WHAT is a historical narrative?
This is a very long post.
You might need to schedule a read when you have some time.
And wine.
This past week, I had conversations with two readers who are also friends.
Each was mad.
At me!
They accused me of just making up “the historical narrative” I frequently write about, and then violating it whenever I please.
Golly. Quite serious charges, indeed. And I thought: Gee, if two readers think this, how many others think the same? Yikes!
Hence, this post.
One such charge:
“You removed the original ceiling lighting in the Receiving Room and installed a pair on 1950s sconces! How is THAT protecting the historical narrative?”
My response:
“I did remove a gas/electric chandelier. But I installed the chandelier. It was not original. It was also, as I learned, not even 1890s but rather 1900s. It also proved too large for the room. And, while I did remove the electrical box I installed in 2015, I did not remove the original gas line. It remains. Somebody way down the road can find it. And the sconces I installed are obviously not from the 1890s so they do not confuse the historical narrative.”
WHAT IS A HISTORICAL NARRATIVE?
This discussion proved to me that the angry reader did not understand what I mean by protecting the historical narrative. When built, the Cross House:
- Was of a specific era: 1894. Houses from 1884 and 1904 are not the same. Think of a house from, say, 1954. It will be instantly recognized as being very different from a house built in 1974.
- The house, too, was budget-specific. While much more expensive (at $18,000) than the vast majority of houses constructed in the 1890s (well under $5,000), it is not mansion grade (like a $125,000 granite mansion in, say, St. Louis). I think of the house as a modest grand house.
So, if I fill the house with furniture from the 1870s, 1880s, and 1920s, this would dilute the historical narrative. Furniture from the 1890s does not look like furniture from other decades. As is true for all furniture. And I have delighted in the challenge of only buying period-correct antiques for the house. And when I have not (such as the 1950s Hollywood-Regency dresser in the Long Bedroom) the historical narrative is protected because nobody will look at the dresser and think it is from the 1890s. It is far enough removed from the 1890s to not read as from that era.
The antiques I have chosen have also been budget-correct for the house. I often see people buying a modest historic home, like something which cost $5,000 when built in the 1910s, and filling it with mansion-grade antiques, and papering with wildly expensive Bradbury wallpapers intended for an 1880s mansion.
Protecting the historical narrative does not mean that I have to slavishly recreate everything as it was in 1894. The house would be unlivable, IMO.
Moreover, had I installed 1890s gas/electric sconces in the Receiving Room, that would have confused the historical narrative. Because people would assume they were original.
The same reader was angry that, even though I know the ceiling in the two-story stair hall had a gas/electric lighting fixture, I have no plans to install such a fixture in that location. Rather, I plan to install the same 1970s pendants I have hanging in a row in the library. I plan two parallel rows of eight fixtures per row, with each fixture hanging at a different height. The effect will be highly dramatic and will look like falling rain. Albeit with very large raindrops.
“But that will screw with the historical narrative. You know the stairwell never had such fixtures! And you refuse to install what was there!”
Again though, no one will think eighteen 1970s fixtures are original to the house. Thus, the historical narrative will be protected. And, while I do know What Was There, that is all I know. I have no clue as to what the fixture would have looked like, its scale (2-arms? 4? 6?), nor its height. All this would be guesswork.
And these were just some of the accusations hurled upon my innocent self!
A GUIDELINE
Protecting the historical narrative is not a rule but a guideline to help with the process of restoring the Cross House. And, on occasion, I violate this self-imposed guideline.
Like in the parlor. I knew it had a gas/electric chandelier. And, a gas/electric chandelier now hangs in the parlor, one which is both period-correct and budget-correct. I also love it.
When people tour the house they inevitably ask: “Is the chandelier original?” They never ask this about the five 1970s pendants hanging in the library. I explain: “No. It’s from eBay.” This always surprises people.
So, I did the very thing one angry reader expects, but it creates the very confusion I am loath to avoid.
What is life without the occasional conundrum?
I am planning to order a period-correct soapstone sink for the kitchen. And this will break with my guideline for everybody will assume it is original.
What is life without the occasional conundrum?
The marble vanity now in the 1894 second-floor bathroom was found on Craig’s List. Everybody will assume it is original. I plan to install a 34-inch-wide marble vanity in the main-floor powder room as the ghost outline on the extant white quartz wainscoting confirms the former existence of such a vanity. Everybody will assume it is original.
What is life without the occasional conundrum?
So, while I am doing the very thing I seek to avoid, protecting the historical narrative has, for me, been a valuable guideline. And even when I violate my own guideline (see above) there is consistent pattern to these violations: what I installed could have been there.
With the parlor chandelier:
- It is period-correct.
- It is a combination gas/electric fixture, as the house had in 1894.
- It is NOT a gas chandelier. It is NOT an electric fixture.
- It is also budget appropriate to the house, being neither too plain, nor mansion-grade opulent.
- It could have been in the room in 1894.
Regarding the marble vanity in the 1894 bathroom:
- It is period-correct.
- It is a marble which well complements the original porcelain geometric tile floor.
- It matches the marble radiator tops.
- It could have been in the room in 1894.
Regarding a soapstone sink:
- It is period correct.
- It is not, say, porcelain on cast-iron. I could install such a sink and everybody would think it was original. But such sinks start showing up around 1915, two decades after the house was built.
- It will be, as evidence indicates, in the original sink location.
- It could have been in the room in 1894.
You see the pattern? It is consistent: What I installed could have been in the house in 1894. These items are not from, say, the 1870s or the 1920s. Even though most people would not know the difference between a 1890s kitchen sink and a 1920s kitchen sink, I would know.
OH! ANOTHER GUIDELINE!
While these items do not protect the historical narrative, they certainly support it. In short, I actually have two side-by-side guidelines:
- Whenever possible, protect the historical narrative.
