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The Editors Mailbox

How I remember Sam Maloof

Asa Christiana, editor, Fine Woodworking magazine

13 users recommend

Sam Maloof felt like an old friend from the moment I met him in 2005.

He demonstrated how low arms are better placed to help the sitter rise.

The Maloof property is at the top of Carnelian Street, in Rancho Cucamonga. As I drove up Carnelian on the first day, I didn't know what to expect.

Sam had daily visitors, and he gave each of them plenty of his time.

The new house gave Sam a chance to design and build a second spiral staircase. He kept a mallet and gouge at the bottom so he could work on the carved detailing from time to time.

Sam quickly shaped the arms for a rocker while I snapped away. It was wonderful to see how smooth, fast, and precise his movements were.

Sam Maloof felt like an old friend from the moment I met him in 2005.

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I dialed Sam Maloof’s number timidly in 2005, just another writer calling for a piece of the icon. My idea was to do a twist on the typical Maloof homage, asking him instead to offer advice to aspiring designer/makers. His longtime assistant, Roz Bock, put my call through and I suddenly was talking to the man. He was friendly and open right away, even though I was a total stranger. He said he wasn’t sure if he had much to say to guide others, but that he was game to try.

When I turned into the driveway of his famed compound a few months later and found his office, he was just as down-to-earth and accommodating in person. During the two days I spent with him, we were interrupted regularly by visitors. All were welcomed, given a tour, and given plenty of his time. I know this drove his staff nuts, because it left his daily schedule in tatters and did nothing to shorten his multi-year backlist, but it made him beloved to the world. I am just one of many who visited Sam's world and came away enchanted and inspired.

At 89, Sam still insisted on doing at least the rough shaping on all of his chair parts, muscling them surehandedly across the bandsaw table. And he moved with the grace of a much younger man through the various construction projects on his sloped property. He drove me to lunch the first day in a brand-new Porsche convertible. He did about 85 mph, chatted constantly, and ran over a few road cones while he reached for his cell phone. It was a slightly surreal ride in the California sun.

I was humbled when he left me alone in his old house for a day of uninterrupted shooting. I gingerly moved my umbrella lights through his handmade doors, around the artwork of his famous friends, between iconic pieces of his furniture, through the life he and Alfreda had shared. They say Sam was never the same after she died in 1998. He moved out of the house, had it declared a historic landmark, and built a new one nearby.

It's been about a week now since Sam passed, and since then I’ve realized that he was the first real national treasure that I’ve known. “National” is the right word because his was a uniquely American story. The son of Lebanese immigrants, he served in the Army, trusted his intuition always, became a unique entrepreneur, and made furniture for two U.S. presidents.

Even if he wasn’t such a charming man, his furniture would have made him famous. Being self-taught and one of the first of his kind, he was free to make his own rules. When he found flush drawers tedious to fit, he recessed them in a rounded frame. When he needed curved parts, he balanced them on the bandsaw table, making freeform cuts that would torture the most open-minded shop teacher. He put screws in his joints, used sapwood, and sanded through laminations, but he built his pieces one at a time, letting each develop a life of its own. They’ve proven almost impossible to copy. I’ve never seen accurate reproduction of his rocker. Try matching the sinuous crest rail, with its complex interplay of hard lines and soft surfaces, draped curves, and tight arcs—his three staff craftsmen can do it, but they’ve been with him for years. He repeated a handful of pieces again and again, and was always making improvements, so every new version contained all of his skill and experience.

I didn't really understand his furniture until I saw it in person. Before that I loved a few pieces, but I'll admit I thought the rest looked a little dated. That changed when I saw dozens of pieces side by side, from all different stages of his career, set in real rooms--so much variety yet all dark and lovely and connected by a single personality. I would encourage anyone to see an exhibition of Maloof's work.

After spending a couple of days with the man and his furniture, I started to realize that one resembled the other: Walnut-colored skin, a slightly bunched muscularity, even the desire to please. Maloof wanted clients to love their pieces. He put function above all else. He guaranteed all of his work and would take pieces back at any time for repairs.

It is an understatement to say the trip was inspiring. Like my other two favorite woodworkers--Wharton Esherick and George Nakashima--Maloof's creativity didn’t stop at furniture. He created his world, surrounding himself with beauty and grace: His life, houses, art collection, techniques, furniture, everything from carved door handles to custom window frames to beautiful rooflines, it all emanated from that same generous, inquisitive soul.

On the last day I was there, I worked briefly in Sam’s new home, shooting a few rare pieces. When he came in for a midday nap, I tried to leave. But he insisted I stay and get what I needed. He seemed completely content to go to sleep as I moved around just outside his open door.

--Asa Christiana

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Sam Maloof's first commission

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Maloof on Design

Comments (5)

MendelPotok writes: When Sam left, it was like closing a window to the breeze of creativity. He was one of the great talents, I will miss him dearly.
Posted: 1:17 pm on September 15th

AsaC writes: I'm glad this touched some people. Sam's life touched so many people. Greg, I added some photos to this blog. To see the best photos I shot during my two days, check out the article that resulted from that trip: http://www.taunton.com/finewoodworking/ProjectsAndDesign/ProjectsAndDesignPDF.aspx?id=24704
--Asa
Posted: 9:45 pm on June 14th

GT64 writes: I was indeed fortunate enough to attend Maloof's memorial and reception. I am in a state of stunned respect for an icon I did not know personally, but through these experiences somehow felt touched for a brief period of time. I will always remember these events, but more he has at this point effected my life and my woodworking.

Gary Thatcher
Posted: 5:12 pm on June 13th

B.L. Zeebub writes: I've read several accounts of meeting "the Man" and they all reflect Mr. Maloof's generosity. I am sure his spirit remains in all he touched. As a country we have indeed lost a great American. As a community of craftsmen we are privileged and privy to that spirit and the work of his hands.

My only regret that is that I did not make that short trek out to his compound during one of my many trips out to SoCal. This fall, I will remedy that and kick myself all the way for my procrastination. The business can wait even if Sam could not.

Godspeed Sam.

Always,
J.C.
Posted: 9:30 am on June 10th

gmoney writes: Thanks Asa for such an intimate portrait of Sam Maloof and your experience with him. It seemed as though I was sitting on the edge of the chair reading the details with wide eyes. It would be an absolute treat to see some of your photos.

Thanks again,

Greg
Posted: 6:52 pm on June 3rd

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