Of Old Houses And Young Men


Old houses have always fascinated me.  Perhaps it is because I grew up in a sea of white aluminum siding in a neighborhood that was no older than I was.  Which seems so quaint now that we are well into the era of the Vinyl Village.  Which may be why I find those mid-century suburbs to be interesting and cool now – a good thing seeing as how I live in one of them.  But in my youth it was the old houses that I loved, and I still do.

Like everything else, houses have undergone many changes in style over the years.  And because of their longevity those changes are on display for all of us to see.

This thing for old houses bubbled up about a week ago when I helped one of my sons move some things into his first solo apartment.   You know, the kind of living quarters that does not involve a roommate.  The apartment is one of four in an old house in an old neighborhood that is trying hard to avoid the fate of so many old neighborhoods in our cities.

A walk up the narrow stairs took us into a small but tidy living space that is perfectly sized for a single person.  It reminded me of a couple of places I lived during my college years.

This wood frame American Foursquare house was built in 1910 (I looked it up on the property records that my county maintains online), a time when many homes in American cities were built.  The house appears to have been built as a double (Indianapolis-speak for “duplex”) that has had each half subdivided into two units at some point in the long-distant past.

I was struck by the durability of the old place.  Places like this where I had lived as a young man struck me as ancient then, and they were probably as old as this one.  So this one is – what – ancient plus thirty-five years?

In an era of plastic and planned obsolescence it is kind of amazing to me that these old places are continuing to do what they have always done – provide decent shelter for their inhabitants.

I wondered who built it.  Was it a multi-generational family that liked the idea of two separate living spaces?  Or was it built by someone who could only afford a new home if it brought with it the opportunity to create some rental income from the other half?  A little reading reveals that it was a solid middle class neighborhood with a young dentist and a Presbyterian minister having built houses elsewhere on the block.

This house sheltered people who may have never heard of Serbia before a war started in Europe in 1914.  Think about it – this place predates commercial radio by about a decade.  If the first owners had a phonograph they likely played Enrico Caruso and John Phillip Sousa records, because nobody started recording jazz until about 1917.  William Howard Taft had replaced Teddy Roosevelt as President only two years earlier.

Duplex living may have seemed a little old fashioned during the prosperity of the 1920s and maybe its first owner moved somewhere nicer.  The place was there to catch those who fell on tough times in the ’30s and perhaps this was when it was subdivided as a way to keep up on the payments.  I could see the small apartment later serving as home for a woman who went to work in a wartime factory as she hoped for the return of her man in uniform.

It was probably in the 1950s that it begun to serve as a place for the young looking to get that (inexpensive) start in life, a role that it likely kept into the ’60s.  The 1970s and ’80s were a tipping point for many of these old neighborhoods, but this one has held on and is working its way back to being a place where a young person wants to live as he gets a foothold on life in the real world.

This is not the kind of structure that has undergone one of those television show rehabs that we see so often now.  No, this place has the same old plaster walls and claw-foot bathtub with a shower curtain that hooks around a big metal ring near the tall ceiling.  The siding displays over a century of painting – I wonder how many layers and colors we could find if we were to look?

The windows are still balanced by sash weights and the same creaky old wooden floors are there under the newer carpet and vinyl.  The heating system seems to have been modernized but even so at least one of the old gravity registers is still there from some long-ago coal-fired furnace.

Yes, this ancient collection of wood, plaster and copper is there to welcome yet another generation to adult life in America.  I am glad it is still here because it will teach its new inhabitant the same lessons it has been teaching for many decades.

It will tutor its tenant on the age-old battle of keeping the cold out and the warm in.  It will transmit the sounds of others living elsewhere within those exterior walls, stoking the urge for home ownership.  It will remind my lad that not everyone has the luxuries that he has grown up with – like electrical circuits that can handle a microwave oven, a vacuum cleaner and four lamps all at once.  I am guessing on this last one, but doesn’t every old building have a circuit or two that blows a fuse or trips a breaker much too easily?  I know I have lived in places like that.