- When this is not possible, support the historical narrative.
So, imagine, if you will, that I installed an avocado green porcelain cast-iron kitchen sink? Nobody would think it was original as it would scream 1970s. Thus…the historical narrative would be protected. And I would be fine with such a sink. But I will not, for the reasons outlined, install a 1920s porcelain cast-iron sink. This is why I am installing 1950s and 1970s lighting in the house. At a glance people recognize that these lights are not 1890s. The same would not be true if I was installing 1920s lighting. “Are these lights original?” The 1920s are too close to the 1890s for most people to appreciate that the decades are quite different, style-wise.
CONFUSING THE NARRATIVE
All the time I see people messing with the visual historical narrative of their old house. Like, rather then re-install lost picture rail (as I will be doing throughout my house), they install crown molding. “I love crown molding!” They install 1870s-style ceiling medallions in houses built decades later, and well after medallions went out of fashion. “I love ceiling medallions!” Rather than ascertaining what the original exterior colors were, they paint using their favorite colors. “I love blue!”
And all this is fine. It is their house.
At the Cross House though I have created a more rigorous process. And I believe the end results will justify the process.
Protecting/supporting the historical narrative forces me to think. Instead of just doing what I like, or have done many time previously, I have to instead press pause, learn about the house and era, look for evidence (like finding the ghost outlines of the lost picture rail), and so on. I find all this powerfully interesting and satisfying, and I believe that the end results are also more interesting, and more appealing.
A few years ago I ordered very sleek floor registers for the parlor. A lot of readers HATED them. “Why didn’t you order Victorian-style registers?”
Because the house did not have central AC in 1894. Nor did it have heating ducts. It had eight coal-during fireplaces (extant) and radiators (extant). By installing Victorian-style floor registers the historical narrative would be confused as everybody would assume they were original, and that the house had a duct system in 1894. But nobody will think my elegant and sleek registers are original. I smile very time I look at them.
Ditto for my wall switches. In 1894 the house did not have a single electrical outlet, and had only two wall switches. Today, the house has many many many dozens of wall switches. I plan to install hyper-sleek Lutron switches with a vertical LED strip in the middle.
This horrified many of you. “Why aren’t you installing push-button-style switches?”
Because everybody would assume they were original when they actually date to decades after the Cross House was built.
The house retains two 1929 bathrooms. Each was done on the cheap, and readers have suggested I redo them to mimic the two 1894 bathrooms. This though would highly confuse the historical narrative as the 1929 bathrooms were not bathrooms in 1894. They were closets. If my approach was THE HOUSE MUST BE EXACTLY AS IT WAS IN 1894, I would recreate the lost closets.
This, though, would be madness. Having every bedroom in the house with an en-suite bathroom is a treasure. So, my plan is to upgrade the bathrooms, and in a style clearly of today. In 2080, people will walk into the bathrooms and go: Oh! These are soooooo 2020s! And I am fine with that as the historical narrative will be obvious.
I am in the process of transforming the servant’s room in the SE corner, second-floor, into a spa-style master bathroom. The room has been through a lot during the last century-plus but it was never a bathroom. As such, my goal is to make it obvious that the room will read as 2020s. Nobody will walk into the finished bath and think it is an 1890s bathroom.
The bathroom adjacent to the Sewing Room is original. Or, partially so:
- The porcelain geometric tile floor is original but in poor condition. I plan to restore it and have new tiles custom made to infill areas of missing tiles.
- Evidence and photographs prove that the room originally had very tall wood wainscoting which matched the extant wainscoting in the kitchen. I plan to exactly match this and recreate the lost wainscoting.
- The room almost certainly had a marble vanity. A few years ago, as mentioned, an ideal marble vanity was discovered on Craig’s List and is now in the room. While not original it is period-correct (and budget-correct) and could have been in the room in 1894.
- However, rather than install the vanity in its presumed original location on the north wall, I have moved it to the south wall so it can be adjacent to a window.
- The toilet I plan to install dates from 1927 and has been in the house since 1929. People though will assume it is original and this will be one of those imperfect choices.
- The toilet location, now moved to the south wall, is also not original. In 1894 the toilet had its own room adjacent to the bathroom. I could recreate this but that will mean that the lost dumbwaiter cannot reach the second-floor, as I plan. It did not in 1894 for reasons which seem insane. WHY have a dumbwaiter that does not access the main floors of a house?
- The tub is proving a real problem. A fully restored 1890s tub will be like $9,000 so that is soooooo not going to happen. I could install an inexpensive 1920s cast-iron tub and surround its front with the same wainscoting, thus creating an 1890s look. But this is exactly what I try to avoid. My solution, thus, might be a clearly modern shower.
- There is no evidence as to the 1894 lighting. There was likely a pair of gas/electric sconces to each side of the vanity mirror as was common. There may have been a small ceiling gas/electric fixture. And this is what I plan to install, but with two small square LED can lights in the ceiling over the vanity to offer modern lighting levels.
This one room will be a testament to the endless mind-bending decisions every house restorer must undertake. The room has not been in fully original condition since at least 1929. Today, it is a gutted shell and most of the evidence supporting how things were in 1894 has been lost as a result. For various other reasons it cannot BE restored to its 1894 layout. So, the finished room will be a mix of original, careful recreations of original, and frankly modern. But, almost every choice will protect/support the historical narrative of the house:
- The original floor will be protected.
- The lost wainscoting will be meticulously recreated, supporting the 1894 historical narrative.
- The lighting and vanity will support the 1894 historical narrative.
- The shower will also support the historical narrative as it will be clearly modern. There will be no confusion as to its age. It will become part of the long historical narrative of the house.
- The toilet…well, umm, again an imperfect solution.
