Old House My House

Dressing Up the Front

2013-10-21T15:16:05-04:00

We had long felt that our house was missing something in the front. It had many lovely details, but the front porch was a bit bare. So we asked our architect, David Whitney, to work up some options for a railing (or balustrade). Here are the four options he came back with.

Personally I liked the way the Geometric scheme picked up the angles of the house, but I was overruled. We went with the flat stock profiles, and handed the design over to Tom and Norm to take a crack at making them on site.

Here's a photo of them cuting the balusters with a template that Tom made. (Photo courtesy of Tom's Twitter feed.)

And here is what they look like in place on the porch.

Soon they'll be painted and look like they've always been part of the house. We couldn't be happier with the result!

Taking Out the Dip

2013-10-07T12:59:14-04:00

I knew something was on Tom Silva's mind. We were about a month into the project and he was quiet. Perhaps even moody.

"What's up Tom?"

"That dip in the floor is bugging me."

I couldn't get much more out of him that day, but I knew he had an itch to scratch. About a week later I visited the site and saw how Tom scratches this kind of itch.

He and the crew decided to jack up the middle of the house to get rid of the dip. They used eight jacks to lift the central beam and some attached joists. The jacks had a combined lifting capacity of 200 tons. Tom says the big one in the middle used to belong to his father. They gradually raised the middle of the house over the course of a long weekend. They completed the job by replacing the central beam, reconstructing the supporting structure, and sistering several joists.

One of the complications from this kind of project is a bunch of cracked plaster, like this:

But since we were making major repairs to the walls anyway, we figured this was a small price to pay for a dip-free floor.

A Beautiful Discovery

2013-10-07T12:53:30-04:00

One of the goals of the renovation was to create a more open feel to the home while preserving the character and charm of the period. A large part of this vision included removing the drop ceilings that were added to the first floor many years ago. We were really excited (and slightly worried) about what we would find. Tom Silva cut away a piece of the dining room ceiling so that we could get a sneak preview of our 141 year old ceiling. This beautiful discovery exceeded our expectations.

The first thing we did was crawl up a ladder to inspect the condition of the ceiling and molding. There was some damage (mostly cracks and holes) but the team felt it was salvageable. The molding really blew us away. It was stunning!

The drop ceilings have been torn down and the doorway between the living room and dining room has been modified to accommodate the new ceiling height (10 feet).

The team is poised to start the plaster work this week. The goal is to repair and restore the original ceiling, moulding and medallion. Stay tune for the after shots!

Bringing Up the Rear

2013-09-25T10:17:57-04:00

Once Tom's crew rebuilt the foundation, they were able to build over the office. The goal was to build out a master suite; a walk-in closet and bathroom will go into the new space.

They started by reinforcing the existing walls and removing the old roof. Then they installed some wooden I-joists.

The walls went up pretty quickly after that, and then of course they added the new roof. On the first floor they added a bunch of new energy efficient windows that will give the kitchen some much-needed light, and help us keep track of the kids when they're playing in the back yard.

The new structure looks like this:

Four Ways to Know You're on a Home Improvement Show

2013-09-18T18:17:45-04:00

In most ways we were a pretty typical family. We had our routine: got up in the morning, got the kids to school, went to work, ate dinner, repeat. Normal stuff.

Then our home was selected as a project for This Old House. And just like that - poof - the routine was gone.

As a service for you, reader, I've put together this list. If you notice the following things happening to you, you too may be on a home improvement show.

#1: There are cameras everywhere

One day I came home from work and found this in my living room:

I knew going into this there were going to be webcams, but I had no idea each one was going to be 6 feet tall, make noise and scare the heck out of me every time I walked into the room. Not shown are the ones in the front and back yards, or the one parked outside our bathroom.

#2: Very intense people are telling you what to do. And you do it.

The first filming day was an eye opener. I'll start by saying the crew is incredibly nice and professional. The folks behind the camera have the same level of expertise in their fields as Tom, Roger, Kevin and Norm.

But once it comes time to shoot an episode, they are all business. Here's what it looks like when Tom Draught, the director, tells you what to do during a shot.

See the intensity in his eyes? Clearly this is not a man to ignore.

#3: Funny things are happening all around you.

Here's a picure of TOH series producer Deb Hood showing Tom Silva how to use Twitter. Yes, pigs are now flying. You can follow him here.

