I’m baaack! Sorry for the long hiatus. First the holidays, then the flu, then the craziness of back to school, then vacation…but through all of that things have been happening at the Summit House!

You might remember the Old Lady has some structural issues, mainly in one sinking corner. The more we looked at her, the more we realized this one sinking corner affected the main room, an upstairs bedroom, the front roofline, and the porch column, which someone decided would attempt to hold the whole thing together. (It wasn’t up to the challenge). That’s not even getting into the things we couldn’t see.

Contractor Nathan cane up with a plan that left everything undisturbed but the porch, which will be redone anyway. He poured footings and started jacking, and we couldn’t be completely sure how it would go.

In a 1958 photo, it’s clear the house had already settled into that corner. Even the 1925 photo suggests the house had settled. So she’s been there a long time with those structural deficiencies. Somehow that made me feel better

Since the first of the year, there has been digging, jacking, more digging, more jacking, temporary beams, permanent beams, and everything in between.

And it’s all gone beautifully. The first locations made such a huge and immediate difference that we decided to move out a bit and jack another location.

And the house is straightening out. Nowhere is that more obvious in the daylight between the roofline and the (decorative) column, which never should have been tasked with holding up the house. It’s glorious.

The trade off is cracking plaster. Like…a lot of cracking plaster. But…it’s beautiful. It’s the trade off for structural soundness and it’s beautiful.

Like most things, the plaster can be fixed. And it will be. For now, it’s a beautiful reminder that things are going right and we’re getting where we need to be.

While Asher and his friends “fixed up” the garage room, I had quiet moments in the house. The contractor had just left after another round of jacking and the house was making the most amazing sounds – deep pops and groans – as she settled into her new shape. She’s broken, but it’s so beautiful to know she’s coming around.

I should have remembered there’s another chimney in this house. The inspector found it in the attic, capped off up there. But chimneys don’t just exist in attics. They exist from basements on up.

So, running right through the space I want to open up on the main floor is a massive piece of 120 year old masonry.

The mason’s daughter in me is stoked; the me hoping for an open floor plan is a little less stoked.

Do we leave it, exposed, as a reminder of the past? Even though in the past it would not have been exposed?

Do we dismantle it, attempting to salvage the brick for another use?

Or do we go full demo-rage on it and just get it out of here?

I don’t know. But, I did know immediately I MUST know what it looks like. Using a bit more restraint in my bashing, I was able to uncover a decently large portion.

The history nerd in me loves uncovering these things. It’s fascinating. The demo queen in me does not love having to use finesse in the uncovering. It’s not in my nature.

The widow in me never feels closer to Craig than I do when I’m working on a project like this. Maybe because we spent so many hours working on house projects together that it’s just natural to assume he’d be right next to me for this one too. There is peace in this. And pain. But that’s grief.

As far as the wine part goes…it’s not. After surviving stomach flu over the New Year, wine still doesn’t sound all that great. But I have a bottle here, ready for when it does.

In the meantime, I’ll be awake at night, thinking of chimneys.

Yesterday, as everyone went back to school and work, a flurry of activity began at the Summit House. Most importantly, Paco began excavating under the house so we can start the leveling project.

I don’t envy his job. Moving rocks and dirt out from under an old house, that’s sinking, by hand, is not for the faint of heart. But he made incredible progress. When I arrived today, he had almost made it to the goal!

I keep bothering him, asking if he’s seen anything “cool under there.” He keeps promising me I’ll be the first to know if he does. You’d think there’d be *something* interesting in all that rubble. But not so far. *EDIT* he found a piece of glass. Like, a big piece. Not as interesting as I’d hoped, honestly.

This leveling project is the first step in the renovation. It’s exciting to have action and people in the house; and this is just the beginning.

Some other exciting news – we have As-Built drawings completed, and the designer will be presenting options for the new layout this week. The electricians came through yesterday and they are working on a bid to replace ALL the existing electrical – both knob and tube and the updated electrical which somehow worries me more than the original K&T.

