A wise man once told me that one day I would be buried deep in the ground, and my gravestone would bear but one word…DONE… (Thank you, Dr. Schwartz.) A truer statement I have never heard. Though Tom and I roll up our shirtsleeves every other weekend and work on renovation projects, and though we have invested so much sweat equity in these homes that they are damp with the moisture of it, though we spend so many of our spare hours working on the houses, discussing the houses, planning and preparing for projects, making phone calls and organizing files. Despite all of this, we will never truly be DONE.
Now, suddenly, we find ourselves at the actual completion of one of our projects, and frankly, the sensation is bewildering. You have to understand… For the last thirteen and a half years we have had a major house project, and for the last six and a half of those we have had two. I can’t imagine my life without a project, obstacles to overcome, schedules to juggle, arrangements to to be made, and the occasional heart-pounding crisis to deal with. It’s a full-time job. Perhaps one day they will have respite care for Old-House Addicts so that we can get a break once in a while.
Yes, Addicts. There, I said it. And it’s what most of my friends have sometimes suspected and what my family has already come to terms with. There are others out there like us. They are the ones who proclaim that they will NEVER restore another old house, while at the same time they are perusing the historicproperties.com listings. They are the ones who claim to be done with the renovations one week, only to gut the third bathroom the following weekend. They are the ones who buy that train wreck of a house for next to nothing, swearing that they will turn it onto a showstopper someday when they get enough cash. Okay, so maybe not those people. That type only aspires to be an Old-House Addict but they are just pretenders. They would prefer to pay others to do the work and dream about renovating without actually lifting a finger or saving the money to get started. We call them House Wreckers, because about the time they realize they will never restore that house and resolve to put it on the market, the roof has fallen through into the basement from neglect. You can recognize them by the way they spend more time talking about what they will be doing with the house than actually doing anything with the house.
One hard truth about restoring an old house is that if you don’t like getting your hands dirty, it’s not for you. Sure, there are those who have the vision and the means and the resources to restore an old house with the swish of a pen. I love to see those projects, as they are typically luxurious, well-done, and most often, completely finished. I mean DONE; as in: every cover on every switch-plate is installed; all of the doorknobs are installed and doors operating properly; and any sign of construction is gone. I marvel at the completeness of such projects, the feeling of being able to relax, the ability to leisurely perform the acts of living without having to first sweep up the sawdust or remove the paintbrushes soaking in the sink. These are the Old-House Royalty. They create castles in which they live and enjoy their first-class amenities in the surroundings of ageless timeless beauty. We Old-House Addicts all secretly wish we could be like them, but at the same time if we were in such a position, we would roll up our shirtsleeves and immediately gut the third bathroom, or start some other such project. We can’t help it — it’s a compulsion, and we can never be like them, whether we like it or not.
The Old House Addict, is never really satisfied if they don’t have their own hands in the project, even if they’ve hired help. While the House Wreckers never hire help, they themselves quit after half an hour of “hard work” and wander around making lists and counting light fixtures. If you know what size and brand of work gloves you like best, you might be an Old-House Addict. If you know what slaked lime is, you just might be an Old-House Addict. If you can instantly visually recognized the difference between heart pine and regular pine flooring, you just might be an Old-House Addict. If you can tell faux-bois wood-graining from actual wood in in old house, you might be an Old-House Addict. And if you are well-versed in the differences between antique plate glass windows and new glass made to look like old glass, well, you probably are an Old-House Addict. Welcome to the club.
We didn’t realize we were Old-House Addicts until about our third or fourth year into the renovations at 878 Main Street. We were wandering the neighborhood and found another house for sale — actually, it was up for auction by the same company we bought our house through. It was cute, and had quite a bit of character, it would make a good project for someone. We toured this house, just a block away and on a side street across from the property where the Sutherlin Mansion sits. The Sutherlin Mansion is also known as the Last Capital of the Confederacy, the building in which Jefferson Davis signed the Confederate Articles of Dissolution after Lee’s surrender at Appomattox. The house for sale was in great condition and would need minimal restoration, and the auction estimate was reasonable. As we had plans to be out of town the day of the auction, we set up a phone bid. Unfortunately, after we set up the phone bid, the auction estimate suddenly ballooned, and the opening bid started at a number which was well above the market value for the house, so we took a pass. It sold for a much lower price in a private sale not long afterward. Some auction houses and real-estate agents can smell an Old-House Addict from a mile away, and many will use this knowledge to try to take advantage of the ones they think might make an emotional purchase. They are the Old House Addict Pushers. Though I would strongly warn any Old-House Addict to avoid these agents at all costs, I know my advice will fall on deaf ears, as the goods they offer can be absolutely irresistible to some.
