Peter Jensen

The Hispanic/Morish type was most popular in Los Angeles, but San Diego has its examples, including the well-preserved Alta Canada Apartments at 2448 Adams Avenue (at Texas).

The courtyard is reappearing in San Diego apartment complexes and attached condominiums, especially in housing for low-income families. As the front porch can unite a single-family home with its street, neighborhood, and neighbors, so can the courtyard bring people together in a more social, supportive setting, prevent crime (according to some modern developers), and help raise children who are healthier because they have a safe place to play.

Daybreak Grove in Escondido. Two designs built in Escondido in the last two years, Daybreak Grove and Sunrise Place, were covered in Time magazine.

Courtyard housing has long existed in San Diego. The bungalow courts of Uptown, Hillcrest, City Heights, University Heights, and North Park, whose six to ten prim, tiny houses cluster around a common garden and path on a single lot, flirt with our romantic housing ideals. Most were built along or near the old streetcar lines of Adams Avenue, Fifth Avenue, 30th Street, and University Avenue. Over 200 examples can still be seen today on a drive through the city. One favorite of bungalow historians is on Robinson Avenue one block east of Cabrillo Freeway (163). The greatest density of existing courts is in the area bounded by Park Boulevard, Adams Avenue, Interstate 805, and University Avenue.

One favorite of bungalow historians is this one on Robinson Avenue one block east of 163. The greatest density of existing courts is bounded by Park Boulevard, Adams Avenue, Interstate 805, and University Avenue.

In the spring 1988 edition of The Journal of San Diego History (San Diego Historical Society), SDSU geography professors James R. Curtis and Larry Ford reported “a total of278 proper bungalow courts had been constructed prior to World War II. In addition, there were 158 half courts.” (Their source was the detailed Sanborn fire insurance maps of the area.)

The genre grew more sophisticated as courtyard apartment buildings celebrated the Hispanic/Moorish influence— compact, multi-tiered piles of stucco walls, tiled roofs, arches, splashing fountains, and iron railings. This building type was most popular in Los Angeles, but San Diego has its examples, including the well-preserved Alta Canada Apartments at 2448 Adams Avenue (at Texas). These buildings created an illusion of living on an estate, even if you occupied a studio unit, because the courtyard and general presence of the building was “yours.”

“Most elements that are called courtyards in San Diego are actually light [and ventilation] wells; a hole in the middle of a building too confining to spend time in,” says San Diego architect Christine Killory. These are tall, fairly dark spaces in many of the larger apartment complexes built in the 1960s and ’70s (units along Parker Place at the north edge of Mission Bay, for example).

With her partner and husband Rene Davids, Killory has seen two of their designs for affordable courtyard housing built in Escondido in the last two years: Daybreak Grove (1256 E. Washington at Ash) and Sunrise Place (1245 E. Grand at Ash). The projects were covered in Time (December 27, 1993) and received a national Honor Award from American Institute of Architects in May 1994.

“Even tenements in New York could be said to have ‘courtyards.’ They were, for the most part, unsatisfactory. You can’t go out there.”

“Going out there” is a key element of the New Courtyard, but it can be easily confused with “going through there.” Many San Diego apartment buildings built between 1950 and the present were simple, oversized boxes with units accessed via balcony walkways. These walkways might overlook an open space, but they were a barrier, a distancing element that separated the front door from communal space. The doors themselves were anonymous, differentiated only by brass numbers, deep beneath the overhang. When enough room existed in a “courtyard” to do something in it besides pass through with groceries in hand, the design rubric of the time called for extensive pavement and a recreational element — a swimming pool. This apartment form is prevalent in the Claire-mont and SDSU areas, a clear response to housing large numbers of people on or near busy boulevards.

The effect, in many cases, was an appearance not unlike the sacrificial well at Chichén Itzá. To use the pool, one exposed oneself, sacrificed privacy, dove in — or felt pushed to do so. Complaints about noise led to tension. Despite the attendant outdoor furniture, it was not a place that spurred conversation; after all, anyone could overhear you because the hard, sparsely landscaped surfaces (most of them unarticulated planes) reflected and amplified noise.

As apartment and condominium complexes grew larger, pools were segregated in their own compound, often with a “rec” or community room. All pretense of a courtyard being anything other than a passageway was abandoned. Front doors continued to be hidden — meant to be opened and closed quickly. Patios or decks were walled rooms offering no contact with neighbors. An example is Park Place downtown, the low-rise Mediterranean-style condominiums on Kettner at G Street.