ERODING THE NARRATIVE
All houses have a historical narrative. All houses reflect the era in which they are built.
Like late 1930s and early 1940s Moderne houses. They are rare. And I have a passion for these style houses.
In finding such a house on the market though, I have only once found that the original aesthetic narrative was maintained. Moderne houses have a highly distinctive look, redolent of a brief period in history. Yet, when this style house comes on the market I see them filled with Art Deco furnishings (which pre-date the Moderne style) and/or Atomic Age furnishings (which post-date the Moderne style). All these choices erode rather than enhance the historic visual narrative of Moderne houses.
In 2017, I did a post about an INCREDIBLE Moderne house which was basically destroyed by new owners. They stated that they loved the house. “We didn’t want to mess with it.” Yet, they messed with every inch, utterly ruining the unique period qualities of the house.
Today, the house looks like any new hipster house. What was special about the house was thrown into a dumpster. Had I purchased the house my every decision would have been guided by my two-prong approach:
- Whenever possible, protect the historical narrative.
- When this is not possible, support the historical narrative.
And the results would not only have been vastly different, but wondrous. An amazing house would still be amazing.
WHEN MOVIES GET IT RIGHT
In 2020, the movie Far from Heaven was released, a Todd Haynes production.
The movie is set in 1957. People think of this era as being filled with Sputnik chandeliers and really hip furniture. But Sputnik chandeliers did not come on the market until after 1957. And most people in the 1950s actually purchased rather traditionally-styled furnishings. My late 1950s lighting catalogs offer, yes, very modern fixtures but the pages are also filled with “Colonial” style fixtures. (Confusing note: in the early 1950s, Lightolier introduced an “Astral” chandelier which looks exactly like a Sputnik chandelier. It was expensive and found few buyers. It was also simply too wild-looking for most consumers. All this changed after the actual Sputnik satellite was launched at the end of 1957, and after inexpensive “Sputnik” chandeliers flooded the market.)
When I first saw the movie, I was thrilled that the set decorator paid enormous attention to the historical narrative. Everything I viewed was spot-on for 1957.
Note the Colonial-style staircase, the traditional crystal chandelier, the gilded mirror on the far wall, and so on. All this could be from the 1920s or the 1820s. But, the furnishings time-stamp the interior to the late 1950s, even though there is nary a Sputnik chandelier in sight. Yet, I have never seen anybody, when decorating a home from this era, create this artful blend of 1950s furnishings and traditional-styled furnishings, even though such an approach was common to the era, as evidenced by period decorating magazines.
LET HISTORY BE A GUIDE
When I purchased the Cross House in 2014, I had little knowledge of what an 1890s house was. Had I the money at the time, I would have installed either a new sleek kitchen or a 1920s-style kitchen. Why? Because I has zero idea of what an 1890s kitchen looked like. A lack of funds though prevented this outcome and during the ensuing years I researched and learned. Recently, I posted my new & improved kitchen plan and I am profoundly proud of the design. Rather than impose a kitchen which would fight with the historical narrative of the house, the finished kitchen will be the only instance I know of where an 1890s kitchen was, largely, recreated:
- The original flooring was a narrow maple. I will soon be installing a match to this, thus protecting the historical narrative.
- I know the locations of the original gas/electric fixtures and will be re-installing such fixtures, thus supporting the historical narrative.
- These fixtures will be appropriate to an 1890s kitchen, very plain, and not fancy parlor-style fixtures. Even the glass shades will be appropriate to a kitchen in being plain. These decisions will support the historical narrative.
- I had the plaster walls and wood in the kitchen analyzed. The walls and ceiling were originally a glossy cream kinda color, and all the wood was orange shellac over plain pine. I will be recreating these finishes, thus protecting the historical narrative.
- The new sink will replicate a period-correct sink, thus supporting the historical narrative.
- The new sink will be in the likely original location, thus protecting the historical narrative.
- The room will not be wallpapered as this was unthinkable in the 1890s, thus protecting the historical narrative.
- The room will have no picture rail nor crown moulding, as each was also just not done in the 1890s, thus protecting the historical narrative.
- And…squee!!!!!!!!…the lost annunciator system will be recreated, along with the lost dumbwaiter, lost laundry chute, and lost speaking tube. All protecting the historical narrative.
- A vital aspect of the new plan—vital!—is that there will be frankly modern aspects of the kitchen such as modern stainless-steel appliances. But these will read as new and, thus, not confuse the historical narrative.
- Most importantly, the kitchen will be an island-style kitchen (as all kitchens were in the 1890s). There will no built-in cabinets hugging all the walls as everybody does today when building a “period” kitchen. And which nobody did in the 1890s. This vital plan will protect the historical narrative.
My kitchen plan has been wholly informed by my desire to protect/support the historical narrative of the Cross House. This forced the abandonment of entrenched ideas about kitchens (based on what I have always known: fitted kitchens)) and created an opening for a totally new way of seeing.
CONCLUSION
In the end, talking with the two angry readers revealed something interesting. It proved that they were not actually mad at what I was doing. No. What they were mad at is: I was not doing what they would do.
This realization greatly surprised at least one of them.
NOTES:
I reserve the right to do whatever I want in my house. I grant you the same right.
That said…I view my ownership of the Cross House as a temporary stewardship. I also think it is vital that I cause no damage to the house (like when I removed a portion of the cabinets in the butler’s pantry. Of course, I carefully saved the cabinets. Later, realizing the error of my thinking, I reinstated the cabinets. Whew!).
A good steward would never, for example, paint all their glorious woodwork white. “I like white!” While this can be reversed it is a massive job and I have passed on many houses due to all the wood being painted white.
