Civil Engineering Reference
In-Depth Information
mortared. But that could be as much a factor of
penury as of age.
We found a chestnut cabin five miles away that
was vacated in 1871, the date the present farmhouse
was built. This cabin was one-and-a-half stories, with
double-hung six-over-six windows, and a stone chim-
ney. And it was 18 by 28 feet. So that was actually a
replacement, not a restoration. Really, it was a restora-
tion of the number two cabin on the number one site.
Some challenges I don't want. For example, there
was a Depression-era, second-growth pine clubhouse
thrown up on a lake, with no foundation at all — the
logs on the ground uphill and on loose stones down-
hill. Over the years, subsequent owners had dug out
the rotten and termite-infested lower logs and pushed
in mortar. They'd propped up the sagging floor joists
on stones and bricks, and termites had a highway up
to wood. They'd built flower boxes and a flagstone
patio up against the log walls that held moisture
against the wood. But it looked charming in its setting
of big beeches at the end of an inviting road. It ranks
as the worst job we ever undertook.
Another repair or restoration challenge I decline is
any work on a log house kit. Repairs to sapwood pole
houses are another breed of cat. I have even been
asked to be an expert witness in suits against kit man-
ufacturers and franchise builders to assess the caliber
of the material used for these modern trips into nos-
talgia. Enough said.
Old flooring is often an asset in restoring or recycling a historic
structure and requires careful removal in order to reuse the material.
Removing heart-pine tongue-in-groove flooring from a house prior to
dismantling it poses challenges to safety. I have one crew member on
each project whose job it is to back nails out of reusable lumber right
away so people won't step on rusty nails. These log joists, flattened
on top, are typical in early cabins.
logs, beams, paneling, and doors. That way everything
is bug-free and works — plumbing, heating, all the
modern stuff that makes living in the house better
than a chore. But everyone thinks, after about a year,
that this is a historic house.
I don't invent histories for my new houses made of
old materials, but I suspect some of their owners do.
It's hard for eyewitnesses to its building to disprove
the origins of a “200-year-old” house.
You must also know that dismantling a complete
house — no matter how small it looks — is no fast,
safe, or easy chore. It is hard, hot work. Stepping on
rusty nails becomes a given. It will — using my favorite
formula — take three times longer than you planned.
And it will cost at least three times more than you bud-
geted by the time you find the house, buy it, hire a crew
or bring in your friends to take it down, find vehicles
numerous enough and large enough to haul those long
logs and beams to your distant site, unload the house
pieces, and find a place to store them until you are
ready to set it up again. Then begins the adventure
and cost and time and effort of the setup. You get the
idea. You'd better be serious, because you are about to
begin a real-life experience.
Warning
The first thing I do for an owner contemplating
restoration is try to determine just how much he or
she really wants this house restored. It must be among
the most vital, driving needs for it to be worth the
money and effort.
There is no way to anticipate all the damage in a
house until everything is stripped away and the house
stands blushing in its pristine nudity. More often than
not, a restoration requires that the house be disman-
tled completely, or at least stripped to bare logs in
order to get to the roots of decay.
It is often cheaper to build new than to do a major
repair job on a log — or any other — house. That is
why we so often build new structures using antique
