The Cottage

A realtor was the first to refer to this little house as The Cottage and this tag appealed to me immediately. 

The Cottage - Before

The Cottage - After

This run-down home had been abandoned by the family that owned it and although it had great potential, many had opted not to buy it.  Because no one else wanted it, The Cottage was the perfect project for me.  After I bought it, I got right to work; I moved every interior door, every window, relocated and rebuilt the stairs, demoed the old front porch and built new ones (at relocated front and back doors), expanded the second floor, added a half bathroom, moved the kitchen, moved all the interior walls (except one that was critical structurally), and lowered the floor downstairs to establish 8’ high ceilings (in lieu of the 6’ 4” headroom I’d inherited). 

I moved into the The Cottage after I sold and moved out of The Fire House.  I finished it while I lived there and then designed and built a new home on a vacant, adjoining lot that had been part of the original deal to buy The Cottage. After I sold it, I moved into the new house before I took on the next project; a home torn up by Hurricane Hugo that we call The Hurricane House.             

The Picture Window at The Bungalow

It will come as no surprise that I am a big fan of This Old House; the television show, the magazine, and the web site.  The current issue (Jan./Feb. 2012) of my magazine subscription put forth a question:  How have YOU used salvaged architectural details in your home?

In 2008, I bought a Pig’s Ear to renovate in Charleston, SC that we call The Bungalow. Although this 50 year old house had not been condemned, it should have been.  The roof leaked, the heated and cooling system had been abandoned, there were plumbing leaks, the electrical system was a mess, floors were caving in, there were serious structural issues, and without question it was the ugliest and worst home on the street.

The Bungalow - Before

The Bungalow - After

After I addressed all the major issues, I had one minor matter that was solved with a salvaged architectural item.  My task: a space within the heart of the home needed some natural light.  The solution:  replace window panes in the home’s original picture window with equivalently sized mirrors and mount it on an interior wall to create the illusion and feel of a window.  I understand that this is not an overly original idea.  However, I will take credit for carefully removing the window during demolition and then storing (and moving) it safely throughout the two year renovation until I needed it. 

This mirrored pictured window not only added natural light into this part of the house, but it brought charm and an element of craftsmanship that was not costly or time consuming.  Since I salvaged the home’s original picture window my cost for the frame was $0.  It took a couple hours to safely remove the glass panes, a little time for two coats of paint on the frame, and two or three more hours to buy and install the twenty 11” x 14” mirrors which I bought from a glass shop for $3.50 apiece (although I had quotes for twice that).

Eating Area - Before/During Renov.

Eating Area - After  (Same view)

When renovating a house, I always make an effort to redesign it to feel bigger than its actual square footage.  The Bungalow was one of these homes and the mirrored pictured window helped to make this feeling come about.  The wooden frame made it look like an authentic window and the mirrors created an effect of openness and light that felt real as well.  Most people (but not all) weren’t fooled and knew what the mirrored frame detail actually was, but what made it so gratifying for me was that it created something necessary and at the same time special because I was able to repurpose part of the original house and incorporate it within the interior that was all (except for the wood floors) new.   

Picture Window with Mirrors Installed

Blood and Sweat

I had a childhood career of play that ended up being a good foundation to the fundamentals of building. During this playtime I learned how to put things together to make something better, which was also a good introduction to the art and science of construction.

As a little boy, I spent hours digging in the sandbox. I had a nice collection of miniature cars, trucks, and farm vehicles. I also had multi-colored plastic animals that had been collected from the bottom of the breakfast cereal boxes. I would build roads, mountains, and houses in the sand and form up walls to keep the animals corralled. I’d also break asbestos shingles off the side of the barn that I could use to make roofs and bridges in the sand. Using these shingles may be the first example of me making the most of whatever materials I had to work with.

During cold weather months I’d build inside with blocks, with Captain Kangaroo on the TV keeping me company. I fell in love with Legos, but also had fun building with Lincoln Logs, metal erector sets, and one of Kenner’s Girder and Panel building kits. I really loved playing baseball and collected baseball cards, using these cards to build too.

After I outgrew the sandbox, the kids in my family would make hay forts in our barn lofts and I built wooden platforms in the trees of the backyard, safe enough for me and a half dozen other kids.

Then I paid for college with blood and sweat on construction jobs. I have scars on my hands, arms, and legs from rebar that sliced my skin like razor blades, and more than once I stopped the bleeding with fast food napkins and duct tape from the job truck before I rejoined my crew when a concrete truck was on the way.  