In between all that, Nathan (the contractor) and I spent a lot of time puzzling. This house has so many oddities. So many weird additions, deletions, and manipulations. It makes my brain hurt at the same time it lights me up with excitement. I’m using parts of my brain that haven’t been used in awhile, then I get to go pull carpet tacks (because that’s my job now), scrape paint, or bash on things. And I’m altogether happy at day’s end.

I’m 100% overwhelmed, but in a good way.

And there’s a trench in my house.

This delightful Santa (get it? De*light*ful? Ha!) is pretty much as good as it will get this year in terms of decor here at Summit House.

Today I told Nathan, the contractor, and Tammie, the designer, that I’d like to be living here next Christmas. The moment of silence was deafening. Apparently, that’s an aggressive timeline.

So poor, lonely Santa may still be lonely next year.

There is a balance to all these things, right? In an ideal world, we do everything “right.” But in renovations, there’s a wide chasm that contains “right” and everyone has an opinion. So we’re going to have to find the balance that doesn’t blow the budget, or extend the timeline, but still honors this wonderful old lady.

There is sweat equity that I’m willing to do. But I seriously have to stop telling people about the stripping. I mean *wood* stripping. Every time. Seriously, every single time, I’m talking about stripping paint off wood.

This was all starting to sound very sad, but it’s not. I love that everyone who comes to the house loves her like I do. That is going to sustain us both. It’s going to be spectacular when it’s done!

Merry Christmas, my loves. Put out all the good thoughts you can into the universe that we will be drinking wine here at Summit House at this time next year!

Not everything turns out like I would hope. This is the sad tale of original wallpaper, plastered over and likely not salvageable.

We figured there was something odd about the fireplace. The plaster around it seemed…off. Not one to be shy about investigating, I began picking off pieces of plaster.

It was incredibly satisfying. The plaster came off so easily, revealing the masonry below. I was on the phone, mindlessly chipping away. Then I noticed ink on the masonry.

So I looked down to the floor, and to the litter of plaster I’d been so joyfully picking. And the back of all that plaster had….original wallpaper. And my heart broke.

I honestly felt sick, like I’d made a huge mistake I knew I couldn’t fix. So I puzzled and puzzed, ‘til my puzzler was sore (seems like a good time of year for a Grinch reference). And then I went to the smartest people I know about these sorts of things.

And consensus is: I can’t save it. I can’t extricate the wallpaper from the plaster. One person told me I should feel fortunate I know what the original was, so I can try to find a replica.

But my plan is to attempt to loosen a large enough piece that I can frame it, and hang it over the fireplace as a nod to the past.

How I’ll manage to get a large piece is still in the planning stages. The baker in me knows a very, very long offset spatula might do it. A floor scraper, and good old fashioned fishing line have also been tossed out as possibilities.

It’s not what I want, but it’s probably the best I can hope for. I don’t think I ever imagined crying over wallpaper. But here we are.

It’s a real thing.

Today the daughter of the previous owners stopped by. She moved into the house, with her family, when she was four. In addition to the family stories, memories of growing up in the house, and other delightful anecdotes, she mentioned, almost offhandedly, if I knew there was a pocket door between the main hall and the parlor?

Well, no, I didn’t know that. How would I? It has been dry walled over, covered in moldings, and until recently was the site of ungodly-ugly bifold doors. Leaving no trace of the door hidden in the wall.

Cue the demo rage.

I may have done some therapeutic screaming as I went at the molding and drywall with my hammer and pry bar. I certainly let loose a flood of profanity when a piece of molding snapped back and hit my knuckle.

And then…pay dirt. Or pocket door. Same thing.

I’ve certainly done more in-depth demo (and enjoyed it immensely), but this one really had the sweetest pay off. Most demo leads to something you don’t want going away. This time? The demo was to get to something I really want to keep.

