What defines an old home?
Beyond the obvious stat of "so many years old," what combination of parts and pieces are characteristic of an old home?
What elements must exist in an old home's DNA that allows us to classify it as an "old home?" It's certainly more than the mortar between its bricks and nails within its walls.
And most importantly, if these things that define an old home are lost over time, is the home's age also lost over that period, no matter how old the house may actually be?
Wendy and I recently had the opportunity to visit a quaint 19th century farmhouse on the Eastern Shore of Maryland that had so much potential to be a simply amazing place, but left us both feeling so flat that we were actually frustrated. We wanted to be blown away by the home's character and charm, but we left feeling like it didn't even have the vaguest potential.
The home itself was originally an 1880's three room down and three room up simple ell farmhouse. Classic in its simplicity, it was the victim of the modifications that had been made.
Forget original hardware and moldings (those were largely gone), the floor plan was nowhere near the original after a large two floor addition changed the location of the stairs, removed the only fireplace, stuffed bathrooms into odd places, and created a maze of rooms that could not flow in any era.
As frustrating as it may have been to see this home in its current state, this experience really got me to thinking about what it is that I look for in an old house that truly defines the structure. And more specifically, what have we done in our home to either preserve or reclaim our house's "old home" status?
Whenever I'm walking through an old home there are a handful of characteristic that tend to stand out as "original." I notice the doors and door hardware, such as knobs, lock sets, and hinges. I take note of the windows and whether they are rope and pulley, true divided light, and wood construction. The patina and pattern in the floors are also high on my list. I pay attention to the staircase's newel posts, handrail, spindles, treads, and risers. I look closely for heavier and matching molding, casings, baseboards, and in larger homes, crown. Fireplaces are also high on my list, whether I'm looking at the brickwork around the firebox or the mantel that adorns the wall. And I especially look for operable (or formerly operable) transom windows above interior and exterior doors in mid to late 19th century houses.
All of these items register high on my old home tally sheet, but what happens to a house if some or all of these items have been removed?
When we moved into our home it was in a state of flux. We like to call it "Bachelor Pad Chic," on account of the oversized and haphazardly placed furniture, flexible use of rooms (is it a dining room, or an office?), lack of general updates, and odd selection of paint colors when flat, dingy white was not being used, for example baby pink for the dining room ceiling.
Oh, and did we mention the state of our home's previous owner's refrigerator, full of condiments, potato chips, dry pasta, and candy bars? I think I see the four major food groups in there somewhere...you?
After decades of single men living in our home, with few actual upgrades to the space, our house had become a shell from the 1880s but a time capsule from the early 1980s when the bathrooms were last updated and all of the door knobs were replaced with modern polished brass.
Fortunately the windows, doors, most of the moldings, and fireplace mantels remained original, a major triumph for our old home.
This is where we came in. At first we had a tremendous desire to alter our home to make it something it's not. We wanted to open the wall for the staircase and add a handrail. We wanted to reconfigure rooms. We wanted to remove windows and replace them with modern energy efficient versions.
I had been brainwashed by the countless advertisements and misinformation swirling around the big business of home ownership. Replacement windows, open concept, solid surface, all buzz words that simply wouldn't work for us, but we didn't know better. Lucky for us, we didn't have the money to make these mistakes.
Instead we started by stripping our home's countless layers of poorly applied paint to reveal intricate fluted molding details that had been lost over the years. This gave us an appreciation for what out home might hold and began our transformed thought process about how we would renovate our home.
Since those early days we've taken things slowly and deliberately, learning along the way. The desire to rip into a room to make it what we want has given way to a sense of stewardship where we must listen to the room for what it needs.
We slowly collected old hardware over the years, including a dozen matching salvaged rim locks with a hole pattern matching that uncovered from one of our original doors, removing the brass hardware and bringing back white porcelain knobs.
Some of our original doors still possessed their original cast iron lift off hinges, which allowed us to focus our search in salvage yards and online for these particular hinges for the rest of our house.
Where possible we've been adding utilitarian function that may have existed in our home, but is still appropriate even if it was never around. Such is the case with our salvaged transom window lifts.
And in some cases, we've actually added transom windows to either balance a room...
...or give a purpose to an otherwise open and empty space.
And though it may be a bit out of character, the leaded glass isn't too much and fits with the house. (Though my misplacement of hinges on the side almost can't be forgiven. Gotta fix that some day.)
Our home's original moldings are such a major detail that defines the interior. When we couldn't find its profiles in any of the mills we searched, we had the pattern replicated to stay true to our home's soul. I feel like this added expense was necessary to ensure cohesiveness in the work we were doing, in spite of how it may have impacted out budget.
While we had several original doors upstairs, many new doors of varying quality and styles had been installed during various renovation projects over the years. Rather than live with them, we've slowly located matching four panel doors to our home's originals in salvage yards and from the garbage piles of job sites. We're nothing if not resourceful.
We've been able to use these doors to replace existing incorrect doors, or to use in our new projects, such as our master bedroom closet. It hasn't been easy, but it's one of those little things that add up to something big in the overall character of our home.
As much as it's my focus, It's not just interior architectural items that define an old home, but also the exterior details. From subtle to substantial, they all play a role in the old home recipe.
One of our most significant efforts came when we had our brick front stairs replaced with salvaged and custom cast iron stairs indicative of our home's era.
This effort transformed the facade of our simple home, re-adding an embellishment that had been lost long ago.
As major of a statement as the stairs were, stripping the paint from above our windows to reveal hidden patterned scroll work made equally as significant of an impact at a minuscule fraction of the cost.
These details had been lost through sloppy paint jobs and simply required a little time and effort to bring them back to life.
Speaking of transoms, doors, and entry details, the level of effort we put into our entry vestibule was more than a year from start to finish, but is one of the single most fulfilling aspects of restoration in our home.
From the gold leaf numbers in our entry transom...
...to the salvaged side lites turned French doors with salvaged wavy glass, cast iron rim lock, and antique slide bolt...
...to the salvaged interior door with period mail slot, weather stripping, hinges, and hardware...
...we've turned a reconfigured space at the front of our home into something more akin to what would have been when it was built over 125 years ago.
Though the list of our DIY home modifications goes well beyond what I've outlined above, and we're doing our best to mix modern conveniences, I feel we've gone to great lengths to restore the "old home" badge of honor to our home's identity. We have a long way to go before we're done, but I feel a tremendous sense of pride about what we've been able to accomplish in our home over the years. It's a modest home for certain, but one that can stand proudly among the houses with history in our neighborhood.
