The Purgatory of Demolition

We have been in demolition phase of our newest project for far too long. We've been busy (this blog has suffered too) and have had just a couple of hours a weekend to spend on the project for most of the summer.  You'd think we'd be more motivated since we're paying monthly dumpster rental fees, but we're just not getting it done.  Between jobs that often require evening events, lawn mowing, too hot summer weather, and just life in general, we've gotten ourselves stuck in demolition purgatory. 

Hopefully this weekend we can finish the last wall and start removing the necessary ceilings.  It's high time to start putting things back together.  Two dumpster loads have left the premises already which included the old roof, plaster and lath, ceiling tiles, old insulation, and sheetrock among other undesirable trash.  We have been recycling as we can, but there's still a lot of debris.  We've got piles for reusable lumber, trim to be stripped and reused, wiring and other metal, aluminum storm windows, fixtures, hardware, chimney bricks, the old cabinets...We've still got a lot of nail pulling and paint stripping ahead of us, but we can do that without a dumpster so, at least symbolically, we'll be headed out of purgatory!

The Economy of Preservation

We spent a nice day in Lewisburg, West Virginia last weekend.  One reason for choosing Lewisburg for a day trip was that it is close to our home in Southwest Virginia, but beyond that, even though we didn't consciously make the decision based on historic preservation, all of the reasons are inextricably tied to it:

• Lewisburg has a sense of place.  The minute you enter town, you know you are somewhere special and not in Anytown, USA.  History is evident from the old buildings and the tree-lined streets.  The business district has character and draws you in.  This is a place you want to stop.
  
• Lewisburg is pedestrian friendly.  Though several main roads connect in town, all of the roads are 2 lanes with parallel parking.  The parked cars and street trees help to provide a barrier between pedestrians and traffic while also slowing the cars driving through.  Why are the roads narrow?  Because the buildings are historic and were built at a time when pedestrians and horses were the norm or few people owned those new-fangled automobile things.
  
• Lewisburg is compact, yet expansive.  What do I mean by that?  The area that comprises downtown Lewisburg is just a few blocks, creating a compact area to walk around.  No sprawl here.  But it is expansive enough that you can spend an entire afternoon here eating lunch (and maybe dinner too) at a local restaurant; browsing the galleries of locally-made and high-quality arts and crafts, antique stores, and specialty shops; and taking the historic walking tour.  You can expand your trip to the evening too by taking in a show at Carnegie Hall and spend the night at a local B&B.
  
• Money spent in Lewisburg stays local.  The majority of businesses are locally owned and not owned by a faceless conglomerate in another state who doesn't really even know where Lewisburg is.  That means that money you spend in Lewisburg most likely returns to business owners and employees who live locally.  If they, in turn, spend the money they earned from you locally, then the returns to the local economy snowball.

I don't know the logistics of how Lewisburg became the community it is today, but I do know that many small towns have used federal and state historic preservation funding and tax credits to help them revitalize and reinvent themselves after experiencing extended economic downturns due to lost industries and changes in the way people shop.  What does federal and state preservation funding accomplish for these towns?  It creates jobs.  It creates jobs for the people who restore and rehabilitate the historic buildings to be used by restaurants, galleries, specialty shops, grocery and hardware stores, office space, apartments, and a myriad of other uses.  It creates jobs for the business owners and their staff that occupy the historic buildings.  It creates jobs for tourism-related businesses such as restaurants, lodging, and gas that are needed so visitors can spend the day, spend the night, spend the week.  These may not be the large-scale industrial park-type industries our politicians are thinking of when they chant the "more jobs" mantra, but these small local businesses are important for rural economies, small town residents, and the American way of life.  And funding to help with these preservation projects is vital to our economy.  That might not be so obvious if you live in Anytown, USA.