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Ross, I can completely understand where your readers and yourself are coming from. You will find that “most” of us readers out here that adore and envy historical architecture such as yours loathe 1950’s through 1970’s design estetics, partially due to this very generation of people are mostly responsible for the almost utter destruction of anything not modern and new, and also the simplistic designs are just……….well………..(opinion), UGLY! eeks, sorry! But you know what I say, thank god for you Ross and any other person out there willing to save our heritage with hard work and determination and to hang what the hell ever you want in that house. The next person that comes along will hang what the hell ever they want. Who cares. I personally cant wait to see the house in person will be happy as sheet in a sheet house to see all the design choices youve made. And thats just it, they are design choices, not structural or historical in nature AT ALL. Ross, let the natives be restless and be happy and content with what you want the overall nature of design to look and feel like. WOOHOO! :-).
“most” of us readers out here that adore and envy historical architecture such as yours loathe 1950’s through 1970’s design estetics
Watching Brett Waterman “Restore” (as in the show of same name) some 1950s houses lately, has made me reconsider my instinctive loathing for them. Not completely demolish the loathing, but reconsider it! [Also forcing me to reconsider about it: is it just that “familiarity breeds contempt” (having grown up in a 1950s California Ranch)? Or I am sensing my own mortality—“Gadzooks, the almost-new house I grew up in is now a ‘Classic’, verging on ‘Antique’—what does that say about ME?!” LOL]
Ommmph…the term “Restore” is interesting.
I grew up in a town that Brett Waterman seems to love “restoring”. Which is great is some ways, but I would not say historically-correct in all aspects. It’s neat that they look into the history of the house, and get experts to replace lost elements, or explain elements. But to say they are retored to their original glory and period-correct structure…no.
Nor would I say they are finished well, definitely NOT as they appear on TV. I toured one of the craftsman bungalows; it was sad what was taken out, what was not repaired. It was like some one looked at the history of the house and took a BIG ole poop on it. I hated it. But, not my house; maybe the homeowners loved it.
To each their own.
I grew up in, I guess, a 1955 ranch in SoCal as well. However, it was custom-built on a budget for 2 family members in wheelchairs, so it kinda does its own thing!
I don’t mind the 50s era. I own an early 70s era and didn’t like any of the glaring 70s features (original stove/oven were quickly removed along with gold-vein mirror tiles).
To each our own. Someone else may love that.
I love old houses, history, and the whys and hows things were done/built. To me there isn’t a lot in my house to preserve so it’s my blank slate.
LS, before buying the Cross House, I spent two years looking at houses. One captured my special attention, and it stunned all my friends. “You’re thinking about buying THAT?”
That was a late 1970s ranch-style house. It had, seemingly, not a single redeeming feature. But, it was huge (meaning large enough for me and my office needs). It had a full basement and a DRY basement (vital for my lighting storage needs). It was boring, yes, but in excellent condition. And it was a steal.
I particularly liked that it had an anonymous personality and that I could kinda do whatever I wanted with it.
It was, of course, the total opposite of the Cross House!
Dearest Ross! I love that the Cross House is lovingly being restored, and you are decorating as well as guiding the restoration of the house—as you wish!! Very refreshing! No one would have painstakingly recreated pieces of the original that were lost! This house has survived because of the varied eras and you are painstakingly restoring according to the Cross House historical narrative! Neither of the 2 readers/“friends” would have recreated what you have amazingly and perfectly done. I think the rest of us respect your choices and do not think the way that they do. They are the exceptions. Ridiculous that they have the audacity to insult you in this way. They are entitled to their opinions and you are right— they don’t like your choice because they would not wish to put those choices in place. It is your right and always your choice. The blog is about what you wish to do and write about l whether we agree or not is immaterial. It is your blog and your arena— hence your show! Keep true to yourself! Bravo Ross!
I would amend my comment “insulting,” as I applaud your friends for being honest. They are good friends and they just don’t agree with you. Bravo for being true to self and appreciating contrasting opinions.
Agreed, Sandra!
I like honest friends. Even when they disagree with me!
Ross, great post on historical narrative, protection vs. support! I never would have thought of it that way. That said, I would only add that so many houses get ‘updates’ along the way and rarely get to the age of Cross House without those 1910, 1920, etc. makeovers… and I don’t think honoring what previous generations have done is necessarily across-the-board awful. Yes, we undid ‘a whole lotta’ 1950s horror that was done to our 1889 farmhouse (sheetrock over floor-to-ceiling beadboard – WHAT were they thinking???) but we kept the 1950s porcelain on cast iron sink because it looked ‘right’ in the kitchen to our eyes, and we could never have afforded something period correct. Also, I would have no problem with sticking some 1880’s (or earlier) furniture in an 1894 house unless it was built as a mansion – people inherit things from relatives, and even back then, they may have come to a new house with older furniture. Not saying that the original Cross House occupants would’ve… since they were probably better off than the rest… but common folk like my family would have. The example you’re setting with Cross House is one to aspire to… but so many of us would never be able to achieve what you have. I hate to see houses modernized completely (the Zillow pics of my old place 2 owners on made me cry) but it’s better than the alternative that happens to so many of these old treasures.
Beth, I did a blog post way back on a circa-1900 house which had a fabulous 1950s kitchen.
I loved the kitchen and would have treasured it. It WAS a part of the historical narrative, and nobody would have confused it for a 1900 kitchen. New owners, sigh, tore it out. Sigh.
So, yes, keep your 1950s sink!
Oooh – just had to read that entire post, along with its subsequent update. I could spend a lot of time going all the way back to the beginning of your blog… it’s so addictive! That house is, as you described it, delicious! I hope, other than the kitchen remuddle, it’s been treated well since your posts.