On another occasion, we looked at a group of homes that were up for sale by one owner. The owner had each house broken up into apartments and was using them as rental income. After viewing the fourth of the five homes it became apparent why the owner was selling them. He had obviously been taking every penny of rental income without putting a single cent back into the maintenance of the properties, so that now each house had multiple significant maintenance issues that could no longer be ignored, and would require costly repairs. Repairs that would likely exceed the value of the homes. The one with all of the plumbing running along the exterior of the rear of the house was my favorite. We politely demurred. We refer to people like this as House Pimps. They buy beautiful sturdy homes and cram as many families into them as they legally (or illegally) can. They then collect rents without maintaining the homes until they fall into disrepair. The homes are eventually condemned and often burn down under suspicious circumstances. If they don’t burn, they are abandoned and eventually torn down at the taxpayer’s expense. Old-House Addicts despise this lot. They can be easily recognized by the expensive cars they drive and by the beautifully maintained new home in which they live.
We toyed with the idea of buying a lovely turreted house with a wrap-around columned porch on a section of Chestnut Street on the opposite side of Main Street. The various roof peaks and turned woodwork along with the graceful verticality of the building made it look like a Medieval/Victorian marriage, but the timing to buy it was never right. Instead, we watched as this house passed through the hands of one owner after another, each one performing various acts of “demolition” in preparation for a restoration that never materialized, until it was eventually stripped of all of its interiors, plaster, woodwork, windows, and dignity. It now sits as an empty shell awaiting its next violation and likely its eventual demise. These various owners represent the worst type of House Wrecker, the Half-Baked House Wrecker. They come in with plans and intentions, and just enough money for phase one, but lose interest or lack follow-through or run out of funds to complete the project. They differ from the run-of-the-mill House Wrecker; their path to demolition is along an accelerated course paved with a woe-is-me attitude, multiple excuses, and a large dose of displaced blame. When the house finally falls, it is never “their fault.” Unfortunately, the Half-Baked House Wrecker usually has multiple “projects” going on at one time.
When you love old houses, you do what you can do to keep them going for the next generation. It is all about the house, the beauty of it, the way it all works together. When you truly love the architecture and the structure you are working on, you would do anything in your power to see it survive into the future, so that it will live long after you are gone. It’s not about you, it’s about the house. For the House Wrecker and the Half-Baked House Wrecker, it is all about them. The end results speak for themselves.
While our love of old homes prompted many trips sightseeing in old historic towns to view the architecture firsthand, actually tackling such a project would have been impossible for us early on in our lives together, though even back then we talked about the possibility someday. In the meantime, we contented ourselves with collecting antiques for that home we would eventually own. As our tastes trended toward the Victorian era architecture, it was tautological that we would both be drawn to Victorian era furniture. This worked out perfectly, as the home we ultimately purchased and are restoring is the ideal setting for the pieces we have collected over the years. Though much of it is currently under wraps during the renovations, we have a few pieces placed in their intended setting as we complete rooms in the house. The dining room is a great example of this.
As the house was built in the 1870s then later significantly expanded during the 1880s, we are trying to stay as close to this period as possible, and slightly earlier, and keeping with the American flavor. As these homes were generational houses, families would have inherited furniture from earlier generations as well as added to the furnishings, buying what was fashionable at the time. We hope to create that generational feel within the dwelling by layering period furniture in the way a family of the era would have done. I like to think of myself, and others who decorate in such a manner as Period Sentimentalists.
Not all period homes are presented in this manner, and it is always interesting to me to see how people choose to surround themselves with the things they love, how they place them, how they use their possessions. In this, I am a curious observer, as I don’t believe that a period house requires period accoutrements in order to be a home. Doing so may be my choice, but how each of us uses our homes is a very deeply personal choice that cannot be judged by those who do not live within those walls. That being said, I always find it curious when I find a purely Victorian home completely furnished and decorated in the Federal style, with green and tan painted walls, white ceilings, white wainscoting and simple brass chandeliers. The furnishings so simple in comparison to the exuberant woodwork, fruited ceiling medallions, overzealous windows and intricate flooring inlays. I wonder about the juxtaposition of such wildly opposite styles. Could this be the compromise between spouses with two different tastes and styles? A matter of preference vs. inheritance? Or simply a love of both genres with a planned integration. Either way, I love to think of these people as Period Blending Sentimentalists. Whatever their decorating or architectural choices, their love for craftsmanship, design, and quality materials always seems to shine through.