Some young people from middle and upper class neighborhoods start out in places just as nice as where they grew up.  I think this is a mistake.  These old houses give young folks a grounding that will serve them well as they move on in life.  He may catch the “old house bug” or he may run as far from it as he can when he is ready to upgrade.  Either way this house will have helped to inform his decision.

Somehow I doubt that today’s cookie-cutter houses with their particleboard and other “modern materials” will be housing folks a century from now, at least not without massive renovations.  But these that were built with the old materials and the old ways are still here doing just that.  And will likely continue to do so for the next generation too.


12 thoughts on “Of Old Houses And Young Men

  1. Jim, you are so spot on about these old houses.

    During our time in rental purgatory (between putting our old house in Hannibal up for sale and finally finding a new one in JC), we spent a few years in an old, high quality farmhouse that had been built around 1895.

    The single family owned house had been acquired by a developer who built McMansions on the acreage that had been part of it. So sitting atop the hill was this old two-story farmhouse that allowed us to look down (literally) upon everyone else.

    Some of my thoughts echoed yours. People learned about both World Wars in that house, from newspapers in the first and perhaps radio in the second. Who had been conceived in the house and who had died there? The house was a silent witness to the entire 20th Century.

    There is a true fascination with these old houses, an appreciation for which didn’t develop until later in life.


    • You touch on how the area around an old house can change too. In our Midwestern cities where there is a constant march towards the new, an old neighborhood that can remain a decent place to live is something to appreciate.


  2. Great one this week JP. Our first home as a married couple was a 1910-ish house which provided many lessons on maintenance, repair and dealing with landlords & neighbors. The main lesson was “don’t fix up someone else’s house for free”. When we left we ripped out the 220V breaker and wiring we’d installed for a dryer because our landlord wouldn’t give us $100 to cover the material cost.

    We both love old houses, but the time and/or money commitment to keep ahead to the maintenance has always made me appreciate them from afar.

    Unfortunately our area has just had it’s first knock down reno in a while. Perfectly good 750 sq foot brick single level from 1920s, boom gone to make way for a McMansion no doubt on it’s generous lot.


    • I hate teardowns like the one you describe but have mixed feelings on renovations. On the one hand, people need to live in these houses and we surely don’t live as we did a century ago. However, I am always sad to see something functional but old ripped out for what is stylish today (but won’t be in another 10 years). I guess I am with houses like I am with cars. I love faithful restoration, I am OK with tasteful functional upgrades but I hate restomods/total remodels that retain nothing but the exterior shape.


  3. I dream of owning a house like this. In Indy, that means either a dangerous neighborhood or a gentrified neighborhood I won’t be willing to afford. It’s frustrating.

    My first apartment was in a house much like the one your son moved into. I wrote about my experience there: https://blog.jimgrey.net/2014/12/10/a-place-to-start-3/

    My hope for your son is that he grows up and clarifies his values in his first apartment as much as I did in mine.


  4. We just moved from a house built in 1928 to one built in 1967. I originally liked the old style but the maintenance was quite over the top. The late 60’s style is very cool too and a lot less stressful on the bank account!


    • I do not doubt you. This probably explains why the total gutting and remodeling by those who can afford it is so popular.
      I spent 5 years in a 1927 bungalow and loved it. But if we had not outgrown it as a family, there was a lot that could/should have been done had we stayed.


  5. I bought this house in Boonton NJ in 2013. Built in 1905, it is a very rare find–original siding and windows (with diamond panes), parquet floors, original doors, hardware, and interior oak woodwork (never painted). Purple puddingstone walls around the front and side. I even have a copy of the original floor plan and rendering of the outside. It was designed by J. H. Daverman & Son of Grand Rapids, MI.

    Most houses like this have either been “remuddled” (modernized in a way that takes all the charm out of them) or demolished. Here’s a picture:

    House in Summertime

    Liked by 1 person

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