Forces of Nature

We were very fortunate last week.  We live in Virginia, but weren't effected by either the earthquake or the hurricane.  We felt a little shaking, we had a little breeze, but nary a drop of rain.  Many owners of historic houses in Virginia were not so lucky with reports of collapsed chimneys and facades, cracks in brick and stone, uprooted historic trees, long power outages.  Things could certainly have been worse, but they are certainly not easy for those who received damage and must now make the tough decisions about repairing, demolishing, and rebuilding.  Preservation Virginia, the Virginia Department of Historic Resources, and the National Trust for Historic Preservation can all help historic property owners in Virginia with resources to make those tough decisions.  An article in the Alexandria Times talks about the importance of earthquake or hurricane bolts in the historic brick buildings of Alexandria in keeping damage to a minimum and mentions Virginia's last major earthquake which was centered in our county.

Our thoughts also go out to those New England and New York where flooding from Irene has caused unfathomable damage to historic buildings and structures.  It's just heartbreaking to see covered bridges washed into swollen rivers and water flowing through buildings.  I grew up in a New Hampshire town with a covered bridge connecting it to the next town.  Fortunately, the water levels weren't so high there as to put the bridge in danger, but I can certainly empathize with the pain people are feeling for lost bridges.

In our current economic situation, it's hard to believe that any of the bridges will be rebuilt, at least not as iconic covered bridges.  I don't think that it is nostalgia that necessarily drives our emotions when we lose historic bridges and buildings.  The loss of a sense of character is powerful.  The covered bridges and quintessential New England villages draw people because they are different.  They have a very strong sense of place.  You can tell one bridge or one town from another.  You know you are somewhere special the minute you enter town.  Much of our construction today evokes "Anywhere, USA".  From bridge to buildings, you can't tell where you are.  You could be in Connecticut or you could be in Texas, the styles of newer structures and chains tend to be similar.  We're losing our regional architecture and, with it, our sense of place.  That's why it is so painful to see catastrophic damage to the historic structures that define the uniqueness of our communities.  That's why we should make an effort to repair or reconstruct rather than demolish and replace.

 

Vinyl's Final

Well, not really.  Vinyl really isn't final, no matter what the salesmen will have you think.  You might not have to paint it, but you'll have to replace it when it cracks or otherwise starts to look shabby.  If you have vinyl siding near the ground on your house and you have a penchant for weed whacking, it's likely you'll crack the siding yourself the first time your power tool throws a rock into it.  

So, no, vinyl isn't final.  In fact, as a preservationist, vinyl is the enemy.  It is a covering that removes the architectural character from trim, windows, and gables of historic homes.  It holds moisture on the siding it covers, causing the original siding to deteriorate.  It lasts 20 - 30 years before replacement if you're lucky, but the wood siding that was covered will last many, many more years than that if properly maintained.  From an environmental standpoint, the chemicals and amount of energy used to make vinyl siding are certainly not green.  Vinyl siding cannot be recycled when it is replaced and so it goes directly to the landfill where it probably doesn't break down or is incinerated, releasing it's toxic chemicals into the air.

So why am I talking about vinyl.  It's because I have a confession to make.  We used vinyl on our project house.  <Gasp!>  Here's our reasoning:  The house had badly curled cedar shingles cover the attic dormer and ends (you can see them here). The shingles needed to be replaced.  The house is a bit of a hodge podge of vernacular construction, from the simple, non-matching windows to the asbestos siding.  We're going to flip the house and, frankly, we live in a rather depressed area, so we're looking to keep costs low and the house comfortable while still maintaining the house's character.  We wanted to keep the feel of the shingles on the third floor.  We priced out cedar shingles and vinyl siding that looked like shingles.  The vinyl was much cheaper.  We figured that since the siding will be so far off the ground, it won't be obvious that it is vinyl, it won't be damaged by rocks thrown up by the mower, and it's not detracting from the house's character by covering any existing details.  

So we did it.  We used vinyl.  We'll turn in our preservationist membership card if need be, but we stand by our decision.

What the?!?

Sometimes, we just see architectural "features" that make us scratch our heads.  Case in point is this chimney near our project house.  It appears to have been built at this angle and not that it has sagged to the angle over time.  Do you suppose the chimney continues at an angle inside the house?

