Image courtesy memphis and shelby county room, benjamin L. hooks central library
An old newspaper clipping showed the “House of Happiness” under construction in 1935.
Dear Vance: I recently came across a reference to a home in Midtown called “The House of Happiness.” Where was this place, and what was so happy about it? — H.D., Memphis.
Dear H.D.: In September and October of 1935, Memphians could tune their radio dials to WMC and listen to a program called House of Happiness. According to The Commercial Appeal, the half-hour show featured “the trials and tribulations of Ted and Sally, and the ways they can be aided by prominent Memphis firms in completing their House of Happiness.”
The newspaper helpfully explained, “Although Ted and Sally are a mythical couple, the home and the business firms involved in the program are realities.”
The “House of Happiness” — so named because every feature was designed to make the home owner very happy — was constructed at 705 University, across the street from what is now Rhodes College. The house served as a special cross-promotion of The Commercial Appeal, the WMC radio station, and the Federal Housing Administration to encourage people to buy new homes. If they already owned a house, the property served as a showroom for Memphis companies who supplied the appliances, furniture, curtains, tile, bathroom fixtures, lighting — everything a home owner could possibly need.
I was surprised to discover the architect chosen for this project. E.L. Harrison created such Art Deco landmarks as Fairview Junior High School and the Farnsworth Building (now 88 Union Center), along with the Memphis Steam Laundry (since demolished), the latter built in a truly bizarre Venetian Gothic style. An architect who specialized in such stunning monuments wouldn’t seem a likely choice for a “normal” residence.
But perhaps he sensed this particular home was ahead of its time. Architect Brantley Ellzey, in fact, recently mentioned it on Facebook, noting that, “The ‘House of Happiness,’ in spite of its mild-mannered demeanor, is one of the most influential houses ever built in this city.”
Why is that, exactly? Well, Harrison based his design on homes one might find across New England. In fact, the front entrance is a copy of an eighteenth-century cottage in Massachusetts. Ellzey observed that 705 University “marked a turning point in domestic architecture in Memphis, when developers turned down the more highly detailed styles of the 1920s and ’30s in favor of the more pared-down Colonial style, one of the most popular designs for houses in Memphis to this day.”
It certainly stands out from the rows of bungalows in the Vollintine-Evergreen neighborhood, the Tudor Revival homes nearby, or the Gothic Revival campus of Rhodes College.
Ted chimed in: “What I like is the way I can always get pure, taste-free ice cubes in five minutes. It’s Coolerator for me, every time!”
But aside from its design, why were “Ted and Sally” so happy to live there? For one thing, it was spacious. The single-story home originally had three large bedrooms, two full baths, a dining room and separate breakfast room, and a roomy kitchen, with a pantry, full basement, and unfinished attic.
Other details made even the most critical visitors, well, happy. In October 1935, members of the Better Housing Committee, a national organization, toured the home and shared their opinions with local reporters. Mrs. Merrill Hudson, committee chairman, observed, “With so much cabinet space and plenty of room, such a kitchen would lend itself to the happiness of any housewife.”
Another member liked that the architect included plans for converting the attic into a playroom. “Children love to play,” she said, “and the attic shuts them off to themselves without bothering other members of the family.”
Image courtesy memphis and shelby county room, benjamin L. hooks central library
No details about the “House of Happiness” were left out of almost-daily coverage provided by The Commercial Appeal. Readers were especially impressed with the number of closets.
Other committee members seemed obsessed with the many closets — admittedly a problem in homes from that period — with one noting, “Every housewife has a collection of things she likes to keep, yet not in full view. The generous closet space of the ‘House of Happiness’ is one of its most attractive features.”
The women liked “the large fireplace in the living room” (without providing any details about it), along with the “spaciousness of the breakfast room with its built-in cabinet, and the house’s window arrangement, which provides plenty of light and sun in every room during certain hours of the day.”
They also told reporters that “the large backyard is suitable for a most attractive vegetable or flower garden, and the spacious front yard can be landscaped to any family’s delight.”
