room where red roses and holly in a monogrammed silver centerpiece were the tradition. They were always beautiful, as she expected, but never overdone. “One never wants to be ‘show-offy’ ,” she once told me.
I know that having read the description of their lifestyle, this seems to belie everything I have told you, but it was absolutely true. Mr. and Mrs. Anton lived exactly as I described, but they were NEVER ostentatious. For them, and her in particular, it was just the way one should live. She made everyone welcome and readily opened her home to many charity functions and organization meetings. All one needed to do was ask-I don’t ever recall hearing that she denied anyone access to her home for a philanthropic purpose. It was the truly beautiful home of a truly beautiful lady. Our city is very different without her.
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White House on Westover Road 