Amid LA Wildfire Destruction, Volunteers Rescue 19th-Century Tile to Use Again in Rebuilding

Entire neighborhoods were wiped off the map following the January wildfires that devastated southern California. Fueled by severe drought conditions and strong Santa Ana winds, the two largest fires—the Eaton Fire in Altadena and the Palisades Fire in Pacific Palisades—caused the most damage.

Roughly 11,000 homes were destroyed, many of them in Altadena, where not much was left behind. Felita Kealing is one of the residents who lost their entire home in the wildfires. Fortunately, she and her family evacuated in time, taking important documents, photos, medications, and clothes.

Built in 1925, Kealing's 2,000-square-foot, four-bedroom home featured much of the original white oak hardwood floors inlaid with burgundy pieces, high ceilings with crown molding, lots of windows, and a fireplace in the living room with Batchelder tile. The fireplace is all that remains of the home.

This is the case for many homes in Altadena. While not much of the mountain town is left, hundreds of original historic tile fireplace surrounds have survived the wreckage. The remaining chimneys covered in iridescent Batchelder tiles inspired the non-profit organization, Save the Tiles, which is committed to saving, repairing, and storing the historic tile found in the homes.

A key marker of the American Arts and Crafts movement of the 19th century, Batchelder tiles were handcrafted by artist Ernest Batchelder in Pasadena, California. Found primarily in private homes around southern California, the tiles are usually palm-sized or larger with muted matte finishes and understated glazes and feature motifs inspired by nature, as well as ancient and medieval themes.

Eric Garland, co-founder of Save the Tiles and longtime resident of Altadena, noticed one day on a walk with his daughter that his neighbor's 100-year-old fireplace and its tiles were intact, even though the rest of the home burned. Garland shared a photo of the fireplace with his neighbors, asking if anyone was working to save the historic remnants. He was then connected to local mason Cliff Douglas, who had already begun removing tiles from ruined homes for free.

From there, a call-to-action went out, seeking volunteers to canvass the area for fireplaces covered in the historic tile. Fifty people showed up on the first day. Since then, the organization has grown exponentially, mobilizing into a grassroots-type effort that now includes a leadership team with heads of operations, finance, marketing, and outreach, along with 700-plus volunteers.

It also includes professional tile masons who do "the impossible," Garland says. "They do the very difficult work of sensitively removing all of these damaged tiles," tiles that were never meant to withstand that kind of sustained heat, he adds.

"We have this strong instinct to preserve what's left, but also because we need an excuse to be back there," he says about the group. "Somehow, it feels right. It feels like going home, even when you're in the burn zone in a hazmat suit wearing a respirator."

Understanding the historical importance of the tiles in Kealing’s home, an artist friend advised her to contact Save the Tiles. Kealing says the group has been invaluable for people like her, who didn't know the tiles could be saved. "I'm not an architect. I'm not a contractor. I didn't have that level of understanding of what to do or how to do it," she says.

So far, the group has rescued 6 tons of tile (or 12,000 pounds) from about 200 homes. Preservationists offered the volunteers guidance on how to pack and store the tiles, and photos document any damaged, scorched, or missing tiles, which will help future installers piece them back together, like a jigsaw puzzle.

Surprisingly, tracking down homeowners to get their permission to remove the tiles has been the biggest hurdle for the organization. "To the extent that we are not able to save everything in Altadena, it won't be because we didn't have the right teams or the right resources or the right equipment. It will be because we couldn't find somebody to say yes, and that is tough to sleep with," Garland says.

Now that the tiles in the Kealing home have been salvaged, their architect hopes to use them as inspiration for their new home. "They could be a part of a fireplace or they could be used throughout the home," Kealing says. "I just want them utilized and to make them a part of our new home."

The Save the Tiles crews, who were working around the clock, are now reaching the end of their mission. "We are getting to the point where, shortly, we will have removed and rescued every last bit of tile that we are going to get," Garland says. Until the tile can be installed in future homes, which could take years, group members are hoping to showcase them in a coffee book and museum exhibitions.

Although it might seem small, Garland says that the tile represents so much more to the homeowners. "It's suddenly so monumentally important to them because it's what they have left. It's continuity to their old life and the life that they want back, that they want to recreate and rebuild."

As a homeowner, Kealing shares that sentiment, saying, "Lots of the things that we had in our homes and around the houses, like the stucco and the plaster and the drywall—all those things burned. But then you have something that could help ground you or connect you to the past."