That style of decorating differs completely from that of the Period Rejecting Sentimentalists who purchase old homes with beautiful period details, mantelpieces, woodwork ceiling medallions and lighting. They restore the outside meticulously and beautifully, then gut the entire interior removing all traces of the era in which it was built. They replace plaster with drywall for its smooth surfaces. They replace exuberant mantelpieces with modern “focal elements”. They replace lofty chandeliers with brighter recessed can lights, and wood moldings with simpler, easier to clean, less fussy versions. They also, strangely enough, will then install crown molding. Some lumber advertiser somewhere in the past has convinced every American that no historic home is complete unless it has crown molding. Especially if it never had crown molding to begin with, and even if the crown molding you install is completely disproportioned to the scale of the room. A successful advertising scheme if I have ever seen one, much like the car companies who have linked every American’s ego to the car they drive. I’m driving a rusted-out ’87 Camry, in case you were wondering.
The homes of these Period Rejecting Sentimentalists will have the most expensive wired sound systems, modern amenities, electronics and accessories. They have a “Tardis” feel to them — what is on the inside is a complete contrast, and wholly unexpected given the exterior facade. Now, I’m not talking about the ancient warehouses re-purposed for living spaces, a laudable act that allows the buildings to have a future, I’m talking about the wholesale gutting of a historical gem. While the Period Sentimentalists and even the Period Blending Sentimentalists arrange the objects within interiors to suit their fancy, the Period Rejecting Sentimentalists completely alter the character of the interiors of the structure itself, stripping away everything that made it what it was and replacing it with something else completely. Typically these changes are permanent. I have yet to come up with an explanation for the driving force behind the Period Rejecting Sentimentalist. If someone could enlighten me, I would appreciate it. After all, why purchase an old house if your burning desire is to have a modern interior? I wonder sometimes if these are the same people who proclaim to treasure their spouses, friends and family for who they are, then try their hardest to change them, to mold them into something “better.”
The one type of person who inhabits old homes who I love the best is the Old House Steward. They are a level-headed type, not prone to becoming Old-House Addicts or any such foolish thing as that. They inherit or purchase a period house with the intent to make it their home. They do the best they can with what they have and make that home their own. They do right by the structure, performing necessary repairs, making sensitive additions or subtractions, renovating bit by bit when necessary. They don’t tend to spread themselves too thin by starting too many projects at one time, and they slowly but steadily improve the building they started with while preserving it for future generations. They understand that having an old house burdens them with a never-ending to-do list of items both large and small, and they accept that burden with dignity and grace. They tackle that list with the understanding that it is the toll exacted for the privilege of living inside history itself; for being allowed to be the successor to the generations who came before and left their mark; for keeping alive the spirit of America itself. For what is America without the structures that mark her years, the buildings that tell her tales, and the homes that shielded and nurtured her children: our forefathers. They love the houses they inhabit, and treat them accordingly. They are true Stewards to their homes. It is to them that most of America’s old homes owe their very existence. Indeed, they are the heroes, and most often the voice, of the preservation movement. Three cheers to the Old House Stewards of America!
Carla Minosh
While I am new to Blogging, I have always enjoyed sharing the stories of my crazy life, so this is simply another medium to share, and hopefully entertain and enrich others. Perhaps you can feel thankful that your life is so steady and predictable after reading these, perhaps you can appreciate the insanity and wish you had more of it in your life. Either way, the crazy tales are all true (to the best of my spotty recollection) and simply tell the tale of a life full of exploration, enthusiasm, curiosity and hard work. I hope you all enjoy being a part of the journey.
Wonderful descriptions. Very insightful. I love what you are doing and can't get enough visits to see "what's new".
Hello, I have enjoyed your blog for some time and following your adventure. I am a investor of homes and buildings in the Danville area and I share your resentment towards the House Pimps as you eloquently refer to them. I take great pride in buying the small historic and mid-century homes and update them to standards above the market. This plan allows me to attract solid tenants and maintain my investment long term. Sadly, the problem we see today with the slum lords is perpetuated by the city's lack of 'teeth' in enforcement. If you haven't done so already, take a look at the list of delinquent tax payers posted on the city's website. You will be disgusted by the amount of money owed by the house pimps. I am constantly amazed how they are allowed to owe back taxes month after month, year after year.
I wish you well and look forward to your next posting….
I love being an Old House Steward. As a single parent I sometimes struggle to be a good steward, but I do the best I can. Even though it seems each year my grand plans for my tax refund evaporate into some house repair, I wouldn't change anything. Perhaps someday I'll meet a nice man with a really big tool belt. Oh, a girl can dream, can't she.
Thanks, Carla. Great piece, especially your description of old house stewards.
Hope Gerda enjoyed her birthday as much as we did.
S & F
Wow. This post could and SHOULD be a book.
There would be a chapter on each type, from the Old House Wrecker to the Old House Steward.
It would be an amazing book.
You are brilliant.