#4: You see this thing parked in front of your house

I'm sure we'll get back to our routine once the project is over. But for now we're enjoying the ride!

The Glimmer Glass Half Full

2013-09-05T10:30:00-04:00

August 2013 - Manasquan, NJ

(Picture: Rita Gurry in front of her demolished home. As of today it is rebuilt thanks to Rita's determination.)

You never know how someone is going to react when they lose everything, but an educated guess suggests that most would find the experience traumatic. But people surprise you, like Rita Gurry did. Rita is one of three homeowners we are working with on the Jersey Shore, and I’ve written about her before (see my earlier post below). After Super Storm Sandy hit the Jersey coast her house was a total loss; we took it down with an excavator this past April.

Don’t get me wrong, Rita was pretty devastated when she saw what Sandy did to her house. “It was as if somebody just came in and blew my life apart,” she recalled calmly sitting next to me on the Glimmer Glass, a tidal inlet near her home. It was a somber conversation.

But the remarkable thing about Rita is what she did next. About ten minutes after seeing her devastated, flooded house she decided to rebuild. “Higher, newer, better…with a big front porch” she told me with a smile.

That’s what you do when you’re a half-glass-full kind of gal.

We'll feature a video showing Rita's story—and more like hers—in the weeks to come, before the premiere of the new season of This Old House.

If you have any comments or questions, you can find Kevin on Twitter or Facebook

"When They Say Get Out, Get Out" -- Nick Spino

2013-09-03T14:07:17-04:00

(Picture: Nick Spino on the rebuilt steps of his house, which was underwater the night Sandy hit.)

Our director, Thom, stepped out of the car with a sort of stunned look in his eyes. “What’s up?” I asked, expecting to hear about his day scouting and about yet another devastated community on the Jersey Shore. But that wasn’t it. “I just met this guy Nick,” he said shaking his head in disbelief, and then he told me Nick’s story. Then I heard the story from Nick himself, not once or twice but maybe a dozen times, because now we were recording it on camera and because it’s that kind of story.

Nick stayed in his home when Super Storm Sandy hit, and it hit Nick hard. He ended up on a roof, then in the water, then underwater. He reached for power lines to save his life and for his cell phone to say his goodbyes. He heard sounds he’d never forget – houses cracking in half and rushing at him on ocean waves. He felt hopelessness, like when a police officer told him there would be no rescue and asked him to write his social security number on his arm.

But the next day Nick was still there on his roof and alive, which is why he is able to tell his story.

Keep an eye out for a video of Nick telling his story, which will appear on thisoldhouse.com in the weeks to come, before the premiere of the new season of This Old House.

If you have any comments or questions, you can find Kevin on Twitter or Facebook

"We Will Never Split Up Again"

2013-09-03T13:27:56-04:00

August, 2013 - Point Pleasant, NJ

(Picture: The kayak Carlos hauled up to his second floor and eventually used to paddle away from his flooded house.)

When Superstorm Sandy barreled down on the town of Point Pleasant you could say that Carlos and Maria Santos went their separate ways. Maria left, taking the kids to the temporary shelter setup at the nearby school. Carlos stayed, to keep an eye on things and to man the three pumps he set up under the house.

They were only about a mile apart, but when the flood waters started rising, it was like Maria and Carlos were separated by a huge ocean. First the power went out, then Maria’s phone service. The pumps Carlos was tending were overwhelmed and Carlos retreated to the second floor as water filled his house. Maria, back at the shelter, was nervous, the kids were crying, she couldn’t sleep. Carlos took a nap. When he woke up and couldn’t reach Maria by phone, he called the insurance company, just to get a jump on things.

(The water filled the Santos house with almost two feet of water.)

The next morning rescue crews deployed to search homes and Maria insisted they go to her house to look for Carlos. When they arrived, Carlos sent them away – he wasn’t ready to be rescued.

Eventually, when his work was done Carlos untied his kayak from the second floor banister, launched it out his front door, and paddled his way through the streets to the shelter where he was reunited with his family.

But needless to say, Carlos and Maria will never split up again.

We'll feature a video showing Carlos and Maria's story—and more like theirs—in the weeks to come, before the premiere of the new season of This Old House.

If you have any comments or questions, you can find Kevin on Twitter or Facebook

This Was Their Life's Work - Jackie Rebholz

2013-08-29T16:41:16-04:00

June 2013 - Mantoloking,NJ

(Picture: Jackie Rebolz and her children watch as her parents' home of thirty years is demolished and removed from the bay.)

Natural disasters like Sandy cause some strange situations, and I saw plenty of them when I got to the Jersey Shore. There was the broken house sitting on top of a two-ton army truck, and there was the 100-foot-high roller coaster sitting in the ocean so perfectly intact it looked like a dozen screaming teenagers had just given it a ride.

And strange situations lead to strange questions like the one asked by Jackie Rebholz about her family home – “How do you take a house out of a bay?” For thirty years her parent’s home sat on the small finger of land between Barnegat Bay and the Atlantic Ocean in the borough of Mantoloking. When Sandy hit and the barrier island was breached, Jackie’s house was washed off terra firma and into the bay. And there it sat for eight months, eerily intact just like that roller coaster, standing not so firm and raising many strange questions.

(Picture: The house was washed into the bay during Superstorm Sandy and sat there for eight months before it was finally torn down and carted away via barge.)

Natural disasters also lead to some strange emotions. There’s fear of course, some anger, a sense of loss no doubt and on darker days maybe even a sense of hopelessness. But to my surprise, even on the darkest day one can feel a “sense of relief” – so Jackie told me as we watched a crew tear down her family home, taking it from the bay and from her family forever.

We'll feature a video showing Jackie's story—and more like hers—in the weeks to come, before the premiere of the new season of This Old House.

(If you have any comments or questions, you can find Kevin on Twitter or Facebook )

Build a Wall!

2013-07-02T11:07:00-04:00

May 14, 2013 -- Bay Head, N.J.

As long as kids have gone to the beach they’ve built sand castles, and I suspect they always will. And for every sand castle built most eventually end up with a wall of sand in front of them. The tide always rises and every kid, seeing his prized creation threatened by the oncoming waves, thinks the same thing: “Build a wall!”

In Bay Head, N.J. that simple childhood instinct is alive and well, post-superstorm Sandy. A group of about 20 beachfront homeowners are, on their own nickel, building a “revetment wall.” It will sit on the beach between the ocean and their homes, a big bit of industry that starts with digging down about 20 feet, then filling the hole with 6,000 pound stones trucked in from nearby quarries. Those massive stones are then covered with more sand. The idea is to break the wave action kicked up by a storm and provide a last line of defense with a barrier that, the homeowners hope, won’t wash away.

(Picture: A drawing of a typical beach revetment wall, showing the large rocks below and above grade, the top-covering of sand, and the slope of the wall, which is designed to break the wave energy.)

There’s pretty good evidence this system can work. Bay Head built another revetment wall about 50 years ago and even though it was covered in sand, invisible and mostly forgotten by local residents when Sandy hit the homes standing behind this wall were mostly spared during the storm. Hence the desire by those living just south of the old wall to build a new one.

(Picture: Once the revetment wall is built homeowners lose most of their water views. But as one homeowner said "I prefer the view of my house still being here after a storm.")

But the idea is not without controversy. Twenty-foot rock walls buried beneath the sand are not natural elements on a beach. And the wall won’t stretch the length of the beach. Someone's home will always be adjacent to where the wall ends, and therefore subject to what the engineers call “end action” – an ominous term no matter how you parse it. Oh, and those nickels the homeowners are spending themselves, well, there will be plenty of them. This little wall is reported to cost $2.2 million, and there are only so many kids with buckets that big.

(Picture: Revetment walls are alot of work and money. This wall is reported to cost over $2 million.)

When I walk the beach in the early morning I rarely see yesterday’s sand castles still standing; it seems the waves always win out. But for my money (and, of course, it’s not my money) I say let them build the walls. And let them try other ideas like beach replenishment, planting dune grass, raising houses and whatever else they can think of. The houses and people along the Jersey shore aren’t leaving, so it might be time for a few more walls.

Foundation Nation

2013-06-28T14:57:37-04:00

When we first thought about adding a second floor above our office, we figured we'd be in store for some conversations about the foundation. The office was housed in a small addition at the back of the house that - we think - started off as a screened-in porch.

Our hunch prooved right. When Tom and the crew started poking around under the office it didn't take long for them to conclude that it was merely a pile of rubble under our house. It wasn't really doing much to hold the structure up. Here's a picture of Tommy drawing a picture of how slanted the back part of our house had become over the years.

The photo also shows the LVL they bolted to the structure to make it level.

So they quickly decided we needed to add a proper foundation if we wanted to add on a second level. That meant digging down four feet to get below the frost line. Because of the number of boulders on our site and the location where they needed to dig, excavation needed to be done by hand. That's a a lot of work. Two days later this is what it looked like:

They poured a new concrete footing, then built the walls out of block. Amazingly, most of this happened during one of the rainiest weeks of the year. Our son came by to inspect their work.

Inside they put a rat slab.

The finished foundation looks good. The back room, which will now be part of the kitchen, is level and solid. And best if all, it's ready for the second story soon to be built above it.

Rebuilding Home

2013-06-28T14:52:28-04:00

May 7, 2013 -- Seaside Heights, NJ

(Picture: The storm devastated Seaside Heights, its boardwalk, which is the lifeblood of the business community, and the amusement park that attracts tens of thousands of tourists every summer.)

“We’re going to rebuild our home.” It’s a refrain I hear as I move around the storm-damaged neighborhoods of the Jersey Shore. People are determined to rebuild their homes and it’s an understandable sentiment. Well... I thought I understood it. As it turns out some people are talking about their houses (I know three of them very well) but many others are talking about their home, that is to say their township or their neighborhood. Both “homes” are important. A roof over your head is critical, but so is a school for your kids, a church for your soul and a grocery store for your survival. And on the Jersey shore both “homes” need rebuilding.

And so it was as I walked and filmed on the famed boardwalk of Seaside Heights on a cloudy day in mid-May. At the time there was a frenzy of construction activity. Sandy destroyed most of the boardwalk, ripping up its planks, snapping in half 30-foot pilings, and washing away nearly 200 feet of a 600-foot pier that had stretched into the ocean. It was a complete loss. On that pier sat nearly a dozen amusement park rides until Sandy had her way with them and hurled five of the rides into the ocean, including the now iconic Jet Star rollercoaster. Somehow the Jet Star remained mostly intact and upright even as it sat in the Atlantic Ocean. It was an eerie sight and it has become one of the most unforgettable images of the storm.

(Picture: There used to be about a dozen rides on this pier, but Sandy dumped five of them into the ocean and ruined the rest.)

But we didn’t come to Seaside Heights to see the destruction, we came to see the rebuilding, and on this day we saw plenty of it. There were cranes, bobcats, trucks, and crews frantically working to get things fixed by Memorial Day weekend. If the boardwalk could not be rebuilt by then, the scores of businesses that line it couldn’t open for the season and that would be a disaster for the town. Summer tourism dollars drive this community – they fill the tax coffers, pay the salaries of thousands of workers, and maintain the schools. One missed summer wouldn’t just leave the town wanting for dollars, it might permanently change people’s behavior. Tourists might decide to go elsewhere and never come back. So the race to rebuild was on.

(Picture: Rebuilding was at a frenzied pace just weeks before the critical Memorial Day weekend.)

It may seem slightly less urgent or noble to rebuild a boardwalk than a house, but it isn’t. In fact, rebuilding a single house is far easier than restoring a community or an entire town. The good news is, they made the deadline. The boardwalk and the businesses reopened in time for the Memorial Day summer kickoff. And the work of restoring a community continues.

More photos from Seaside Heights canbe found here: More photos

Abe Lincoln and the Jet Star

2013-06-25T10:00:00-04:00

May 9, 2013 -- Seaside Heights

(Picture: My all-time favorite picture, which I took during an incredible day at the Lincoln Memorial. This is an impossible shot to get unless you are up on scaffolding right next to this amazing memorial.)

Normally on This Old House we have great access to experts and unique locations. Telling folks you work with the show is usually a golden ticket that can get you behind the scenes of some spectacular places. I’ll never forget when I was at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, DC, for example, and a Park Service employee invited me up the statue of Abraham Lincoln onto some scaffolding placed there for a once in a lifetime repair. Fewer than 100 people, I was told, had ever seen the sculpture this close, and when I laid eyes on the tiny caliper marks made by Daniel Chester French during the statue’s construction, I was literally awestruck.