We sold our 1889 farmhouse in 2000, and I still keep an eye on it. It does look like the people who modernized the kitchen still managed to keep the ’50s sink. And while they added lower cabinets and countertops (which I will admit were sorely lacking for the 20 years we lived there… but I’m no cook), they didn’t stick upper cabinets on the walls. That would have been a way too modern look for the house. They added open shelving. Still, somehow it manages to come off looking (to me) very modern. It’s just not “my” kitchen anymore.
Funny thing, though – they kept my jelly cabinet, and moved it out of the kitchen (where I used it for storage) into the diningroom! So that’s two owners that kept it past us… I really should’ve taken it with us when we moved, but we didn’t have room for it in our new house. It had old red paint and was so traditional looking, but now it’s blue. Doesn’t matter. I would have recognized it anywhere… bought at Stormville Flea Market!
My grandparents owned a home from 1934 until my grandfather passed in 1999. Long story short, at one point I was to inherit it but due to family dysfunction, that did not happen. It was sold. I saw photos of it on Zillow and I cried, and still cry when I think about it. The oak floors were covered with vinyl planks, walls were removed, curved archways removed, fireplaces with gorgeous mantels were removed, built in Japanese birch china hut was ripped out, built in linen storage (shelves and drawers) in the upstairs hall were removed. The beautiful Japanese birch woodwork was painted. Plaster walls were demolished and replaced with drywall. Shutters were installed instead of drapes. It made me ill.
I’d weep over the loss of the built in linen storage. Man I would kill for that! It’s one of my favorite things ever.
Miriam, your post could have been written about me. My maternal grandparents built their home in 1958, and growing up in the 70s, it was my favorite place on earth. 90% of the love, encouragement, and guidance I received as a kid came from them. My grandfather died in 1985, and my grandmother in 2010 at the age of 96. The house still looked like a late 50s time capsule; I wanted to buy it as a weekend (and possibly a retirement) home, but while I was arranging financing, my greedy father insisted that my mother take a cash offer from someone outside the family, just to spite me. Just as in your case, the young couple immediately gutted the house. They became friends with my adult son who insisted that I should come and see what they had done, but I didn’t; in my mind it still looks the same, and I don’t want to see anything that might cloud those memories.
Mike, it is heartbreaking. In my case, my grandmother really wanted the house to stay in the family, as a retreat from the world for everyone. Which is what it would have been if not for my mother’s inability to recognize my grandfather’s dementia/ psychosis. Instead, I was blamed for things that never happened, was written out of the will, a caretaker had to be hired, and a reverse mortgage put on the house to pay for said caretaker (I had been living in the house, caring for my grandfather, even though I was paying rent for an apartment the entire time since I could not get out of my lease.) So when he passed, the house had to be sold at market value to pay off the reverse mortgage. There was no way I could, as a single parent, afford to buy it. I have visions of my grandmother haunting everyone who lives in the house, since she wanted family in it. It just makes me so sad. I did, a decade later, buy a Victorian house in a rural community, for myself that I love. But it isn’t the same thing as caring for the family home. It is just sad when greed or other emotions interfere with keeping homes in the family.
I’m so sad for u. I was blessed when my parents passed (w/in 1 1/2 mos of each other). I had my own home a few houses away and would’ve loved to have lived in their house, but I knew I couldn’t as it was too big for me, and we could get more for their house then mine. My sibs, nieces & nephews, and I went thru the house and marked what we wanted; if more than 1 wanted something, they had to work it out. Not a cross word was ever spoken. I m so blessed. My heart goes out to u. 🙂
(See my comment to Miriam – works for your situation, too. So Sorry. 🙂
I agree. When I did my 1909 cottage from top to bottom, literally, I went with ‘what looks right with the house’ as well as ‘what can I live with.’ So I ripped out the metal sink cabinet (I know lots of people love them) but kept the porcelain sink with built-in drainboard. I kept the 1920s enclosures of the porches (it was a very small house even with them). I kept the original kitchen cabinets but put in a tile floor that looked like slate (for practicality) – although if I had to do it over, I’d put wood in both the kitchen and breakfast nook. I gutted the 1970s bathroom and put in a vintage clawfoot tub and repro toilet and pedestal sink and wooden wainscotting (I have no idea what was there originally). I did not put in a toilet with a tank high on the wall even though the gutting revealed that was there to begin with. The furniture was a mix of some true antiques (before the house was built) and fairly classic new stuff. I threw out three aluminum windows and replaced them with wood. I added built-ins in the dining room. The only things I would change now are the kitchen floor and the dining room light fixture. But when I was done, the house looked right.
👏👏👏👏
I get what you mean by protecting/preserving
/supporting the historical narrative of the house and when that isn’t possible, you make choices that make it clear something isn’t original to the house or era it was built. I Like that! Do I like all the choices you make? No, but you probably wouldn’t agree with all the choices I make in my home. But I applaud you recreating, preserving, researching and protecting the history of the Cross House. Cross house was bulit in 1894, but it wasn’t in a time capsule. It evolves with time too, which is where adding elements from the 50s, 70s or 2020s makes sense to me.
Ultimately, it’s your house, we are all just lucky enough that you write and share about your journey to restore the Cross House. And I think I nearly cried when I read the post about removing part of the butler’s pantry. I was overjoyed when you reversed your change. Would I be able to do what you do, probably not. I love reading about new discoveries you have made and new pieces found to replace what was. Its incredibly interesting!
Thank you for preserving not only the Cross house, but your journey in preserving it.
Ross, Don’t EVER let anyone question what you are doing with the Cross House. I’m truly amazed every time I see your blogs but especially when I go by and see the unbelievable job you are doing. Keep up the great work my friend. Do you need a lawn mower this summer??????
Hi, Lindy!
I am fine being questioned! I love a good debate!
And I am always in need of lawn mowers!
