LA races to save a vital piece of history – Batchelder tiles found amid wildfire ash

The Guardian

25-02-2025

The mission is clear: retrieve the pristine tiles from a field of ash and rubble.
With a hammer and chisel, Cliff Douglas taps on the perimeters of a decorative tile etched with the image of a peacock until it comes loose in his hands.
'We've got it,' said Cliff, a mason racing to save these historic tiles that once defined the architecture of Altadena homes – many of which were destroyed in January's wildfire. Amid the ruins, brick chimneys covered in iridescent Batchelder tiles are the only markers where homes once stood.
These tiles are relics of the American Arts and Crafts movement, popular during the turn of the 20th century, when the artist Ernest Batchelder handcrafted the tiles from his backyard kiln. The tiles at the Christensen family's home on Altadena Drive survived a century and a wildfire when the rest of the house did not. To Cliff, known in inner circles as a tile historian, the Christensens' tiles are particularly special because of the unique glaze.
Determined to salvage what remains, Cliff and a team of volunteers are working to remove, restore and return these tiles to their owners before the bulldozers move in to clear the debris from Altadena's burn zone.
'This is what the mission is all about,' said Cliff, cradling a tile. 'It's about getting this art out of the fireplace and back to where the owners can enjoy it again.'
Days before the fire swept out of Eaton Canyon and took her home, Susan Christensen sat in the living room of her English Revival home watching the Rose Parade – a New Year's Day tradition – on the TV above her Batchelder-tiled fireplace. Now these same tiles are scattered on her front lawn as Cliff taps and chisels through the ruins of her home.
Susan wants her fireplace back.
Some day in new Altadena, the tiles may be the only throughline to the past.
The goal is ambitious: rescue and restore tiles from as many houses as possible, said Darcy Douglas, Cliff's daughter and a member of the family masonry business based in South Pasadena.
What started as a weekend tile rescue effort now permeates the Douglas family's life – including their backyard, where many rescued Batchelder tiles wait to be restored. In his downtime, Cliff pieces together broken tiles like jigsaw puzzles and retouches them with the tiniest paintbrush strokes.
'This is the merging of his passion and giving back,' said Janet Douglas about her husband.
In January, Cliff was moved to tears as he watched footage of the fire devouring Altadena homes with Batchelder-tiled fireplaces he once restored. He wanted to offer free services to help homeowners save the tiles. He asked Darcy to spread the word.
Naturally, she turned to social media.
In another part of town, neighbors Eric Garland and Stanley Zucker had also noticed the pristine Batchelder tiles gleaming in leveled neighborhoods. They wondered: who had the expertise to save them?
Then they saw Darcy's post offering Cliff's masonry services.
Save the Tiles, an ad hoc organization to preserve Altadena's history, was born. It unites community members in a collective effort to rescue as many tiles as possible.
'I mean, posting my dad's phone number on Reddit is always questionable, but I'm glad I did it in the right one,' said Darcy.
Since the mission started, the rescue crew has saved tiles from 15 homes, said Darcy. Crews are spread throughout the burn area. At a property on Beverly Way, Martin and Jorge Vargas, a father and son team that has worked with Cliff for 30 years gingerly removes a Batchelder tile emblazoned with an ornate bird standing in a flower field.
'You have to be really gentle,' said Jorge.
For now, the rhythmic clicking of hammers and chisels are the only sounds that pierce the silence. No bulldozers have arrived yet, but the army corps of engineers has begun clearing fire-damaged properties of debris, making the tile rescue a race.
The scale of the mission is daunting. More than 200 of these Batchelder-tile fireplaces have been identified in Altadena's burn zone, said Garland. Fewer than half of the owners have been contacted and have consented to the tile retrieval.
'We're terrified that this will be an exercise in failure by degree,' said Garland.
The new tile rescue organization has many needs, including funds to support Cliff and his crews. They launched a fundraising site to support the rental of storage space and an artist studio for the restoration effort, said Zucker. Their command center is often just an open space on the job site.
They also need boxes.
'In my car, we have tiles that are being stored in a burnt-out dishwasher rack because we are working so quickly that we didn't have enough cardboard boxes,' said Darcy.
During the tile rescue mission, the homeowners should be present.
'It's a sacred pursuit,' said Garland.
Mike Christensen sits on a low landscaping wall next to his wife Susan and watches the crew carefully extract their tiles. He can't stop smiling. He's witnessing the intersection of expertise and passion – both in Cliff and the artist behind the tiles.
Starting in 1910, Ernest Batchelder fired his first tiles with a portable kiln in the backyard of his Pasadena home. The tiles' muted tones soon became sought after, and Batchelder's work helped popularize the Arts and Crafts movement in California.
The durability of the tiles – to survive both a century and a wildfire – is a testament to Batchelder's craftsmanship, said Garland. His work is emblematic of the movement that gave rise to Altadena.
It would be a shame to let the Batchelder legacy end here, said Mike. The rescue service is free for fire victims. If saving the tiles is not a priority, homeowners should allow the crew to save them.
'They're just worth preserving,' he said.
For the Christensens, the worst part of losing their home is wrestling with the homesickness that lives in their bones. It's a yearning that constantly whispers.
Before the fire, this block was a living piece of California's eclectic history. One home was built by a founder of American Express. Another was rumored to be once owned by the mobster Bugsy Siegel.
Here, financial history intersects with mob lore.
Mike gestures to a neighboring lot, where another Batchelder fireplace stands alone amid the rubble. Then to another in the distance. The tiles form an unbroken thread.
'We're putting the house back on the same footprint,' said Mike.