Eventually I was able to clear away all the drywall. But in order to get the door out I had to remove a 5 inch nail they put through the bottom into the floor (why?) and use my pry bar as an extra handle to pull the door out using my brute strength. (Which I have. Stop rolling your eyes!)

It’s beautiful. Solid wood, 5-panel pocket door that matches all the other doors throughout the house. It weighs about 200 pounds, and needs lots of attention. For starters, it’s ridiculously heavy and no longer attached to any sliding mechanisms. There was more swearing as I finally was able to get it out of the pocket. I’ll need to call in reinforcements to either remove it for repairs or put it back.

So that was my day. Oh, but I also got internet and the natural gas line located. Add that to my visitor, the pocket door demo, and the endless stripping and carpet-tack-pulling and it was a good day.

I’ll be drinking tonight, while in the hot tub. Probably a Woodward Canyon NV red blend that I swore I bought as holiday party hostess gifts, but really I’ll probably end up drinking it all myself. The NV red blend will pair nicely with my bruised knuckle. They’re almost the same color.

Cheers!

I have a new hero and her name is Megan Duvall and she is the Historic Preservation Officer for the City/County of Spokane. She was referred to me by my long-time hero, Kirstin Davis, who sits two desks away at City Hall.

There have been more serendipitous moments like this than I can count since I bought this house, but this one is certainly one of the most fruitful so far. Megan dumped (and I use that term in the most positive, grateful and impressed tone I know) a TON of historic documents relating to my house and the people who have lived there.

Guess what, guys?!?!? I AM THE FOURTH OWNER. Seriously. Do the math. She’s 120 years old. And has only had three owners before me. It’s astounding. And it makes my charge to bring this old house back to life even more important now.

Cliff’s Notes Version: Built by Schermerhorn. Lived in by Ford. Then Riordan. Now Caro.

Here’s the important stuff, for all you history buffs. And again, a HUGE thanks to Megan Duvall for this amazing content.

1899 – H. Louis and Helen Schermerhorn (original warranty deed – all hand-written!)
But…it is a pdf and I will have to figure out how to load it here.

1910 Federal Census – Louis Schermerhorn and his wife Helen B. were living at 1306 N. Summit Blvd. Louis was 40 and Helen, 39 – they had been married for 17 years by 1910. He was born in Illinois; his dad was from Michigan and his mother from Vermont. Helen was born Wisconsin; and both her father and mother were from Germany. Louis lists his profession as a manufacturers agent for a wholesale grocery. Helen doesn’t work. No children.

So, this is weird – in the 1920 census, Louis is married to “Mary” – what happened to Helen? I assumed that perhaps she had passed away, divorce seemed unlikely…but then I caught a glimpse of her name in Ancestry in the 1930 and 1940 censuses. She was an “inmate” at Eastern State Hospital – in 1930, she describes herself as divorced, but in 1940, says she is married. Her name never changes from Schermerhorn. She died at Alderwood Manor in Spokane on June 20, 1960 – 82 years old and most possibly institutionalized and alone for the majority of her life.

A little more about H L Schermerhorn, he was a Shriner. Here is a newspaper article from December of 1895:

And…we got lucky!! Here is the newspaper article from March 24, 1899 all about building YOUR house – complete with a bit of a description of the interior, as well as naming the architects (White, Huber and Strack)! I can see where they may have called Webb “Sharp” in 1899, so this is definitely about the house at 1306:

Well, looks like H. L. had a problem or two with the Humane Society! Spokesman Review, January 31, 1907 & January 30, 1907:

Here he is from the July 11, 1908 Spokane Chronicle:

Looks like they let his drivers off the next day.

