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Renovation journal: A couple remakes a historic Plano home
Writer chronicles down-and-dirty details of old-home renovation01:46 PM CST on Friday, February 15, 2008
Melissa and Alvie O'Neal had never wanted to remodel. "We're not your typical old-house owners. We have trouble changing the batteries in our smoke detector," says Ms. O'Neal, 57.
Yet somehow the two, who resided happily in a brand-new north Plano subdivision, plunged headfirst into restoring a condemned Victorian house in Plano's Historic District – a home so overrun with overgrown shrubs that it was barely visible from the street.
During the transformation, Ms. O'Neal rose to the occasion with insight and a sense of humor and recorded the renovation. Her archives of the ongoing process, In the Deep End Without my Floaties: The Chronicles of a House Restoration, took top honors at the Writers' League of Texas Agents and Editors Conference in Austin this summer.
Ms. O'Neal's journal-style compilation of frustrations, realities and roadblocks will hit home with anyone who has ever remodeled, a little or a lot. "People ask, 'Why did you do it?' " she says, "and I have not come up with an answer yet."
One phone call from a near-stranger, and our life plans make a 90-degree turn.
Last week, my husband, Alvie, and I contacted a real estate agent to find a single-story house on a treed lot backing either a creek or a golf course. Easy enough. The agent gave us a list of 14 properties to drive by. ... Three of the houses were on white-gravel country roads in the middle of nowhere. We certainly don't require an in-town location, but the middle of nowhere is too far from firefighters, doctors and pizza delivery. Two houses backed up to concrete drainage ditches. "Drainage ditch" must be a synonym for "creek" in Realtor-ese.
The O'Neals returned home to find a phone message from Pam Hatcher, president of the Haggard Park Heritage District Homeowners Association and an outspoken proponent for the preservation of the downtown area. Although Ms. O'Neal once had been introduced to Ms. Hatcher at a Plano City Council meeting, the couple had no idea why she would be phoning now.
When I returned her call, Pam didn't waste time on the pleasantries. Are we interested in living near downtown? I was taken aback. How astonishing that she called on this day. Had she called any sooner, I would have said we wanted a newish, low-maintenance house, not a money pit in a heritage district.
Later that day, the three drive by the city-condemned, soon-to-be- for-sale Schimelpfenig-Dudley House at 906 17th St.
Ancient cedar trees, out-of-control nandina and two-story-tall privet hedges hid all but the tiniest peek of the front gable. ... Alvie walked far enough along what had been a gravel driveway to see that the house is entirely too small for us, and it's not at all the impressive gingerbread- trimmed house the word "Victorian" conjures. He also discovered a sidewalk of old brick fired by a company in his hometown. That evening, he made of list of questions about restoration and how to start the process of buying a condemned property. Alvie has wanted to live on a golf course for so many years. That he has restoration questions is amazing. After all these years of caution, we may become midlife risk-takers.
Pam gave me the name and phone number of the restoration specialist (Neely Plumb – isn't that a wonderful name?) of Norman Alston Architects, who is working with the city on other old houses and is interested in doing the Dudley House.
Spent nearly an hour on the phone with Neely Plumb. When he completes a project, he likes the house to look as though it's a well-maintained old home, not a newly restored old home.
A turn-of-the-century addition is beyond saving: the kitchen, back porch and the "falling-in" room, so called because the roof and ceiling were falling in and people had fallen through the floor, including the property standards inspector.
Checked out seven library books on late-Victorian architecture and old-house restoration. The best, A Field Guide to American Houses [by Dallasites Virginia and Lee McAlester], is full of information even the novice can understand.
Because the house has been condemned by the city, its tax value dropped from $27,854 to zero. The only confusing information: The tax records say the house was built in 1928. We thought it was significantly earlier than that. Alvie says it's not as much fun now that the house is newer than my mother.
