I'd become a fan because I thought the first house we'd lived in on Holtby Road in the Oleander area had been built by Cullimore. I found out later that it hadn't, but its straight walls and superb craftsmanship had so convinced me that it was that I had elevated Cullimore to almost god-like architectural status. Cully is a retired architect himself, a member of the historical society and the guardian of his father's architectural flame. He lives in a house his father built in 1934 and down the street from some of his father's finest work. Beautiful houses are one thing, but adobes are something else.
Adobes are to houses what redwoods are to trees.
Grand, mysterious and, if built right, capable of withstanding catastrophic natural disasters. If any house has a soul, adobes do. They have thick walls, inset windows, and are as quiet as a library and as inviting as your grandmother's kitchen. Adobes make sense in Bakersfield. With their 24-inch walls, one of Cullimores adobes could handle outside temperatures of 110 to 115 degrees and never get over 87 inside.