It is my opinion that this blog is the best historical narrative of any house and property of any out there. You have written in detail about your every decision. You have clearly stated what you thought was original, what you were considering in order to respect the era, and what you decided to do. You have lovingly recounted what you have learned about all eras of the Cross House’s long life. You haven’t stinted on confessing when you believe that you have made a mistake, and then you often have corrected that mistake.
If anyone has a serious interest in the historical narrative, go to the first post in this blog and read every one until you understand what it is saying before commenting.
Well done!
Thank you, Stewart!
I agree fully!
It surprises ans angers me a little that anyone would have anything other than appreciation for the work you are doing Ross. I’m not a subject matter expert but I know a hero when I see one. Generations will enjoy and love your legacy.
Ross my darling, you and I have had disagreements over the years about certain aspects of the Cross House. Yet, in the end, it’s YOUR house and what you have done is what you will live in. I might admire or loath any certain feature, object to your peculiar style, or swoon over long lost details you have revealed. No matter what, this house is a treasure trove of peculiarities and no one could have marked the house more beautifully than you. I admire your persistence, your meticulous research, and your dogged determination to do what you do best. Delight in your home, and may you ever find new curiosities to research, more hidden treasures to puzzle over, and more ways to enchant your readers!
Oh…I still am waiting to find out about the results of a metal detecting survey of the grounds. But that’s just me.
Dodi!
Just the other day, I was talking about getting a metal detecting survey of the grounds!
This is such a fascinating topic. Thank you for once again taking the time to explain your philosophy. It makes so much sense, and I get it! I’ve learned soooo much from reading your blog and part of the fun is thinking, “what would I do?” It is YOUR house though, and so I’m just grateful that you even have this blog. Just a few observations… (I will TRY to keep it short)
Floor Plan:
This is the one thing that I’m picky about. Yes, I’m the dummy who would rip out those two en-suite bathrooms and return them to closets, but I totally understand why you aren’t doing that.
Fixtures:
This is probably the trickiest issue. I think it’s such a smart idea to go completely modern when you are not going 1894. Just an FYI, though. I’m sure I can’t be the only one who CAN”T tell that those wall sconces are obviously not from the 1890s. Also, I would totally buy one of those really cool stoves that look like they are from the 19th century. (just had to say that!)
Paint & Wallpaper:
Anything goes as far as I’m concerned.
Furniture:
I love, love, love your philosophy on antiques for the house. You SHOULD be picky and not just have a mish-mash of random eras.
Thank you for all you do!
Thank you, Kerri!
I love what you are doing with the house and I love the posts about the process. And, I think the approach you have taken preserves much of the character and flavor of the original house, but made it a contemporary, LIVABLE, house.
I am a short gal. My original kitchen sink is too low for even me! I do not know how people dealt with that, though I suppose they were thrilled to have a faucet in the kitchen instead of a pump-style mechanism either in the kitchen or outside.
My daughter’s 1864 seaside cottage in Santa Cruz was originally one bedroom upstairs, a very small parlor and room of it, super narrow and steep stairs, a porch of some depth and no kitchen (pit toilet in the corner of the garden). The first remodel was probably at the turn of the century and it brought a kitchen and a toilet inside. These two rooms were added on and a second bedroom was created upstairs. Long story short, by the time my daughter inherited the house, it had suffered a 1970’s kitchen, but the porch was enclosed to create a large parlor. We restored the house (actually making it safe–the entire second floor was just resting on the outside walls with a narrow beam across the floor), giving it a foundation and returning the kitchen to how it might have looked in the 1930s. We found a door from the porch into the kitchen and decided to make it the actual entrance to the kitchen, closing off the very low doorway.
Anyway, the house is livable, and we are currently renting it as an AirB&B. Check it out if you want to take a gander: 109 Cypress Ave, Santa Cruz, CA 95062.
Thank you for the informative post. It is so interesting. I think you are marvelous. You have such an intriguing mind the way you study and figure out things. It is a joy when I see a new post in my inbox and feel lucky to be along on the journey. Like others said – it’s your house to do with as you see fit. I love how you detail and give reasonings for what you do – it really opens my eyes and gives me a new perspective and opens my mind to new things. Wishing you only the best and more fun in your journey. Thanks again. 🙂
Laurie, you make my bald head blush!
BIG hug!
I just echo everything you wrote.l, Laurie❣️
Ross, I may fall into the remuddling camp of old-house owners by adding to my house architectural elements from demolished local buildings as my wimsey takes me. I suggest to you, as more of a purist than I, and to your holier-than-thou disputants, that layer on layer from different eras of renovation and restoration is more common and honored in architectural tradition than the fly-in-amber approach that seeks to freeze an old structure to a particular time period. Rather than artificially mooring to an selected era, old buildings live. I see you follow UK blogs–I also watch sites like https://twitter.com/thecountryseat?lang=en where the polymath Matthew Beckett takes one on a tour of the centuries of great UK domestic buildings. One sees phrases like: “Sutton Place is a palimpsest of the taste of successive owners”. I think of Emerson:”A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds…” When you deviate from the strict historical narrative, you do so with a reason, and may I say, with enlightened taste and panache!
Ross, your fascinating vision of Cross House 1894 married to Cross House present will produce a FABULOUS Cross House Future! YOU and YOUR design skills combined with your obvious love and stewardship of this wonderful home could not be in better hands! Thank you for sharing this journey with us, it is such a far cry from the standard renovation and I cannot wait to see your “raindrop” effect of lights, those library lights rock!! How fun and yet such a celebration of time, respect for the old…. yet new AND exciting! a WIN WIN!
While I am loath to edit you, O Master Restorer, would it be accurate to summarize “Either close period (and original, period budget) appropriate, or OBVIOUSLY not period appropriate, but no fudging (with several decades either way) around the edges”?