I also have plenty of scars from playing. Besides baseball, I loved all the sports I discovered, but a dodgeball story is a good example of how I inadvertently mixed blood and sweat to get people’s attention. It was Junior High Phys. Ed. class and we took our dodgeball seriously. In one game, I caught the red ball before slamming my head into the corner of the brick gymnasium wall. The blood and sweat mixed together, making the injury look even more serious. In the end, a faculty member had to get me to the emergency room for a few stiches, but my head wound wasn’t as bad as it had initially appeared to my classmates, teachers, and the staff in the school office.      

Like that watered-down gash, my project houses have often appeared to be worse than they actually were. They have all been in pretty rotten shape, but they haven’t been landfill-worthy like so many people have warned.

I’ve always taken a real hands-on approach to my projects. This has been critical in my career because it helps me understand how the houses have been built and what needs to happen to put them back together the way I picture them in my scarred head. There’s been a lot of blood and sweat, and rehabbing has led to more scars and trips to the ER. But after twenty years, I’m still standing, and hammering, and without my own blood and sweat, it just wouldn’t be the same.

Rewritten December 14, 2019

The Fire House - After

The brightest thing I saw on the Fire House when I found it was the prominent red tag on the front door declaring that the home had been ‘CONDEMNED.’  It was vacant and run-down and pulling down the property values of everything surrounding it.  It was an eye sore and a Pig’s Ear and twelve months after starting, it had been transformed into the most valuable house on the street.  Not only was the Fire House no longer a neighborhood liability, but several of my new neighbors credited me with making their homes more valuable.  I’m no home appraiser, but I sure agree that the neighborhood was better than when I started because the ugliest house on a highly-visible corner had been fixed up.  The outside was clean and bright and the driveway, sidewalk, and landscaping were all more distinct and well defined. 

The brightness and improved appearance from the street initially got people’s attention.  Strangers knocked on the door, clearly curious to see how things looked on the interior and the responses were a huge payoff after the year long project.  The common living space of the Fire House’s interior underwent the most radical makeover.  The conversion of the garage into a den and the addition of the master suite (both by previous owners) had made valuable square footage in the Fire House into little more than extra wide spaces for foot traffic.  This inefficient use of valuable space had been the biggest challenge when I reworked the living area on paper before I started.  I relocated the back door, extended one hall and added another hallway to establish a more efficient flow within the ranch house.  I made the original living room (which had been like a gigantic foyer) a dining room, I converted the laundry room into a breakfast/eating area, and made the dining area from the original home into the hall leading to the new back door (which was next to the new laundry room).  In addition, I opened up the main living space by re-framing the area over the den as a cathedral height ceiling (twelve feet) and by adding columns in lieu of solid walls when possible.  This openness was the most dramatic change on the inside with the refinished heart pine floors being the second dramatic difference that grabbed people’s attention when they walked through the front door.  There wasn’t much that needed done on the bedrooms and bathrooms of the Fire House.  They all received new carpet and fresh coats of paint, but little more.  

The view from the den looking up into the kitchen.

The view from the kitchen looking down into the den. 

And finally, besides finishing this house within budget and receiving my Certificate of Occupancy on schedule I must also report that there was no trace of smoke odors when the renovation was complete.  And a few months after completion, the Fire House was featured on thisoldhouse.com as a monthly winner of their Your Old House contest.  

 

This was the corner of the Fire House that was totally obscured by overgrown bushes. 

The back corner of the house with the new, relocated back door and deck.

  

Jump to The Fire House - Before

Jump to The Fire House - During 

The Fire House - During

We call it the Fire House, because it was condemned by local building officials years after a dryer fire in the laundry room pushed the home into the category of uninhabitable.  It was the only run-down, vacant house on the street and I saw its potential immediately.  There was a towering Oak tree in the back yard, a pair of giant Pines in front, and a couple of beautiful Magnolia’s that needed pruning, but were still busting with southern charm.  The garage in the house had been converted into a large den, but there was a detached carport in the back yard that contained much needed storage space for materials, tools, and equipment that would be required for the renovation work.

It's clear to see that I'm covered with soot.  This was how it was for months until the drywall was hung.

I made a lot of new friends as I renovated the Fire House.  The families nearby and around the neighborhood were excited to learn that someone had bought the place with the intention of fixing it up.  The brick had been painted light gray, the shingles on the roof were a darker shade of gray, and the trim was a very, very dark blue that looked more like black.  It was an extremely ugly, dreary house and it’s no wonder someone called it a Pig’s Ear.  