(Addendum, 9/19/11: I looked over at this house yesterday and noticed that the chimney had fallen onto the roof of the house!  I don't know if gravity took over or if the earthquake we had a few weeks ago was enough to take it out.  Glad I got a photo when I did!)

A New Roof at Westview

In a perfect world, all fixer-uppers would have a new roof and those of us crazy enough to take them on wouldn't have to worry about that one little detail.  Unfortunately, when people give up on a house, it seems that the expense of replacing a roof is one of the reasons they give up.  The house we live in had multiple leaks when we first bought it and the remains of some really bad attempts at plugging up missing flashing with roofing tar and caulking.  We got the flashing fixed and a few roofing tiles replaced and we've been dry ever since.

At the Westview project house, we knew there were roofing issues when we bought the house.  The blue tarps were the first clue.  The old curling asphalt shingles that blew off in the mountain winds were the second.  We've had a roofer lined up for several months now, but since we're in no hurry, we told them they could put us later in the queue.  Well, this week, they finally got to us.  They took the old roof off Monday morning.  Fortunately, despite the terrible condition of the old roof, it hadn't been leaking enough to damage the oak decking so little work had to take place before replacement could begin.  As of yesterday afternoon (prior to the thunderstorms, fortunately), we had a new asphalt architectural shingled roof!  Very nice, except that it highlights the peeling paint on the attic windows. 

The other slight problem was that the power line to the house was rather precarious and the debris coming off the roof pulled the power line free from the house.  So, we called to have the power company look at it since the roofers mentioned it had sparked when it pulled free and we didn't want to burn the house down.  The power company came by, took one look at that old power line, cut it, and took the meter.  Sooo, now we have NO power.  We only had one operational outlet anyway because the wiring in the house was downright dangerous, but this sets us back a bit since we don't own a generator.  We're investigating now how to get minimal power for construction.  At least painting windows can be done without a power source!

Keeping the Historic Building Trades Alive

We visited Colonial Williamsburg a couple of weeks ago. We enjoy the atmosphere and the step back in time. I am sure there are those who object to the view of history that Colonial Williamsburg provides or the fact that the colonial city is mostly reconstructed, but I say if visitors go away from there having learned more about the American Revolution and the basic tenets on which our country was founded, then that far overshadows any objection of the place. 

 Colonial Williamsburg's tradespeople help to create an atmosphere and teach people that 18th century life wasn't as easy as one-stop shopping at WalMart.  The tradespeople demonstrate how things are made and answer questions while they are working.  Weavers, spinners, basket makers, cabinet makers, blacksmiths, gunsmiths, coopers, wheelwrights...It is fascinating to see the old tools and skills needed to make things we take for granted today. 

Along with trades needed to take care of basic day-to-day needs, Colonial Wiliamsburg keeps the historic building trades alive. Much of the area surrounding Duke of Gloucester Street has been reconstructed based on archaeological digs, historical papers, drawings, and assumptions based on knowledge of other period buildings. Reconstruction has continued since the 1920s when John D. Rockefeller began the process. 

Often, when you visit, an archaeological investigation is underway to discover the details of an old building or a building is being reconstructed using historic methods. While we were there, the brick makers were forming bricks to dry in the sun. The brick kiln had just been fired - you could see the heat rising from it despite the 90 air degree temperature. Carpenters were working on the rafters "new" building near the blacksmith shop. Part of the roof structure was laid out on the ground while the carpenter cut a tenon joint on a rafter that would be fit in later. He said the boards had been pit sawn and that the lumber was from trees grown nearby. Wood roof shingles were being split nearby. 

The more you ask, the more you learn about the historic building trades, the strength and longevity of the buildings, and the pride the workers take in the construction.   Hopefully visitors can apply that to their surroundings when they return home and understand better the long-term, quality construction of old and historic buildings vs. the short-term, consumable construction of many buildings built today.