Todd Haynes is a master of period appropriate *visuals* . . . but I do get knocked out of the period mood in “Carol”, via the music: set in 1952-53, he includes Perry Como’s “Silver Bells” . . . from 1968! Nope, nope, nope.
My (?) late 1980s condo is packed with too many antiques, from all eras: they’re family hand-me-downs which mean too much to me! [Although I do have a bedroom set I’ll be putting on the market, because I just dislike it (it was my parents’, which may play a psychological role, LOL). It’s got candle sconces on the vanity, I’m thinking 1880s?
Hello, JCF!
Yes, your summary is basically correct.
I have not seen Carol. That Haynes could get a song sooooo time-wrong seems out-of-character for him!
Ross, I believe that I understand your philosophy about the historical narrative of your house. You want to do it RIGHT whenever knowledge and budget allow, but you also deserve to live with modern conveniences. You don’t want to confuse anyone who hasn’t done the extensive research that you have. It’s true that I wouldn’t know a 1901 fixture from an 1890s one. I’d be the annoying person who, with good intentions, would ask if it’s original. You’d probably feel bad about telling me that it’s not quite right. In short, you’re harder on yourself than I would be. But please know that you’ve taken on this challenge that we all admire so much. It’s true that I would do things differently, and probably not half as well. It’s also true that you frequently win me over. I’m a fan of your blog for a reason: I admire what you’re doing with your renovation and I’m unabashedly living vicariously through your adventure.
That you, Susan!
I really enjoy my self-imposed guidelines. It’s like playing chess rather than checkers. I’m forced to think more! And I love the challenge!
Dear Ross,
Your post could have been much shorter. You could have said, “it’s my house and I’ll do whatever the hell I want to!” That is a valid argument. But thanks for the explanation. It’s always nice to know the thought processes behind decisions. I happen to love the 50s and 60s decor. To me victorian furniture is uncomfortable and punishing. How could you curl up with a good book on those stiff, hard sofas? That furniture is meant for sitting up properly with a cup of tea in fine porcelain, not wrapped in a fur throw with a mug of coffee and a copy of The Florist’s Daughter. Give me cozy, damn the expectations of the era!!
Good morning, Nancy!
I don’t actually just do whatever I want with the Cross House. All the Heritage Grant exterior work had to comply with strict historical standards. And, inside, I have my self-imposed historical narrative guidelines.
I concur that Victorian-era seating is not especially comfortable, which is one reason I have so little of it. In the parlor, the modern sofa and the two modern chairs are VERY comfortable! After a hard day it’s a delight to plop down into them!
I love this blog but the historical narrative is BS and is divisive. I cringe every time it’s used. Ross does what he wants and that’s fine. Everyone is entitled titled to their opinions. For example I believe Ross tends to generally skews to the 1990’s taste standard. The parlor screams the Christopher Lowell show with stenciling and jewel tones. Remember “you can do it”? Some people are just not equipped to understand this complex narrative you present. I suggest sticking to promoting the much loved baby step method and close the book on this delusion.
Hi, JSS.
I don’t understand why you think the historical narrative is bullshit. I can appreciate that you might not agree with it, and that others may feel the same, but to just dismiss the guiding thought process of my work?
You also wrote that the narrative is too complex for some people to understand. But, the narrative sums up very simply:
1) Whenever possible, protect the historical narrative.
2) When this is not possible, support the historical narrative.
And I enjoyed being accused, basically, of being stuck in the 1990s, with “with stenciling and jewel tones.” I don’t agree (and I had to Google Christopher Lowell), but would understand if you felt I was stuck in the 1890s! You know, when stenciling and jewel tones were popular!
Ross, you’re doing a wonderful job of protecting the Cross House’s history, while making it livable in the 21st century. Doesn’t matter what others think, it’s your house, your rules. I’ll be here, enjoying the trip with you, and planning my visit someday.
Within the historical narrative is the historical evolution, and I think you can still show a historical timeline taking into account the budget, region, and tastes of the time. I have two teens or 20s upper kitchen cabinets in my 1900 and 1905 rental houses, for example. My region (PNW) absolutely boomed during that era, and it makes sense that an old-school kitchen could be remodeled into a fitted kitchen. With dirt-cheap lumber, tons of carpentry skill from fresh-off-the-boat Scandinavians, and new fuels like gas and cheap hydropower electricity, folks were keen to spend their money on cabinets, modern ranges to replace old coal and wood stoves, etc.. When prosperity came to the region, both pantries – the original sink locations – were removed to expand bedrooms, and fitted kitchens installed with modern stoves. The sinks in the pantry – likely some kind of metal-lined trough – were thrown out in favor of white enamel in the new, fitted kitchens.
So while something ten years newer (and anything older) than original would look off on a historic home, I’d think nothing of a 1920s kitchen in a kitchen in a late Victorian. Maybe not for the Cross House, or any kitchen built for servants, but definitely in more modest homes. This holds true for mixing and matching, too: I’ve seen many a 1920s enameled drainboard sink and 50s range in the same kitchen and other partial updates from the don’t-fix-what-ain’t-broken older generations.
Hi, Jakob!
Methinks we are talking about apples/oranges.
If the Cross House had, say, in 1929, a new kitchen installed, and that kitchen had been in good condition when I purchased the house, I would have restored it.
And this kitchen would have part of the historical narrative of the house.
I have previously written about the carriage house. It was transformed into a home circa-1920. Its 1920 kitchen was entirely replaced around 1950s, and that kitchen was intact (but battered) until just before I purchased the property. But the then owner tore it out and installed a new Home Depot kitchen. Which I tore out, while pining for the 1950s kitchen, which I would have restored. And my plans? To create a 1920s-style kitchen.
All houses change over time. I fully understand this. And there’s normally no reason to toss out these changes to reverse time.