 

For the entire year, I spent all my spare time working on the Fire House.  Nearly every evening after work and any spare time I had on the weekends.  However, to be accurate, it hardly felt like work for me because I wholeheartedly loved every minute of the time that I worked on that house.  I did all the initial cleanup and demolition by myself as well as the carpentry (framing and fine), roofing, and landscaping.  I won’t say that these were all simple tasks, but they were accomplishable as I knocked them out in progressive, steady steps before I went on to the next activity on the project.   

The converted garage included a fire place.

When I started the Fire House I was in no way an experienced home renovator.  I knew where I wanted to go and by that I mean I could picture how I wanted the home to look and feel when I was finished, but I certainly didn’t know exactly how I was going to get there.  It was an adventure (as I’ve written before) and my plan took shape in specific ways day-by-day, week-by-week, and month-by-month.  I failed more than one inspection and once had to frantically figure out how to shut off the water to the house after I started doing plumbing work I was unqualified for and had water shooting out of one the shower valves.  I didn’t let any of those missteps or screw-ups discourage me.  I was willing to admit that I had a lot to learn, I made the required corrections when needed, and I pushed on.  I hired tradesmen for the plumbing, HVAC, electrical, insulation, drywall, masonry, cabinetry, painting, and flooring.  I won’t say that these crews shared my vision or optimism for how the house would be resurrected, but as long as my checks cleared at the bank, they were happy to be a part of the team.  

This is a view from the spot of the fire.  What had once been the laundry room had become the future breakfast area next to the kitchen & the space that had been the living area would soon be the dining room.

Jump to The Fire House - Before

Jump to The Fire House - After

The Fire House - Before

The Fire House was vacant, yet For Sale when I saw it for the first time.  There was trash and abandoned children’s toys throughout the overgrown corner lot and a red tag on the front door that officially labeled it as condemned.  There was a charred hole in the roof over the laundry room as clear evidence of the fire that had caused the home’s demise and more than one window had been broken, likely by rocks thrown by kids in the neighborhood.  When co-workers learned of my plans to purchase and renovate the house, they tried to persuade me to reconsider.  It was the ugliest home on the street and people just had a tough time getting a handle on where I'd start and found it difficult (if not impossible) to imagine the place in livable condition. However, I saw a forgotten brick home with potential that would be transformed into an amazing place to live when I was finished.

I borrowed money to buy and renovate the Fire House.  My agreement with the bank included a twelve month time limit to complete the renovations and receive my Certificate of Occupancy from the local Building Officials.  More than one person advised me that I’d be unable to obtain my CO in that amount of time because I was doing so much of the work myself while working my full time job that occupied the majority of my time Monday through Friday and portions of my Saturdays.  In addition, I was peppered with warnings about the smoke smell that existed in the house as quite a few folks thought it was there to stay. 

I grew up in the Midwest and had spent plenty of time with my sleeves rolled up shoveling manure, baling hay, and detasseling corn.  In addition to that I'd also had a lot of fun on our small farm building tree houses and hay forts.  For me, work, building, and fun had been rolled into one for much of my life.  I heard what people said when I started to work on the run-down house, but didn’t really understand why they were so full of doubts.  I felt confident that the Fire House would look, feel, and be a real gem when I was done.  I didn’t sleep very well the night before my first day of work, but it wasn’t nerves making me toss and turn in my bed, I was simply too excited to sleep well.   

The Back of the Fire House where the damage was the most extensive.

The Front Corner of the Fire House

The Kitchen, next to the Laundry Room

The Back Inside Corner of the Fire House.  The section to the left of the bay window was a previous addition that added a Master Suite which turned the 3 bedroom, 1bath Ranch into a 4 bdrm., 2 ba. home.

Jump to The Fire House - During

Jump to The Fire House - After

Renovating a Pig's Ear is American?

There’s something very American about wrapping yourself around a challenge others say is impossible.  Christopher Columbus ignored naysayers and set off to find a better route to Asia in the east by traveling west. And consider the American Revolutionaries who came up with the notion to break away from the British Empire. There were certainly more than a few who didn’t think that was such a good idea. And what about landing on the Moon? Who did we really think we were setting our sights on that goal? But that’s what we’ve grown up to believe in; putting things on the line and persevering to achieve what others say can’t and/or shouldn’t be done.  

It’s A Wonderful Life is a classic American movie made back in the 1940’s. In one memorable scene of that film George and Mary are standing outside the abandoned Granville house. Mary says she wants to live in it someday just before George makes a ‘hatful of wishes’ and then breaks some glass by throwing a rock. They ultimately get married, honeymoon in the old home, fix it up, and raise a family there. This house was definitely in the Pig’s Ear category.

