Show us your vintage home!

[Touchofevil]

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Keep rubbing it in. Cozy, charming, beautiful and with a wonderful porch built for all-year-round-sitting. I could easily imagine me sitting on that porch reading a book, listening to music, while drinking a few Angry Orchards.

 

[Studebaker Driver]

ToE -
What a swell idea!

 

[Touchofevil]

ToE -
What a swell idea!
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That gets a big ol' "YES!" from me. A nice view and great way to relax at the end of the day.

 

[Studebaker Driver]

When we're done on the porch, we can go through the doors into the dining room and we'll have some snacks and listen to some music.

 

[Touchofevil]

When we're done on the porch, we can go through the doors into the dining room and we'll have some snacks and listen to some music.
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And before you know it the Gang from the Fedora Lounge will be knocking on your front door.

 

[Studebaker Driver]

No need to knock, just come around the porch to the French doors on the dining room - they're open. Come in. Let's talk hats and cars.

 

[Studebaker Driver]

I wrote that the house was the model home for the first subdivision in town and the nut-shell version of the rest of the story is this: After all the lots in the subdivision had been sold, there was nothing left to do but move and do it again elsewhere. So, in 1923, the builder packed up his family and moved them to a tract he bought in the Piedmont district of the Oakland (CA) hills, where he built a new model house and offered custom houses there. He retired from the business after this development. Side note, those Piedmont houses all still exist and they are magnificent.

His youngest daughter, who was born in my house in 1915, received the house as her wedding gift in 1935 and she and her husband, the scion of a local merchant, lived in the house until 1952 when, several blocks away, they built a new "Palm Springs" style house and they moved into that. She lived to a grand old age and lived in the "new" house for the rest of her life.

From my childhood viewpoint, there was no more beautiful house in the entire town. I knew nothing of its history, but as a kid I would ride my bike downtown and stand on the sidewalk and stare at it. It became a habit, any time I crossed town I would drive past "my" house and give it a good stare. Oddly, I never saw any sign of habitation, but I knew someone lived there. One day while making one of my side trips for a look, I saw an old woman making laborious progress up the front steps. As luck would have it, I was driving a Stanley steam car at the time and I thought (or hoped) it might break the ice and maybe convince the lady I really did like old stuff and I wasn't just casing her house.

I pulled up to the curb and jumped out of the still hissing car and ran up the steps just as she was unlocking and opening the door. I introduced myself and she regarded me silently. I told her of my long love affair with the house and asked if maybe someday I might see the inside of it. She drilled me with crinkly eyes and a stony expression and said with a thick German accent, "Vell, I kess dat vood pe ok." The door slammed with a boom; I never saw her again. But a year or so later, on New Years Day, there was a For Sale sign in the yard. The next morning, after the holiday, I called the realtor and was in the house during my lunch hour that day. After several offers and counters and counter-counters, I began moving in on Jan. 6.

I soon met the builder's daughter, the one who had been born in the house in 1915. She was in her mid-80s at the time and she was sharp as a tack and she remembered everything. Not only was she able to describe every aspect of the house as it was when she was a child, she had all of her father's records of its construction, along with the records of all of the neighboring houses (her father had built them, too.
m, too).

Yikes, reading this, it isn't much of a nut shell, it seems rambling - sorry.
The pics:

 

[BobHufford]

What an amazing link to the history of the house. Thanks for sharing the story.

 

[Stearmen]

Wow, am I ever jealous! I would settle for a tenth of those records pertaining to the building of my house.

 

[AmateisGal]

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Holy cow. This is incredible! Gorgeous room!!!

 

[Stearmen]

I thought some of you would like this house, I toured the open house a month ago. It's a Queen Anne with a tower and a carriage house, plus a 30'X70' barn, on five acres. It was built in 1994! Yes you read that date right, it was built by an antique dealer, and she sure got the details right. It out Queen Anne's my original Queen Anne! Price reduced to a mere $600,000. Oh well, out of my price range.

 

[sheeplady]

This is not meant to criticize that house (its lovely) but it lacks the tall 2 over 2 (or 2 over 1) windows I'd expect to see in a Queen Anne.

 

[Stearmen]

This is not meant to criticize that house (its lovely) but it lacks the tall 2 over 2 (or 2 over 1) windows I'd expect to see in a Queen Anne.

I am not sure what you mean, it has a lot of 6 over 1s which is what mine had before some one put modern windows in it! Like I said, this looks more like a real Queen Anne then mine does.

 

[sheeplady]

Because you asked:
The proportions of the windows seem incorrect (short)- or to put it more bluntly, it's a bit Uncanny Valley of Houses for me. In your house, your windows are twice as tall as wide; in the modern house the windows are 1.5 times as tall as wide. It could be the photography (aspect ratio off), but the windows in the new house give the appearance of remuddling. Here it's a common remuddling technique to replace original sized windows with cheaper smaller ones- ones that often don't follow proportions.

The proportions on that new house just seem uncanny to me, and I think it's mostly the windows. (The painted fake paneling and more modern stair newel isn't helping, though, either; now that I look at it. Also the ceilings are too low in the upstairs. And those white composite looking doors with lever handles in a room with a natural finish oak fireplace. And that spiral stairway, well... you get my drift.)

That new house is trying to be real, but like the uncanny valley effect, there's just enough slightly off that it's unnerving to me. The person who built the modern house understands the pieces, but I'm not sure she understood the picture she was building- the very essence of a Queen Anne. It's kind of like she took everything Victorian she liked and threw it together, without thought for the whole.

Now your house looks comfortable in it's own skin. It is the far more admirable of the two, I think.

I'll also add that it's a shame that she built new when she likely could have restored an older home or two with those funds; but restoring homes is not for everyone. But I'm one of those people who'll take Nash's attic droppings to new construction any day of the week.

 

[Stearmen]

Because you asked:


Now your house looks comfortable in it's own skin. It is the far more admirable of the two, I think.

Thanks! The poor old lady tries her best.

 

[sheeplady]

Thanks! The poor old lady tries her best.

She's doing a fine job of it! Do you know what year she was built?

Our Victorian (the never ending restoration saga) is an Italianate from about 1852-1853.

 

[Fading Fast]

Because you asked:
The proportions of the windows seem incorrect (short)- or to put it more bluntly, it's a bit Uncanny Valley of Houses for me. In your house, your windows are twice as tall as wide; in the modern house the windows are 1.5 times as tall as wide. It could be the photography (aspect ratio off), but the windows in the new house give the appearance of remuddling. Here it's a common remuddling technique to replace original sized windows with cheaper smaller ones- ones that often don't follow proportions.

The proportions on that new house just seem uncanny to me, and I think it's mostly the windows. (The painted fake paneling and more modern stair newel isn't helping, though, either; now that I look at it. Also the ceilings are too low in the upstairs. And those white composite looking doors with lever handles in a room with a natural finish oak fireplace. And that spiral stairway, well... you get my drift.)

That new house is trying to be real, but like the uncanny valley effect, there's just enough slightly off that it's unnerving to me. The person who built the modern house understands the pieces, but I'm not sure she understood the picture she was building- the very essence of a Queen Anne. It's kind of like she took everything Victorian she liked and threw it together, without thought for the whole.

Now your house looks comfortable in it's own skin. It is the far more admirable of the two, I think.

I'll also add that it's a shame that she built new when she likely could have restored an older home or two with those funds; but restoring homes is not for everyone. But I'm one of those people who'll take Nash's attic droppings to new construction any day of the week.

You are a lot smarter and knowledgeable about all this than I am, but as much as I wanted to like the house, I though it looked "off," "fake," "forced," in a fundamental way. It didn't "feel" right to me, but I do not have the detailed knowledge to explain it as you do.

I've seen many attempts in NYC to build new architecture to look "old." If the attempt is to simply "echo" an older style or harmonize an aesthetic, I have seen many successful efforts. However, when the attempt is to truly recreate the old look and feel, they all fall very short as the architect, for whatever reason, always fails to capture the "essence" of the older buildings.

From proportions and scale (as you highlight in the house in question) to the actual feel of the older materials (plaster walls "feel" incredibly different than today's drywall - walls, for example, even if they both look like walls), the new looks and feels, new, and like nothing more than a poor attempt to copy an old style.

We had friends who built a "farmhouse" to replicate and old-style farmhouse. Even though they used old architect plans, from the scale, the layout to the materials - it all felt modern with a nod to the old.

We recently renovated a 1928 apartment and had to fight tooth and nail (literally, it was a constant battle) to get the contractor to do things to truly replicate what was there. From having the cabinets build in the old style (floating inset panels, "box" draws) to brush painting finishes, even contractors who have done restoration work still want to do it in modern ways. We battled all the time - and overall we were successful - but architects and contractors want to do what is easy - use modern materials and techniques - when what works to truly capture the look and feel of old is using the old materials and old construction techniques.

That's why, IMHO, new things built to look and feel old rarely do, because the architects and contractors don't want to do what it really takes to successfully make a new building look and feel old.

 

[sheeplady]

I think there is a valid question as to if we should try to "recreate" older forms in new(er) houses. While I think it is better that someone who wants to "remuddle" an old house should build new (or buy something too far gone already); I think any newer building should have some clear markings that it is, in fact, new- even as simple as a cornerstone.

I'm a renovating preservationist, so I think homes are living structures; they have to change and adapt to modern life styles, including being brought up to code (in a sensible way) for safety. In my opinion, anyone who does significant work to a house should ensure that it is not ripped to shreds by the next owner because it's only liveable for the 5% of the population who's willing to completely adapt their lifestyle to an old house. For instance, if you rip out the plaster or clapboards on a wall, you ought to insulate; if just for the fact that the next person who insulates likely won't be putting the original clapboards back. And if you get into knob-and-tube wiring, replace it while you're at it. You ought to remove every square inch of lead paint you can. This, to be clear, is my opinion.

This is significant more work on the part of the restorer. However, while people like me might be willing to get on our hands and knees and scrape up gobs of lead paint; most people are not. They are going to rip anything that's painted with lead out and put it in the trash heap. If I just "paint over" lead paint because "it's easier" I am potentially setting up my home to be gutted someday.

Now I have the time (although very little) and the motivation (very much) to do this. Not everyone does. But no home I have ever owned will have a single piece of woodwork torn out of it because it has lead paint on it. I can't guarantee some idiot won't tear it all down for something they consider "better" but I've done my part to ensure that what is original in the house is livable for the next person and more likely to be saved.

 

[Stearmen]

She's doing a fine job of it! Do you know what year she was built?

Our Victorian (the never ending restoration saga) is an Italianate from about 1852-1853.

That is The $64,000 Question? The city says 1899, the first mention of it in the city directory is, 1902. The previous owner insisted it was built in 1888. But on her loan application, the lenders had 1890, which is the date that the owner before her had on his sales flyer which I have. I found in the city directory a lady that lived at four different addresses, that no longer exist, and only existed for two years each in the area of my house! Unfortunately, she moved to a different house in 1901, so no bridge to 1902. Incidentally, in the 1894 city directory, her house is listed as The Last House, on my street! Now I know why so few in my city have the Historical Plaque.

 

[Stearmen]

I think there is a valid question as to if we should try to "recreate" older forms in new(er) houses. While I think it is better that someone who wants to "remuddle" an old house should build new (or buy something too far gone already); I think any newer building should have some clear markings that it is, in fact, new- even as simple as a cornerstone.

I'm a renovating preservationist, so I think homes are living structures; they have to change and adapt to modern life styles, including being brought up to code (in a sensible way) for safety. In my opinion, anyone who does significant work to a house should ensure that it is not ripped to shreds by the next owner because it's only liveable for the 5% of the population who's willing to completely adapt their lifestyle to an old house. For instance, if you rip out the plaster or clapboards on a wall, you ought to insulate; if just for the fact that the next person who insulates likely won't be putting the original clapboards back. And if you get into knob-and-tube wiring, replace it while you're at it. You ought to remove every square inch of lead paint you can. This, to be clear, is my opinion.

This is significant more work on the part of the restorer. However, while people like me might be willing to get on our hands and knees and scrape up gobs of lead paint; most people are not. They are going to rip anything that's painted with lead out and put it in the trash heap. If I just "paint over" lead paint because "it's easier" I am potentially setting up my home to be gutted someday.

Now I have the time (although very little) and the motivation (very much) to do this. Not everyone does. But no home I have ever owned will have a single piece of woodwork torn out of it because it has lead paint on it. I can't guarantee some idiot won't tear it all down for something they consider "better" but I've done my part to ensure that what is original in the house is livable for the next person and more likely to be saved.

A lot of builders in our area are building Craftsmen style homes. While they are modern looking on the inside, they are still a million times better looking on the outside then the post WWII tract cookie cutter homes and the McMansion's sprawling like a cancer on the landscape!