But this isn’t what this post is about.
In the Cross House, I didn’t have a kitchen, just an empty, largely gutted room. So, why fake a 1920s-style kitchen? Why not take what little 1894 material I do have (trim, wainscoting, floor buried under later layers) and create a kitchen which respects and enhances the 1894 character of the house?
Or, I could have done a way hip new kitchen like seen on HGTV.
Neither choice would result in a ‘fake’ kitchen.
Ahh but this is where we part ways – I see nothing wrong with faking, say, a 1920s kitchen or 1930s bath in a much-older home if the original is long gone. Tastefully-curated salvage to create a period look can have great results if done right. Something has to go into spaces where the original is long gone, and skillfully recreating an era between then and now seems a perfectly valid option.
That being said, I despise clearly new materials made to look old that miss the mark. I’ve seen many a craftsman in Seattle with ‘Vintage-style’ cabinetry that’s barely a nod to the past – too out of scale/fancy. Soft close drawers, huge crown molding, etc.. Or awful garish 50s diner looks to appeal to boomer nostalgia. No thanks!
My 1904 kitchen (which also looked like a bomb went off when I got it) will either get a salvaged true 50s kitchen (my aunt’s old hand-me-down!) or a 1920s kitchen with a bit of fitted cabinetry, drainboard sink with legs, etc.. In either event the original elements of the room like baseboard and diamond patterned keene’s cement plaster below the (recreated) chair rail will remain where extant. I’m choosing this route for two reasons: I can’t live with a 1904 kitchen, nor successfully rent nor Airbnb, and if I recreate a nice period kitchen, I’ll never need to update again.
Hi again, Jakob!
First: I support your doing whatever you want with your home, as I’ve stated.
Second: I’m confused.
If I can largely create an early 1890s-type kitchen, one that will be highly workable via today’s standards, and will THRILL my own Airbnb guests, I see no reason why you can’t create a 1904-type kitchen?
It mostly comes down to: 1. An authentic range is out (and don’t get me started on those awful reproductions that look like woodstoves!) 2. I have no room for a fancy island, only wall space, so everything has to be freestanding or fitted. 3. I’m not sure if they had many enameled kitchen sinks by 1904, nor could I find an authentic one for a reasonable price. After your soapstone quote, well, that’s out. 4. I have a 50s fridge my boyfriend’s grandparents bought new and I want to feature it. We schlepped it all the way from their farm in Alberta and I want to give it a home. 5. I need to hide a dishwasher somewhere. I can only do this in a fitted kitchen. I washed dishes in college in restaurant kitchens and will never live without a dishwasher again.
More research is needed, but if I can find some affordable sink options from 1904, and if at least some minimal built-in cabinetry was a thing back then, I can probably swing this as ‘original’, hide a dishwasher behind a vintage panel, just pretend that updated the wood/coal stove for gas or electric moved on to a 50s fridge after ditching the icebox and wearing out 20s fridge. I have the benefit of a smallish walk-in pantry, wherein shall hide the microwave, so at least there’s that. Perhaps this middle way – some 1904 cabinetry and a kitchen queen, with ‘updated’ range and fridge, will work. But if I can’t find a workable original sink nor much evidence of built-in cabinetry in 1904, 20s or 50s it is.
P.S., I am on a little getaway in Portland, overlooking my favorite midcentury skyscraper from my incredibly cheap suite. Portland features one of the best-Restored kitchens I’ve ever seen, in the Pittock Mansion. Link attached.
Hi again, Jakob!
Thanks for your response and all the information. Fascinating.
Yes, if your 1904 kitchen does not have room for an island of some kind, it would prove difficult to create 1904-style kitchen.
I’m still confused though.
Your 1904 kitchen would have had a work table for food preparation. This was normally in the center, but in smaller kitchens was off to one side. Does your kitchen not allow for a center table? If so, it could then have an island, right?
I’m also confused about your desire to create a 1920s-style kitchen. You mention that you have a salvaged 1950s kitchen. Cool. And you have a 1950s fridge. So, it seems a no-brainer to do a 1950s-style kitchen, right? I would run with that!
Agreed. The owners of that 1880 house could very likely have redone the kitchen in 1920, and a 10920 kitchen is lovely and liveable. I respect changes to houses through the decades that work. That’s why I never considered taking the 1920 porch enclosures on my 1909 cottage back to being open (and I needed the space). My sink may have been from 1920 instead of 1909, but I kept it because it was beautiful and looked good in the house.
I concede that it is your house! I however would not do any of the installing of non-original period correct fixtures or furnishings since I believe it confuses the historical narrative more than anything. But then, I also would never purchase the Cross House as its interior is too intact and I simply loathe late Victorian interiors. I would feel like a monster altering any of the interior woodwork but it is too fussy and too brown for my taste. I would love to one day buy a Victorian that has already been wreckovated to the point that I can do whatever I want, which is to paint everything white and fill it with Danish mid mod. I so love a Victorian exterior, and the room proportions of old houses.
“I would love to one day buy a Victorian that has already been wreckovated to the point that I can do whatever I want, which is to paint everything white and fill it with Danish mid mod.”
See re the “This Old House” Cambridge renovation, of a few years back (which is replaying regularly on the DIY Network): that’s precisely what they did. (Victorian outside, Swedish Modern inside)
II say phooey to those who don’t like what you’ve done. I find it amazing that what you’ve achieved in such a short time is astounding. When I saw the Cross House in 2013 just from the outside, I felt it would take an act of god to bring it back to it’s glory. 43 stained glass windows and one giant curved window later, WOW!!!! That in itself has been a monumental task. Would the angry people have done what you’ve done? I think not. You have saved a great house from who knows what. you have been as true to it as possible for this modern age we live in. I commend you in what you have done for this house.