During the next few weeks, the O'Neals learn a bit more about the house's history – that the 1 ½ story folk Victorian was built in 1893, not 1928, contrary to what tax records indicated; that Will Schimelpfenig was probably the original owner; and that historic-district design guidelines will dictate many of their decisions. They view copies of photos the property-standards department used in the condemnation process, revealing that the interior is worse than it appeared through the windows. A few days later, the O'Neals trek to Waxahachie for the Gingerbread Trail tour of historic homes, the goal being to see examples of what they wanted to achieve, and avoid.
Alvie and I browsed for five hours at the Great Indoors.
Alvie hit the Internet to see what's out there under folk Victorian. Not much. Well, nothing, really.
Prior to the walk-through, the O'Neals meet former owner Dan "D.D." Dudley (now 80 and living nearby with a caregiver).
Pots and pans on the 1960s electric range are empty. I'm afraid they weren't when they were left on the stove by the last cook. ... Old jars and coffee cans are stacked on the linoleum floor. The products are in packaging that companies discontinued decades before I started buying groceries. ... It appears that most of the furnishings are, and always have been, junk. Some will be of interest to collectors of, say, ballpoint pens. ... [Alvie and I] can't afford a museum-quality restoration, but we want to respect the integrity of the house both inside and out, not create a Disney-esque version of Victorian.
The O'Neals survive the walk-through and, after a surprise end run by another party, make a final offer, all negotiated via phone during a 20-minute ride home.
We close tomorrow. This is the first financially irresponsible thing Alvie and I have ever done. ... Even though we're restoration neophytes, we're going into this with our eyes wide open.
Meanwhile, the massive cleanup and excavation ensues, yielding a few unearthed treasures – an Eastlake mantel leaning against the parlor wall, some WWII propaganda – and many, many trips to the dump and the First Methodist recycling bin.
Prehistoric insects live under the grape arbor. We'll probably rescue enough brick to do the family room fireplace and chimney.
Eight more hours of bricks.
Not much of a break in the action for Christmas or the welcoming of the new year, but there's a sad intermission in the journaling, as Ms. O'Neal's mother became ill and passed away in early February.
NOTE THIS DATE. Work has begun. Salvage took only one day. Almost everything in the part to be demolished [the rear addition] wasn't intact enough to save.
Demolition day. Alvie arrived at the house about 11 a.m. to check on progress. He enjoyed the demolition so much he stayed the rest of the day. I think he liked the noise of the heavy machinery, the crashing of the rotted lumber as it landed on piles of rubbish, the whole macho aura of destruction.
Yesterday was our 33rd wedding anniversary. A new house is plenty of anniversary gift. Any more gift and it might kill me.
Progress is being made, despite weather delays. By June, the Great Indoors is becoming Ms. O'Neal's second home. With every step forward, though, comes another snag – the insulation fails to pass inspection, resulting in a stop-work order, and the original front-porch posts are too bulky and not tall enough, now that the house is level.
I may have just jumped into the deep end without my floaties.
The O'Neals' former house sells, and the two relocate temporarily to a small apartment.
Took Alvie to see the amazing selection at Art Glass Gallery. That guy's garage is a dangerous wonderland of sharp-edged color. We selected an opaque glass that should work quite well in all five old doors.
New completion date: Jan. 8, 2003. This is, what, the sixth, seventh, completion date? I've lost count.
When we took a load of things from the apartment to the house, I was surprised no trumpets sounded as we unlocked the door and walked in.
Even with the problems still to be addressed with the builder, I'm content here. If our family activities so far are an indicator, we'll eat hundreds of suppers on the porch, play thousands of games in the reading room upstairs and make millions of happy memories here. We are home.
The Plano City Council approved the O'Neals' application for Individual Heritage Resource Designation. A Plano Conservancy member complimented the couple, saying they could have been granted the designation simply because they had taken the house "from ruins to ravishing."
Nancy Myers is a Dallas freelancer.
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