At the height of this move towards impersonal density, the courtyard is returning. Carlos Rodriguez, architect in the San Diego office of Lorimer and Case, designed the Mercado Apartments, a 144-unit, affordable-housing apartment complex covering a 4.3-acre block at 2001 Newton Avenue in Barrio Logan. It is the first major residential project in the neighborhood in more than 50 years, according to Rodriguez and the developer, Metropolitan Area Action Committee, a 28-year-old, nonprofit social service agency.

“Outdoor spaces were important here,” he says. “If you look at housing patterns in older neighborhoods like Barrio Logan, you see the hierarchy from public to private: street, sidewalk, fence line, landscape, porch, front door.” You can spot these elements in the facade — remarkably varied for a low-cost project, with detailed metal railings, arches, and rich colors, Each courtyard is defined by two buildings (no taller than two stories) grouped close enough to create semiprivacy. Rodriguez, who grew up in the neighborhood, hopes that tenants will see the landscaped courtyards as a place to meet neighbors, gather, let their children play. The walkways are broad enough, for example, to accommodate chairs and tables at a neighborhood potluck dinner or Fourth of July celebration.

Mercado opened in late June, with some construction on the south wings continuing through July, so it’s too early to tell how people will use community spaces. Tenants are moving in as it opens, and there is a waiting list. One disturbing element of the Mercado is its parking facilities. The two lots are roughly 150- by-170 feet (100 cars each) and, until shade trees (jacarandas and other flowering species) take over, will invite comparisons to a small Wal-Mart. The architect counters that cars were centrally grouped so that they wouldn’t take over the more pedestrian scale of the rest of the project. Parking garages or carports were intentionally avoided as “too confining.” Overall, the Mercado looks and feels very upscale. It would be right at home in the Golden Triangle.

Another downtown project, Hacienda Townhomes, is bringing affordable housing to the tough Centre City East area next to Interstate 5 (350 17th Street between J and K). This is a territory where drug dealers, the mentally ill, and homeless people feel more at home than families. Rents begin at $270 a month and will be controlled.

Developer Michael Winn says that the townhomes are “the first family-oriented housing project in Centre City East in over half a century.” Working with architect Stephen Borow of Carlsbad, he built a courtyard plan that invites playing children. Two large metal and plastic play structures (each with multiple monkey bars, climbing ladders, and lookouts) occupy — along with their soft sand landing surfaces — two-thirds of the courtyard between the parallel wings.

The project exceeds what you would anticipate for low-cost housing in this neighborhood. Borow used an innovative townhome plan for the four-story project so that 50 percent (25) of the units’ front doors open directly onto 275 feet of courtyard. The other 27 units on the third floor open to a walkway that is similar to any straightforward apartment building’s, although it does undulate a bit. Courtyard-level units have a tiny porch (“tot lots,” Borow calls them) with gate, but because of cost constraints the facade isn’t varied enough in other ways to tell one entry from another. At press time, families were moving in, so a settling-in period may see tenants personalize their entry spaces with potted plants and chairs, but the cliff-dwelling scale of Hacienda Townhomes may intimidate them into inactivity. Another troubling element is the bridgelike walkways between wings. They offer views and convenience but give the building a disturbing, institutional look. Masking, softening — perhaps with vigorous vines — is needed immediately.

The playground will bond the families here, just as children bond the adults of any neighborhood where it is safe to play outside (in this case, fences keep criminals away). And the developer has also put a community room right on the courtyard, with plans to use it for day care, classes, potlucks, community meetings — all encouraged and led by a program director.

At Killory’s and Davids’ Daybreak Grove, compact playground equipment (a multicolored unit that looks like a cluster of springs and pipes bolted together) and other innovative elements help draw residents into the common area. A small community vegetable garden of two raised beds, each about 8 feet square, is tended by residents and the rewards (mostly tomatoes) reaped. A freestanding laundry room doubles as a 16-foot-tall climbing tower and stage (one side is entirely stairs). Lawns shaded by Tipuana tipu trees invite sitting, even picnics. Night lighting is soft, directed up into the branches. A lone trash can (not part of the architects’ plan) has been designated as a communal aluminum can recycling center, with all proceeds going to an occasional carne asada barbecue for the community.

The best clue to a courtyard complex’s success as a place to live may be one of the simplest to observe. Enter an old bungalow court or Spanish-court apartment in San Diego, and you’ll almost always find a few front doors open. The breeze flows inside. So do sounds of splashing fountains or neighbors’ footsteps.