The woman's laced up boots pressed together like the lips of her smile. She sat erect and slightly forward, a pad of newsprint flat on her long black and plain skirt that covered to top of her boots. Her right hand held a pencil ready.

 
The architect dropped a few dark lines in perspective, quickly added half tone shading with the side of her pencil to clearly show the merger of heavy paneled wall with the deeply coffered ceiling. Mr. Hearst found the ornate gold leafed Russian Rococo ceiling in an old church in Moscow, had to have it, bought the church for the ceiling, had it dismantled and shipped to the construction site on the other side of the world.

 
"Like this." The architect turned the paper towards the media mogul. "Your newsprint paper is now worth much more than the words you put on it."

He ignored her jab. "Exactly what I wanted!" He smiled, picked up the glass and toasted the woman. He enjoyed the intellectual and artistic bartering power of his dear friend and trusted architect, Julia Morgan.

Julia enjoyed just as much, the bantering nature of William Randolph Hearst. He was a man who got what he wanted, true. It was her job and pleasure to put it all together in proper working and aesthetic order and she did it. Every time.

 

Architect Julia Morgan stood unique because she was a prolific first: the first woman admitted to the prestigious Ecole des Beaux-Arts in Paris where she graduated with honors, the first woman civil engineer and the first woman architect in California, the first woman to design university campus master plans, noted commercial buildings, stunning theaters, boys and girls clubs, hotels and private residences. More than four hundred buildings still stand as strong testament to her prolific dedication.

Whether working within the stiff and stolen language of neo-classism, whether wrestling modern materials into the quiet simplicity of Spanish Mission style, whether crowning with nursery rhyme charm, a strong stone battlement set on the banks of a rushing river with a hopelessly romantic mountain chalet, Julia Morgan weaved it all together seamlessly.

 

Julia Morgan stands unique because she took no stylistic stand.Instead, she stood comfortable in whatever style her clients wished to wear. She moved gracefully and with confidence into and out of any style.

 
With a deep understanding of structure and superb attention to detail, her spaces always worked. Her structures always held and her clients, always happy.

 

 

 

"Hello Miss Julia," I would say. "It is a distinct pleasure to meet you. I have long admired your work."

"Yes but why?" She met my eyes, sincerely curious.

"You do have a style, you know."

She extended her hand, "Yes," she agreed and I took it.

 
And that's pretty much the best way for me to describe the Architect, Julia Morgan.

 
She possessed the "Style of Yes" and she backed her every yes with all her ability, all her knowledge, all her energy and all her passion. I respect that.

 
A lot.