We are now fourteen years into our “5-year project” on our house at 878 Main street, and oh, how our baby has grown! As I experience the teenage years and growing pains of the renovations, I look back on our journey with so much nostalgia. The birth of this project itself was accompanied with much difficulty. We discovered that our winning bid at the real estate auction was threatened by a competing bid which was submitted after the hammer fell, leaving us without even an opportunity to counter-bid. The first of our “old house family” made an introduction, and Bob Morrison donned his attorney hat and went to bat for us, securing our future with the house and effectively delivering it into our hands.
Those innocent days of naivety when we stepped through the front doors to take ownership of such a beauty, full of the plans and ideas and dreams we had for the place; our excitement and enthusiasm was at its peak with the newness of the project. We had no idea how much we lacked experience for the job, or how much work would be required to accomplish those goals. We truly were the first-time parents of a newborn house project, with no idea what the reality of the days ahead would bring; the late nights, the worries, the pitfalls and the complications. We also had no perception as to how this house would bring so many more people into our lives, people whose lives have intertwined with our own and become part of our “old house” family forever.
Our first year together was fraught with many growing pains, as we cleared out debris, tore out added closets and awkward built-in bookcases and cabinets. We brought the home back to the original floor plan by demolishing the walls and partitions which had been added over the years. We spent hours lovingly examining every detail of this beautiful old home, getting to know the idiosyncrasies of the systems as well as dealing with unexpected problems such as leaking pipes, rotted floors, clogged sinks, overflowing gutters, and a nasty termite infestation. We quickly discovered that water is the enemy of an old house, and will quickly cause rot to set in wherever it makes its way, decaying elements that are difficult, if not impossible, to replace. It allows insects to breed and spread. It promotes the growth of molds and mildew that will leave behind microscopic spores. Mix water and plaster and you are left with a soggy heavy sloppy mess. Protecting our new investment against the damage of water became a priority. Monitoring regularly for possible water infiltration has become an ongoing point of vigilance.
Our initial incompetence as new “old house” owners was fortunately tempered by our slow progress, as we began to figure out what we were doing. We didn’t bring in large crews to make sweeping changes, we didn’t tackle any huge projects immediately, and we didn’t spend a lot of money on “experts” to advise us. We sat back, and picked away at small projects as we built our confidence and skill sets. Sure we made mistakes along the way…there were many projects we did during those early years that were later done over properly as we learned from those mistakes.
We learned about knob-and-tube wiring, horsehair plaster and lath, steam boilers, lead and galvanized plumbing, and the effects of galvanic corrosion. We learned about the fragile and crystalline nature of old cast iron, about a multitude of paint stripping techniques, and how to identify asbestos. We began to grow our knowledge of local resources for wood trim, specialty historic paint colors, antique cast iron, window weights, old wavy window glass, and salvaged roof slates. We became familiar faces at every salvage operation between Philadelphia and the North Carolina border, and especially familiar with the best one of all: Olde Good Things in Scranton Pennsylvania. We found the best architectural antiques shops and auction houses, and could soon find our way around a home improvement store with our eyes closed. We learned how to pull wire, sweat a pipe, and lead a stained glass window, among a myriad of other skills completely unrelated to our respective careers as a corporate attorney and a pediatric nurse practitioner.
We also discovered our own hidden talents, as Tom began his budding career as “The Straight Guy With The Queer Eye” (though he prefers the title of “Artistic Director”) as he began thinking about designs and colors for the surfaces, once the work behind the scenes was done. He knocked it out of the ballpark with the first bathroom we remodeled, the Master Bathroom. I guess my hidden talent was for suggesting preposterous ideas for a room, that he would grab a hold of and run with, as he took did with my desire for a kitchen tribute to my favorite architect, Frank Furness, and cabinet maker, Daniel Pabst.
As we got to know the our home better, we found that our list of needs and requirements was rapidly expanding as we discovered that the house could become even more spectacular than we had originally ever believed. A decision to remove the white paint from the exterior inspired us to re-build the long-removed front porch and re-create the roof cresting from a single fragment found in the attic. The paint removal not only helped us determine the profile of the former roof (along with the help of an old photograph) but also revealed a second, smaller front porch, which we then became determined to re-create. A second photograph showed up, taken from a different angle, which revealed the details of that second front porch, allowing us to re-create it accurately.
Our familiarity with the local salvage operations helped with our search to find the antique cast iron columns and ironwork which exactly matched the photographs as we re-created the porches. Our resources allowed us to find a casting company able to re-cast the roof cresting fragment so that we could re-create the entire roof cresting, adding an element of beauty, previously lost to time, which helped to define the structure and show off the grace and elegance that the house was intended to possess.
As our house began to grow into its former glory and grace, our intimacy with all of its working parts, its structure, its ornament and its hidden nooks and crannies also grew, allowing us a knowledge about this house that we never dreamed. After examining every detail so closely after so many years, it was easier to understand what the architect and owner had originally intended this structure to be. We discovered its alterations, some good and some bad, a few neutral, that subsequent generations had created. We decided how we would leave our mark on this home, as well.
It took years to define it, but our goal became clear: to modernize the systems so that our home would ultimately be serviceable for generations to come, to protect it from the elements so that it would stand the test of time, and to preserve the original features both inside and out, so that the original intent and use of the home would be the same as the day it was built. There would be no television in the rear parlor; no media room in the music room. The modern amenities and electronics would be limited to the additions and secondary spaces. The original rooms would be restored to their original look and uses, and the timelessness of the place would be reflected in her exterior.
Our project list was growing and growing, and the possibilities of what the house could ultimately become began to crystallize. Time was revealing the character of this beauty and the innate personality of the original elements was beginning to show through. As our house began to shine and as long-lost decorative elements began to make their re-appearance, some missing after more than half-a-century, we began to notice something else…people began to come to us for advice and recommendations. And the most astounding thing occurred; we actually had a lot to say on the matter of laying tile, of iron foundries, of salvaged bricks, the proper mixture for slaked lime, and so many more subjects. Without even realizing it, we had become experienced “old-house” people.
Interestingly enough, even with our experience, we are still not immune from making mistakes. I guess that is how it goes with old houses. They continue to teach us every day, and we get better and better at handling the construction, renovations, demolitions, and the run-of-the-mill disasters that are a natural part of restoring an old home. Besides, every project, every problem, every supposed disaster is simply a learning experience in the making. Never let the fear of not knowing enough, or lack of experience hold you back from your dream of taking on an old home. There will always be experienced people out there to help guide you, and they will be more than happy to help.
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.
I wish there were more stewards like you two. Too many people buy an old house and immediately go to gutting it, making it into something it should never be. Thank you for being preservers and restorers of history.
Too often, people think before buying an old house needing work: Will I make a financial return?
As if this is the only return which mattered, and was possible.
You have outlined above that there are MANY returns possible by taking on a great old house.
Bless you and Tom. I admire you both tremendously.
Yeah, it can be nerve-wracking how something as harmless as water can do a number on an old house, by facilitating the growth of molds and spores, as well as the accumulation of bugs and insects. I hope that you got to the bottom of the problem fast, and was able to prevent it from getting worse. Take care!
Debra Owen @ Invader