At the start of the process of renovating a Pig’s Ear, I’m anxious and willing to roll up my sleeves and get to work and for me, buying and resurrecting these wrecks have exemplified American capitalism. I invest money, make improvements, and then (if all goes well) I sell for a higher amount which creates a profit that compensates me for my time and the risk I’ve taken.  

I believe that buying and rehabbing an old, run-down home exemplifies who we are as Americans, especially if the house is considered a hopeless cause and beyond the point of repair. It’s not easy, but in most cases that’s why other people have not fixed up these properties. Sometimes it’s hard to explain why renovating a Pig’s Ear is such an amazing experience. There are so many reasons, large and small, but this tie-in to our American Spirit is at least to some degree an element that draws me in to take these projects on and see them through to completion.     

Renovating a House is An Adventure

        I was born in the sixties, am a child of the seventies, was a teenager all through the eighties. And that’s why I grew up with a palpable fear of quicksand. Gilligan’s Island, the Scooby Doo gang, and the Princess Bride film all made me believe that quicksand was something that I was going to be dealing with on a regular basis. However, as I write this chapter, to my surprise and relief, I can report that I’ve never had to shout for help or scramble frantically for a branch or stick to keep from sinking to my death in a remote soup of water and gritty muck.

         When you hear the word adventure, what comes to your mind? Maybe now, because of me, you’re thinking of quicksand, but would you otherwise picture pirates on the open sea or soldiers in the heat of battle? Maybe the mention of adventure makes you think about the runaway slaves in the Underground Railroad, or you may go right to thoughts of pioneers in the mountains, living off the land, hunting and fishing to survive?

I was born at Wayne Hospital in Greenville, Ohio, the biggest town in Darke County. Long before it was the county seat, it was Fort Greene Ville, named in honor of Nathanael Greene, General of the Southern Theater in the American Revolution. Our county was named for Revolutionary War General William Darke.

My family and I lived in a house on Wayne Avenue. The local hospital and our street were both named for General Anthony Wayne, nicknamed Mad Anthony because he was an infamous hot head. Meriwether Lewis and William Clark were under the command of Major General Mad Anthony at Fort Greene Ville before they reunited years later for their adventurous expedition with Pocahontas to the Pacific Northwest.

          Legendary sharpshooter Phoebe Ann Moses is from Brock, Ohio, a rural area just north of my hometown. She performed for world leaders and royal families as Annie Oakley, before retiring to Greenville at the end of her life.

          We left Wayne Avenue before I started kindergarten, moving to a small farm out in the country. I went to Washington Elementary, named of course for the most famous general of the American Revolution, President George Washington. Then, like all the other kids in the district I went to school in Greenville from sixth grade until I graduated from Greenville High School in 1986.

          The following year, the house of Lowell Thomas’ birth was relocated from the small hamlet of Woodington to the museum grounds in Greenville. Thomas is best known as an adventuring newsman and pioneering journalist for Movietone Newsreel and the Voice of America. He traveled the world to interview people like Lawrence of Arabia and a fourteen-year-old Dalia Lama in Tibet.

          Maybe my own awareness of adventure traces back to these formative years in Darke County, learning about our nation’s early militia or people like Lewis and Clark, Little Miss Sure Shot, and the world traveling Thomas.

I can tell you that when I’ve been on the other side of some rotten luck, my go to mantra has been, “Life is an adventure.” When I was driving alone in the mountains and my jeep died for no obvious reason, I tried to remain calm and remember, “Life’s an adventure.” While I was in a rain forest in Papua New Guinea, concerned about getting lost and being discovered by a native tribe of cannibals, I reminded myself that, “I was on an adventure.” And when I’m digging in to one of my gnarly project houses and have to deal with a slithering snake, a rogue contractor, or an inconsiderate Mother Nature, I go to my happy place and listen to my inner monologue as I circle back to this motto and remember that, like life, renovating a house is an adventure.

Keep in mind that each renovation is different. That’s what makes it interesting and exciting, yet it also adds to the challenge. I never know exactly what I’m going to find when I open up a wall or climb in the attic. I may discover something gross, but I might also reveal a valuable or cool trinket that ends up being the high point of my day. And that, my friends, is all part of the fun.

Most of my home renovation projects have been extreme; houses that have been condemned or abandoned. One way to look at these types of rehabs is to recognize that there’s nowhere to go but up when a house is in really deplorable condition. And the bigger the challenge, the larger the payoff, but also the more of an adventure it is.