May 28, 1912 – I’m assuming we are still talking about Helen here:

September 22, 1916, Mr and Mrs Shermerhorn were closing up their “summer home” and coming back to the city”

Interesting – looks like the Schermerhorns “fostered” a boy from Deer Park for his schooling in Spokane (1919 article – and see attached article from April 1919 with photos of Cummings and Schermerhorn):

August 17, 1926 – here’s the announcement of the marriage of Mrs. Charles Jasper and Louis:

So, Emily was only 19 when she married Charles Jasper….who was 40! They divorced in 1923 – here is the announcement from April 23, 1923:

And the juicy details! (April 20, 1923):

In the 1930 Census, Louis (57) and Emily (43) Schermerhorn are living at 521 E 25^th with Emily’s son, Karl Jasper (13). Emily was from Pennsylvania. The Schermerhorns and Jaspers must have been good friends.

From an ad in July of 1935 (it does show that “Louie” was pretty well known around town!):

Here was a story and photo from the paper when he retired, October 5, 1946:

July 29, 1949:

Emily died January of 1986:

Interesting – I found an article from 1914 that mentions that Mr. Jasper was spending time with Mr. Schermerhorn at the lake – so they must have been long time friends before they married later in life:

NEXT OWNER:

1922 – 1952 – James A Ford (it gets a little confusing on the deeds – JA Ford took out a permit in 1922, so he was obviously living there, but the deed is dated 1925. I’ve seen this several times, but it does confuse the issue!) – James dies in October of 1952 and his widow, Mary was still listed as living in the house at 1306.

Here is James Ford in 1927:

Here he is again in 1938 speaking to a Chamber of Commerce group:

October 1, 1952:

His obituary:

Here’s James and Mary’s 1902 marriage certificate:

Interestingly enough, in the 1940 census, James and Mary lived at 1306…with their daughter and her husband (his profession was salesman at a department store):

NEXT OWNER:

1958, 1980 – G Riordan – while I see a permit pulled in 1958, I don’t see a Riordan listed at this address in 1959. I actually found him in the 1960 City Directory at 1306 N Summit – but it’s Jerome Riodan – who shows up later too. In 1960, he was a “pressman” at the Spokesman.

Looks like Jerome was born in January of 1919. He married Beverly Gabel on February 8^th of 1950:

He registered for the draft in 1942 – looks like he did serve in WWII:

Both Riordans just died recently.

Information from Building Permits

Information we can discern from the building permits:

In 1899, a building permit was received for a connection to the City’s water main:

In 1939, there was some kind of rather extensive alteration of the property. $1000 at the time would have meant a large project.

This is all a lot to process, I know. I am going to leave this here, for now, without further comment. I know there is still research to be done, and because Spokane is such a wonderful big-small-town, I know I will continue to learn more about the fascinating people who lived at 1306 and made her the grand lady she remains to this day.

For now, I am left with but one question: Shall I return the master bedroom to it’s former glory of “turkey red wall finishes with black lace drapings”???

But we’ve got this.
She has great bones.

So the old lady is sinking a bit. Just in one corner, and just 3-4 inches. But that is enough to have a pretty noticeable…tilt. Since my goal is to keep the old lady standing for at least another 120 years, we are going to fix it.

Contractor Nathan Scott stopped by to take a look and ended up spending almost two hours investigating. That’s a quality contractor. And he came up with probably the least invasive solution possible. And we got to see what’s under the front porch!

The process of jacking her up to install a new joist is going to be a long one. Nathan says the house will tell us when she’s had enough. Then we give her a week to settle again. Then jack her up a bit more. And so on. This will keep the plaster walls from cracking and give her time to settle before we do too many other renovations.

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So I know you really want to see the house, and I only teased that in my last post. Here are a week’s worth of photos!

Full disclosure: we knew there were hardwoods underneath the carpet. We didn’t know they would A. look like that. And B. look like that. The condition. The inlay. The pattern. The combination of quarter-sawn and not-quarter-sawn oak.

I started pulling up large swaths of ugly blue-gray commercial-type carpet like it was my job. I couldn’t stop. Then I spent the next day pulling up the tack strip and approximately 4000 carpet tacks. I got lots of blisters and lots of cuts. It was SO worth it.