(Picture: I love my job. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity to get up close and personal with the Linmcoln Memorial.)

Access is a good thing, but it doesn’t always come easily. Recently I posted about our day on the boardwalk in Seaside Heights and about the now iconic image of the Jet Star rollercoaster sitting in the Atlantic Ocean (see below). Seaside Heights Mayor Bill Akers had secured access for us to this incredible site that was destroyed by Sandy and undergoing a frenzied re-construction. After filming a scene with the mayor we thanked him and moved off the boardwalk and headed to the beach so we could shoot a DTC (direct to camera) in front of the eerie image of the waves crashing onto the Jet Star.

There was just one problem: the access road to the beach was blocked by a New Jersey state trooper and the mayor – our ticket to film anywhere we wanted –– had just left us. What to do? Well, in these cases you hope the gatekeeper (the trooper in this case) happens to recognize you and also happens to be a fan of the show. So, the crew sent my familiar face forward to the squad car. As I approached and saw no softening of the trooper’s stare I realized now would have been a good time to be Norm Abram instead of Kevin O’Connor.

Okay, maybe he didn’t recognize me but I was sure he would be familiar with the show. So, as I approached, carefully, and as he lowered his window, reluctantly, I decided turnabout was fair play. I stood tall above him as he sat low in his seat and I pulled out my credentials – a business card in a cheap pleather case – and flashed them inside the cruiser. “Kevin O’Connor, This Old House” I said in my most authoritative voice. “We are going to film on your beach.”

Silence. Then he got out of the car. Shoot. Now he was the tall, towering one. The silenced persisted until finally he spoke. “Let me see that again” he said, his stare softening. “Kevin O’Connor, This Old House?” I repeated, in the form of a question this time. After all, he had a gun, and all I had was a cameraman.

Then he laughed. Maybe at my gall, maybe at the situation, or maybe just because he loves the show like so many others. In any event, he waved us on to the beach and we shot our DTC. And when we were done, I shot this picture, which has become one of my most memorable.

(Picture: The Jet Star rollercoaster, sitting in the Atlantic Ocean.)

Taking Down the Staircase

2013-06-17T10:00:00-04:00

In an earlier post we showed some pictures of the surprise staircase we found behind a wall. Sadly, there wasn't a spot for it in our new plans, so it had to go. Here's a quick video of Tom and Kevin taking it down.

Here's the a quick picture of Kevin with the aftermath.

Christmas Trees and Volleyball

2013-06-11T11:00:00-04:00

Bayhead -- April 18, 2013

(Picture: An annual dose of old christmas trees kept the dune grass healthy and thick, protecting the beach and house behind it.)

On parts of the Jersey Shore, people actually own the beach. Neighborhood associations can sell badges to visitors, limit parking near the beach, and even ask people to get off their sand if the person is above the mean high tide line.

This is a foreign concept to me, even after spending every year of my life visiting Long Beach Island on the Jersey Shore. Yes, we have to buy beach badges, but in my township those fees simply support beach grooming and the lifeguards. So I was surprised when I spoke to two brothers, let’s call them Josh and Eric, who told me they not only owned their homes on the beach but the sand in front of them as well.

Ownership has its privileges, but it also comes with responsibilities. And Josh and Eric, whose family has owned their beach house for five generations, take those responsibilities seriously. They tend their section of beach carefully, and they know the dune that sits in front of their house helps to protect their family home. So each winter after Christmas, the brothers pile old Christmas trees onto their dune. The dried-out branches do a good job protecting the sand from the winter winds, and the decaying trees do a good job feeding the dune grasses, which in turn help to hold the sand in place. Josh and Eric have done this every year for a decade or more and have been rewarded with a grassy dune. When Sandy struck that dune protected their house from any damage, and remarkably, when I saw the dune six months later it was smaller but still covered with grass.

Even more remarkable was that the dune in front of the house right next door was barren. Turns out the neighbor wanted a volleyball court so some time ago he poured gasoline onto the dune grass, and ever since then nothing has grown. And when Sandy hit, well, instead of providing protection that dune mostly disappeared and the house suffered damage.

Lesson learned.

(Picture: Notice the grass in the foreground and background. The big sandy void in the middle is what happens when you chose volleyball over grass.)