Still, most of their praise was directed at the housewife. Did you notice? Was there nothing here for the lazy husband, who (presumably) rarely helped with the cooking or other chores around the house? Well, that fellow would smile when he ventured out back to the single-car garage, because the “House of Happiness” — a “completely planned and finished home” — even came with a brand-new Chevrolet.
Yes, but what did Ted and Sally have to say about all this? “Although they have had to budget the cost of their home because of their moderate average income,” said the newspaper, “they have insisted on A-1 materials and workmanship.” So, every Saturday night, Ted and Sally invited friends to their new home, with everyone chatting for precisely one-half hour about the local companies who provided those A-1 materials: Fischer Heating and Plumbing, DeSoto Hardware, Dawkins Electric, and Carruthers Lumber, among a dozen others.
Ted and Sally were unusually excited about their newfangled “Coolerator” (the “air-conditioned refrigerator”), provided by a local company called Serv-ICE. One night, Sally told her friends (and radio listeners), “It’s beautiful! And to think, we’ll never have tasteless or dried-out foods again.” Ted chimed in: “What I like is the way I can always get pure, taste-free ice cubes in five minutes. It’s Coolerator for me, every time!”
Although most episodes of House of Happiness featured these two talking endlessly about their appliances, light fixtures, or furnace, one special episode involved considerably more drama. Here’s how the CA summed it up: “While attending a fraternity dance at a nearby home, the two newlyweds and their friends are startled with the appearance of a fire in the area in which their house is situated.”
Now, this was a radio show, remember. Reproducing the sound effects of a dance party and a house fire must have challenged the WMC sound crew. Why go to all that trouble? I bet one of the sponsors provided fire extinguishers — or homeowner’s insurance.
I found it rather amusing that the show presented, as one newspaper put it, “the many humorous difficulties that confront the home builder.” As anyone who has ever watched Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House (1948) with Cary Grant and Myrna Loy, or more recently The Money Pit (1986) with Tom Hanks and Shelley Long, home owners who encounter those “home-building difficulties” rarely consider them “humorous.”
Of course, most of us don’t get too excited about our “air-conditioned” refrigerators, either.
The “House of Happiness” was completed in 1936. During and after its construction, it was open every day for tours. My pal Wayne Dowdy, general manager of the history department at the Benjamin L. Hooks Central Library, turned up a photo (too grainy to reproduce here — sorry!) showing the front yard jammed with people waiting to venture inside.
photograph by vance lauderdale
From the outside, the “House of Happiness” has changed very little in almost 80 years.
So, after everything was finished, what lucky Memphian got the keys to such a famous home? Well, I uncovered a minor mystery about that. City directories don’t list the property for several years after 1936, which is curious. Even if the house stood vacant — or was still serving as a model home — that address should have been listed.
At any rate, in 1940 the home found a buyer, and it was a rather prominent Memphian. Merrill Kremer, president of one of this city’s largest advertising agencies, moved in, with his wife, Sylvia. If they had children who took advantage of that attic playroom, I don’t know about them.
Drive by today, and from University the house looks unchanged since it opened more than 80 years ago. Only a close look reveals the original wood clapboard façade has been sheathed in siding. A side view along Lyndale, however, shows that later owners added a two-car garage that matches the house, linked to it by a nice sunroom and deck.
Inside, the general layout remains basically the same, and the nicely carved fireplace and bathroom tiles are original. The “Coolerator” has been replaced with modern appliances, bathroom fixtures have been updated, and the attic is now a fourth bedroom (with bath).
Quite a few people have occupied this fine home over the years. I could name them all, but I’ll respect their privacy. Still, I’ll share this much: It’s a real shame that the “House of Happiness” never had any owners named Ted or Sally.
Special thanks to my pal, Summer Scott, for providing a guided tour of the "House of Happiness" and sharing photos of interior details as they look today.
Got a question for Vance?
Email: askvance@memphismagazine.com
Mail: Vance Lauderdale, Memphis magazine, P.O. Box 1738, Memphis, TN 38101
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