This is the main room, front room, or “Hall” as it was called at the time. More on that later.

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Ah, the Blue Room. Or Dining Room. I get why people covered up wood with carpet. And I am sort of glad they did because it keeps the floors protected. But why, oh why, would anyone paint oak woodwork BABY BLUE?!?!?! And it’s not just here and there – every piece of molding, baseboard, box beam, built in, wall, ceiling…they are ALL painted blue. And I discovered the blue is only part of the story. 1/3 of the story.

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Before it was blue, it was pink. And before that it was some sort of putty/harvest gold color. *Then* we get to oak. I was half hoping it would be some lesser-cool wood and I could go along with my life and not feel the need to strip the blue room. But I feel the need to strip the blue room. Anyone know how to do that without driving myself insane?

I had meant to leave the blue carpet as a sort of drop cloth. My helper yesterday disagreed with that, though he did leave me a little carpet piece for my “work space.” It is probably a good time to mention that I am a VERY messy wood-stripper.

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See that gray/blue carpet? It isn’t pretty, but my finger-blisters can attest to the fact it was installed well. Under that carpet, there appears to be wood stairs. Yipee. The stairs are proving to be a lot harder to de-carpet than the flat. The banister is also a point of contention – I believe it is original, but I seem to be in the minority. But guess what? I love it and she’s my house and it is staying.

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A few exterior photos, just to round things out. She’s going to get an exterior paint job as part of Phase I or II. But the yard, oh my god, the yard, is probably like Phase 31.

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Woman, circa 1978, in
desperate need of a project.

I did it. I bought a 1899-1901 historic house here in Spokane, Wash. I wasn’t necessarily looking for this house; I think it found me. I also think my realtor is rightfully rolling her eyes at that sentiment. After all, we’ve seen approximately 7 billion houses together in the past few years. But something felt different about this one, and I think both Laurie and I agree on that.

I saw the house. Two days later I brought my dad to see the house. I made an offer. The offer was accepted. The next day, I took my son (yeah, maybe he should have been involved earlier, but it is well known this particular 8 year old has TERRIBLE taste in houses). Two days after that, we had her inspected. Ten days after my offer was accepted, I was holding the keys to my brand new, 120-year old house.

This past Monday, December 2, I let myself in to my new house, gave us both a pep talk, and dug in.

I’m not doing this alone. If anything has come to light, it is that I have an amazing support system of friends and family, and not one of them has called me out on the insanity of taking on this old lady (the house, I mean). Many, many people have offered support – everything from connecting me to people who might be able to help with the research, to people offering to do manual labor.

But in a sense, I am doing it alone. Or, as a single, widowed mother. When my husband passed away unexpectedly a couple of years ago, I wasn’t sure I would survive. Then I sold the mid-century rancher he and I had lovingly restored and moved my son and I in with my parents so I could “take a break” from yard work, house projects, and the myriad things that are required to keep a son, dogs, and a home going.

So yeah, this old lady (again, I refer to the house) found me. She found me when I was ready to imagine living out of my parents’ basement again. When I had my emotional, physical, and mental health restored enough to imagine taking this on. And when I needed a project – something I could sink my brain and my hands into.

I hope you’ll join me as I go through this process. I am an amateur blogger and renovator – in spite of already renovating a house – but I promise to share the wonderful things about this process, and the not-so-wonderful things (seriously, have you ever watched the video feed of a camera traveling through a 120 year old sewer line?). But I can’t wait to continue this project and I can’t wait to share it with you!

Oh! And the wine part. Well, I do love wine. And my friend Jesse suggested that I would probably be drinking a lot of it as I go through this renovation. So he came up with the blog title. He also says that only gives me 99 posts. We’ll see……

Here is my celebration – with BUBBLY! – for finishing a full week of renovation-related activities: