My Old House
In January 1999, I said goodbye to my downtown loft and moved into an old row house. While I got it at a terrific price, it took almost a year to close the deal. Sellers were dying, powers of attorney were dying, people were falling off roofs and my mortgage commitment was days away from expiring. It was a fitting prologue to the story.
I liked the style of the house but the initial attraction was the attached garage for my bikes. Almost every house on the street, except this one, was well cared for. The neighborhood was quiet and there was a pretty park at the end of the block, not that I would have time to actually visit it over the next few years.
The house had great bones but suffered from decades of neglect. I questioned whether or not I had bitten off more than I could chew. This wouldn't be a rip-and-replace for one thing. In my youth, I had worked on gut rehabs, which were essentially new construction. My prior home was a 5000 square foot factory space that I'd converted into a residential loft. I'd designed and built a couple of commercial recording studios. I had some cabinet and furniture making experience. But I wasn't really sure what to do with an old house, except what I saw on TV.
My intent was to return the house to some of its former glory and not cop out with a typical sheetrock-and-clamshell moulding rehab. The original house, as I later learned from seeing my neighbors' homes, contained a trove of woodworking treasures: two pairs of oak pocket doors, a carved oak mantle seat, oak crown mouldings, hardwood gingerbread detailing, five panel oak doors, and such. Mine were long gone. The irony is that they were probably traded off to fly by night handymen in exchange for the crummy work I was about to undo. What few attractive details remained in the house lay under layers of cheap latex paint.
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It doesn't look like a lot has changed but:
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These updates were done since July 2005:
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Wow, I've always wanted to renovate an old house!!
9/11/2001
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