Magnolia architect built tall career

Mark Twain said "clothes make the man." But James Klontz, 87, a diminutive man born in Kent and a long-time regional architect who recently retired, is proof that neither clothes nor size make the man.

Klontz is not the archetypal superman, invincible hero-architect portrayed in Ayn Rand's novel, "The Fountainhead." Rather, he is a no-nonsense professional who eschews the frills, bells and whistles of some architectural designs for solid structures that go hand in hand with engineering considerations; then a finished design that must always fit in with its surroundings.

Tenaciousness and persistent are two terms used to describe Klontz. "That's how he won me," says his wife, Angie Klontz. "I wasn't interested in getting married, but here I am 60 years and five daughters later. I'm proud of James."

Klontz graduated from the University of Washington in 1943 with a degree in architecture a year earlier than his classmates, and as with other young men of his generation joined the military. As an infantryman and sharpshooter, he survived the front lines at the beaches of Normandy, and in 1946, with all body parts intact, returned home.

There was a job waiting for him after the war. He started working at Moore and Massar, an architectural firm in Seattle then located in the Dexter-Horton building. Klontz knew Bliss Moore Jr. when they were both students at the university, and Bliss' father had promised Klontz a job in the firm when he returned home. By 1951, Klontz established his own firm.

"When I've been hired to do a design, I listen carefully to determine what my client wants, what the budget is, what the desired time for completion is, what the requirements are in adhering to code and permit guidelines, what the engineers need to know, and then I get the work done."

Klontz always knew what he wanted to do. At the age of 5 1/2, under the tutelage of his father who was a carpenter, he began sketching and drawing and never stopped. "I like the challenges of designing structures that are not only beautiful, but maintenance free," he said. "When I design a church, I want people to feel at home with a sense of intimacy when they are relating to God. Achieving the feeling of spaciousness and intimacy at the same time is not easy."

Our Lady of Fatima in Magnolia and St. Patrick's off Broadway are two of more than 20 churches he designed over the years.

He also designed most of the buildings for the Snohomish School District, the early buildings in Bellevue Square, the family house in Magnolia and buildings that range from the northern tip of Alaska to the southern tip of South America, throughout Russia and all the way to the Spanish island of Majorca.

Klontz retirement celebration at Our Lady of Fatima last Sunday was arranged by his five daughters to celebrate his life and work. The friends and colleagues who spoke of him talked of his ability to visualize a design, draw blueprints with clarity and detail, and end up with designs that were clean and free of any extraneous accoutrements.

When I asked where the spirit and soul of his work came from, he said, "I like all of the challenges and a finished product that looks as if it belongs in just that space."

Klontz has always been an avid fisherman and hunter. Just a few years ago, Klontz landed a 45-pound king salmon, that was nearly as tall as him.

"I caught that 45-pound fish with a 20-pound line on the first cast," he said. "I knew that if I just waited, let him run with the line for a while then reel him in a bit, eventually the fish would tire out and I'd net him."

Tenacity, practicality, intelligence, diligence, clarity of vision, patience and faith are the spirit and soul of Klontz, attributes that helped him become an A student, fisherman, hunter, lt. colonel, husband, father, mentor, friend, devout Catholic and a much-in-demand architect for the past 60 years, which just goes to show that it's more than size alone that makes the man.[[In-content Ad]]