My type of project is not for everyone. However, doing a simpler project that requires a little TLC, a fixer upper, or a handyman special are still going to provide plenty of daunting challenges, interesting strangers and new friends, as well as cool discoveries. I’m just saying that when you take on a really jacked-up house, you have to be ready for just about anything. And if you’re jumping on the pig’s ear bandwagon, buckle up and get ready for a wild ride.

Contrary to what some have said, I’m not a “gluten for punishment.” Though, I admittingly love a good adventure and building things. When you put those together, you end up with a career buying and fixing up houses that other people think need a date with a bulldozer and dump truck, fueled up and ready to head to the landfill.         

          This blog is not to scare or deter anyone from buying a home that needs work. On the contrary. I’m ready to try to educate folks on what I do and how I do it. I can’t help but get excited and encourage anyone either in the market or already into a home rehab project. I’d love to make a pledge that if you read Blood, Sweat, and Pig's Ears, you won’t make any mistakes, but that’s unrealistic. It’s important to keep in mind that missteps and pitfalls are just part of the experience.   

          If and when you renovate a house, you’re going to have to deal with someone who over charges you or tries to get too deep in your pocket. It happens so just be ready for it. Be alert and try hard not to get ripped off, but if you do, cut yourself a break and be determined to learn from it and avoid a reboot of the same mistake.

You should also be prepared to feel in over your head once in a while. The good news is, you can step back to cruise the information super highway and fill in the gap between what you know and what you need to understand better.

Be ready for a major hiccup in your schedule; a blown delivery, an out-of-stock item that puts you in a bind, or a contractor you really trusted who leaves you in the lurch. Having a contingency in the back of your mind is not planning to fail. Keeping a Plan B in your pocket at all times is prudent, and if that one falls through, the alphabet has twenty-four more letters.

Remember not to dwell on a failed inspection as if it’s a total failure. It’s just part of your education. Address the deficiencies without arguing too strenuously with the building official. You may pay the taxes, insurance, and utility bills, but when the inspector walks across your threshold, he or she is the top dog.

          I can promise you that you’ll be working on something and getting sweat and/or blood on the thing you’re focused on. Yes, in the name of Daniel Day Lewis, there will be blood and you may even have to take a trip to the emergency room. And while you’re sitting there, waiting for the doctor, remember to close your eyes and silently—or out loud, whichever fits the moment best—say to yourself, “Renovating a house is an adventure.” 

It's Possible

Blood, Sweat, and Pig's Ears is all about doing things other people say can’t be done.  Growing up, my friends and I loved the Rocky movies.  The Italian Stallion always did the impossible.  Nobody thought Rocky could hang in there with Apollo Creed, but he did it.  He went the distance.  Then in Rocky II he defeated Apollo.  Maybe that's why I grew up ignoring other people's negative predictions.  It might just all trace back to Rocky Balboa.

When someone say’s, “You can’t turn a Pig’s Ear into a Silk Purse,” they’re saying you can’t do the impossible.  Fine, I get that.  But who’s to say what’s possible and what isn’t.  There are plenty of folks out there ready to pour cold water on your plans, whether you’re excited about renovating an old house, starting a small business, running for public office, or doing just about anything others judge to be extremely challenging.  What I’ve found is that when someone feels compelled to say, “You can’t do it,” what they are really letting you know is that they believe they can’t or are mystified about how you’re going to achieve your objective. 

I’m not a big fan of the word impossible, but I will share something now that utilizes that word.  It would be impossible for me to name all the times people have heard details of my house renovation plans and let me know with attitudes of authority that what I’ve described could not be done.  I’ve also had lots of support and encouragement from people who have been excited about my projects from the beginning to the end.  All the time, strangers walk by and say things like, “The house is looking great.  Keep it up.  We can’t wait to see how it turns out,” or “We’ve been waiting a long time for someone to come and fix this place up,” and one of my favorites was a man I had never met and only saw once.  He was bursting with excitement as he walked by and shouted, “You’re doing it man!  You’re really doing it!”  Apparently, I had converted him into a believer. 

But there’s a third category of people that seem to consistently migrate to each of my Pig’s Ear projects; people who are curious to know how I do what I do and how they can do the same.  I love to encourage other people to follow their dreams and although my writing will be exemplified with knowledge and experience from renovating Pig’s Ears, in many ways the lessons are applicable to anything other people think can’t be done.  In twenty years working in the construction industry and a decade renovating extremely run-down homes, I’ve come to believe that if someone tells you something is impossible, and you don’t even try, then they will be right. 

So, if you have a big, impossible dream, treat any obstacles as if they were Clubber Lang/Mr. T in Rocky III.  Don't let those challenges bust you up.  Embrace the profound words of wisdom uttered by Rocky Balboa and 'Go for it.'