After Frank Lloyd Wright’s death, in 1959, Usonia went into mourning. Nevermore would his organic volumes and prairie horizontals grace our sad, entropic little planet. That is, until 2004, when enterprising contractor Joe Massaro happened upon the blueprints for a Wright residence designed for his recently purchased island on Lake Mahopac in Putnam County, New York. Joe “didn’t know who this Frank Lloyd Wright guy was,” but upon reviewing the drawings, “realized he was pretty smart.”
Thus began the Massaro House. Joe dragged construction equipment across the frozen lake to build it and used the property as a getaway for fifteen years, attempting (unsuccessfully) to sell it for much of that period. After Covid, daughter and ex-restaurateur Donna Massaro decided instead to recoup losses by opening the home to the public.
The tours answer everything you’d want to know about a Frank Lloyd Wright–conceived masterpiece: how Joe built it, when Joe built it, how Joe’s startling ascent through the sheet metal industry brought him to his current island-owning heights, and what design choices Joe made in the absence of direction from Mr. Wright. Among these were the deletion of a staircase descending into the water from the cantilevered deck; some iffy lighting concepts; an eerily proportioned, semiaquatic mural inspired by a painting that Joe saw in a Wright house over in Rockland County; and a helipad and an American flag painted on the roof.
These and other liberties taken by the Massaros did not escape the notice of the Frank Lloyd Wright Foundation’s legal team, nor did the family’s claim that the house was an original Wright. (There is, it bears mention, a bona fide Wright on their island, the Chahroudi Cottage. It was built by the architect in 1951 for engineer Ahmed K. Chahroudi as a guesthouse for a much grander commission: the very house whose drawings Joe would rediscover more than fifty years later. Massaro had initially approached the foundation to supervise the project, but the two sides fell out over financial matters.)
“Not an architect, and not a New Yorker, but have fallen in love with NYRA.”
The family concludes the tour by pulling out poster boards featuring side-by-side comparisons of the blueprints for Fallingwater (1937) and for the Massaro House. While both homes are just over five thousand square feet, the Massaro House has twenty-six skylights, while Fallingwater, they claim, possesses a paltry five. Fallingwater’s largest cantilever is fifteen feet, whereas the Massaro House’s deck spans a stately twenty-eight. Another point of distinction: Visiting Fallingwater costs $42 per person; the Massaro House costs $150.
Seeking a more thorough communion with the site? At last, you can now experience this FrankenWright at its full potential: as the venue of wellness retreats ministered by a Yoga Empress, a Vibe Keeper, a Sound Bowl Goddess, a Nourishment Curator, and a Culinary Alchemist (Donna Massaro herself). Upon arrival, you are welcomed as a “fellow human” by the whole entourage, sporting matching plastic daisy chains and faux-dharmic printed pants (an homage, presumably, to the “East-meets-West” sensibility central to Wright’s oeuvre). They will hug you, sage you, and remind you that today is a very special day.
Though some may shed a tear for the late, great Wright over this freewheeling interpretation of his vision, I personally feel for James Maxwell—“Captain of Serenity,” brother of Donna, and unlicensed but compelling local historian—who, while ferrying us to the island, noted quietly, “Thirty-two years in the Marine Corps and they’ve got me wearing balloon pants and a headband.”