As luxury developers continue to replace older estates with new construction in Palm Beach’s competitive real estate market, a growing number of homeowners are choosing historic preservation over demolition. Among them are Diana and E. Llwyd Ecclestone, who earned the prestigious Robert I. Ballinger Award for their meticulous three-year restoration of a 1929 Italianate oceanfront home at 190 S. Ocean Blvd. In a market increasingly dominated by turnkey luxury mansions, preserving architecturally significant Palm Beach homes has become both rare and meaningful.

Recognized by the Preservation Foundation of Palm Beach, the project highlights the enduring value of historic estates designed by renowned architects like John Volk. “There needs to be a reverence for our great architects of the past and their work,” says Danielle Del Sol, President and CEO of the organization. As demand for Palm Beach luxury real estate continues to grow, maintaining the island’s architectural heritage remains essential to preserving its character, charm, and long-standing appeal.

And now, Luxury Home Magazine takes its readers on an exclusive look at the roughly 21,000-square-foot house. We also spoke with Scott Snyder, who masterfully oversaw the estate’s epic makeover.

“You find fewer people today who have the time, love and interest to renovate these properties,” says Snyder, one of Palm Beach’s most sought-after designers. “But the house has made it through nearly 100 years, and now it will live for another 100 years.”

The Ecclestone’s home was originally designed by John L. Volk, the Austrian-born architect whose hundreds of area projects include the Royal Poinciana Plaza and its Playhouse, a long-dormant landmark now redeveloped as Glazer Hall. It was built for Vincent Bendix, the automotive and aviation pioneer whose inventions include the electric car starter. A 1932 story in The New York Times reports Bendix selling the home for $275,000 — a lot of money in a post-Black Friday economy — to Mrs. Edward F. Albee, the widow of a vaudeville theater tycoon and maternal grandmother of future playwright Edward Albee.

By the time the Ecclestones bought the six-bedroom house in 1996, Snyder says, it had fallen into rough shape: Battered by oceanside elements, and as dark and somber inside as a Mediterranean monastery.

“I’m very straightforward with clients, and Diana is a more-contemporary person, so I said to her, ‘It looks like your great-grandmother would live here,” Snyder says.

The couple named the house Villa Artemis, a nod to the Greek analog of Diana, the Roman goddess of the hunt. And so began an epic odyssey to preserve the home’s historic past, while bringing into a lighter, more-livable 21st century.

Enlisting architect Jeffery Smith of Smith Architectural Group, the couple settled on six small additions, including an enlarged second-floor master suite. A handsome loggia that backs a courtyard and vintage fountain was redesigned for today’s year-round Florida living. With the push of a button, glass sheets ascend from below ground to fill a trio of loggia arches, for a choice between open air or air-conditioned comfort.

“We had to dig out below the courtyard, which was quite an engineering feat on Jeff Smith’s part,” Ecclestone says.

A formerly awkward open walkway between upper-floor wings was enclosed, carving out space for an exercise room and sitting room. A refreshing new swimming pool and guest house are accessed via an underground passage below the street, amid gardens by landscape architect Morgan Wheelock. Ecclestone says it was the first such private seaside tunnel in Palm Beach; this in a time when “wicker wheelchairs” — propelled from behind, typically by hotel employees — were a popular means for winter tourists to traverse the shoreline.

Mica-flecked French plaster or pearlized capiz shells gleam on walls, reflecting newly abundant natural light. Plumbing, electrical systems and lighting needed replacing. Original fireplaces were renovated.

Snyder, who began a half-century design career as a Pennsylvania entrepreneur, venturing to New York on buying trips, now traveled to Europe to curate antiquities, upholstery and furnishings. For one room, Snyder commissioned an antique-reproduction desk and armoire, inlaid with mother of pearl, from a talented furniture maker in Syria. A Sotheby’s auction in Monaco yielded a striking pair of red Chinese pagoda beds, once owned by the late banker Edmund Safra and his socialite wife, Lily Safra.

“Some things need to be quiet, but some things need to have a little spice,” he says.

A historic renovation at this scale would test the patience, and budget, of the most committed homeowners, and that of their architects, decorators and unsung-hero contractors. But after three years of exile — we’re not talking a remodeled kitchen here — the Ecclestones finally saw their property returned to its former glory. Only better.

Snyder had set up a welcome luncheon in the loggia. The designer was naturally anxious, but the multi-hour tour that followed assured him the team had triumphed.

“Scott brought us into the house, and I literally burst into tears,” Ecclestone says. “Every room, every corner we turned was so amazing, so beautiful. And Scott just hit every note perfectly.”