What to build? Who to build it?

A house has never held any great expectations.  I grew up in a home where hospitality was the hallmark not architecture or design.  My parents civic devotion and political activism brought lots of interesting visitors and, on rare occasions, guests of notoriety -- the author Gore Vidal, the economist Kenneth Galbraith and the actor Alan Arkin.  Robert Weaver, the first African American to hold a cabinet-level post, was at our house when the news broke of his confirmation as the Housing and Urban Development secretary.  The Jewish High Holy Days, Thanksgiving, Passover Seders were major family and friends festivities.  That's what the modest house in Poughkeepsie, N.Y. was about.

The most remarkable feature was no mark of distinction -- the sole bathroom.  The room had three doors and, until I was entering my teens, no locks on any of them (the household included my parents, an older brother and younger sister).  Finally, thanks to my otherwise genial grandfather (maternal), locks were installed after he declared he wasn't visiting again until privacy in the water closet could be secured. What ever trauma may have lingered from those days of toilet trepidation doesn't appear too serious -- none of us today are serial killers or radio talk-show hosts.

For many, homes are reflections of personalities, graciousness and warmth in the ways we adorn them -- the furniture, the decorations, the landscaping.  For most, opportunities to shape our dwellings from scratch are, at best, limited by costs and time .  At the turn of the last century, Craftsman homes -- dozens of designs and options -- became a standard in many residential neighborhoods.  In the Midwest, places like Kansas, these homes were practical and necessary.  The treeless prairie meant there was little lumber locally available.  Thanks to Sears, everything necessary to build the house -- down to the last nail -- could be loaded on a freight car.  By the mid 20th century, with the dawn of the baby boom, the demand for housing for a growing middle class gave birth to suburbia, track homes and subdivisions   shape tastes.  Over time, these homes became
distinct for the touches of landscaping; modifications and renovations to accommodate growing families, demands for creature comforts and modernization.

While pondering a design for the Duck Creek house, what to do?  Prefabricated modular and manufactured homes might be a possibility.  Some very interesting things are going on in this area.  Blu Homes designs homes with sustainability and efficiency as a top priority.  A team of architects works with the homeowner on the design and details.  The house is build in a manufacturing facility, folded up and put on a semi flatbed.  The site is prepared with a foundation and when the house arrives, it is hoisted by a huge crane and then plopped down on the foundation.  It unfolds like a blooming flower -- it really is amazing -- and within days is ready for occupancy.  There's one in Chapel Hill -- and it was on the local Green Homes Tour a couple of years ago.

Manufactured homes long ago transcended the stereotypical "double-wide."  Manufacturers, such as Clayton Homes (a subsidy of Berkshire Hathaway), are making homes akin to the standard stick-build house.  However, many of the sales staff are, to be polite, a challenge.  No thanks.

Tightlinesdesigns offered cost-effective house plans that would be fairly basic to assemble -- since the goal was to provide sustainable and affordable housing and the concept has been tested and proven in revived neighborhoods in North Carolina and post-Katrina New Orleans.  But who would build it?

Other than some relatively modest home renovations, we've had no direct experience in construction.  As a journalist, I'd covered multi-million-dollar projects, including a facility in Tallahassee, Fla., plagued by design problems, political mismanagement and construction cost overruns.  I was designated the Nieman Foundation's liaison with Harvard University's construction offices, the architects and contractors on an addition and thorough renovation of the foundations home in a residential neighborhood adjacent to the campus.  That project came in on-time and on budget.

As with the public project, the building program for Harvard included putting bids out for the design and construction work.  Obviously, that wasn't how a small residential home gets built.  How do you find a good builder?  Where do you start when it's a community 125 miles away?  Ask those you know who are in the business how they'd do it.  "Go to the Lowe's or Home Depot, talk to the folks in the building materials department, they'll know." Was one bit of advice.  It was good.  "Check with lawyers who have real estate practices," was another piece of advice.  This was good, too, since lawyers would probably know who to avoid or facing lawsuits for bad work.  Talk to friends and family in the area.  With two brothers-in-law and a sister-in-law who've lived in the area since birth, they know everyone who's worth knowing and aren't shy about saying who isn't.

Bath (N.C.) High School in the early 20th Century

 We did all three and one name came up across the board: Anthony Singleton.  He's a Bath High School graduate -- a vanishing breed since the small school (Nancy's graduating class had 55 students)  was closed 25 years ago when Beaufort County consolidated its high schools.  His work is on display throughout the area.  The N.C. State Employees' Credit Union -- the folks financing the venture -- had worked with Anthony.

We made an appointment to meet at his office, located near Beaufort Community College on US 264 on the east side of Washington, N.C.  Prior to our meeting, we'd send him the house plans.  As we talked, it was clear he'd reviewed the materials and understood them and asked a lot of good questions about our expectations and desires.  We went to the site and walked extensively through it, discussing the roadway into the property, the specific site where the house would be built and several critical issues -- the high-water point, septic tank location and right-of-way for utilities.

   



   

It's about choices

Choices make a difference.  The right ones don't get much notice.  The wrong ones light up like the gaudiest neon sign at a down-and-out no-tell motel.  Talk to folks familiar with publicly-financed $33.8 million, 12,500-seat Donald L. Tucker Civic Center in Tallahassee, Fla.  It started out as an $18 million project.  Contrast that with the the Dean Smith Center in Chapel Hill, N.C. Construction was privately financed -- at $33.8 million.  It seats 21,700 -- just shy of twice the capacity as the Tucker center.   The folks in Tallahassee paid 42 percent more per seat for a lot less.

No matter what the scope of the project, choices aren't simply about money -- though money and how much of it is available have a lot to do with the choices available.  How to go about financing the project is one set of choices. Selections will influence: what to build; who will build it; the construction schedule; determine colors; hard-wood flooring or laminate; tile or linoleum; stone or Formica counter-tops; custom or stock cabinets; tank or tankless waterheating; gas or electric stove; metal or shingle roofing.  It even comes down to picking trees to be removed to make way for an access road.  None particularly exciting, but all and more -- very necessary.

One choice -- the site of the building, was determined by nature -- geography, geology and topography.  The Beaufort County Health Department's Environmental Health Section had to survey site conditions to determine where construction would accommodate the location of a septic tank.  No improvement permit, no construction.  In 2006, before having any idea of what kind of structure might get put up, Duck Creek property was reviewed and a specific allowable location for future construction was identified.

 WHAT TO BUILD?
Hank Wall has never given me bad advise.  Now, we once shared a lunch that ended up costing me $1,500, but that was a small cost for the wisdom he imparted and the good work that his crew did in building a closet in the "Craftsman" home we used to live in on Dixie Trail in Raleigh.  That small job was after he and his company, Wood Wise Design, rebuild the back third of the house -- remodeling the kitchen, laundry room, bedroom and bathroom.  It was all accomplished on time, on budget and while we continued to live in the house (the refrigerator and freezer were moved onto the front porch, microwave and toaster oven were in a corner of the living room with paper plates and Dixie Cups our dishes for about four months). Long before other builders were clued in, Hank developed a reputation for that went beyond fine craftsmanship.  He knew about the materials he used, what went into them and the fact that many people were affected by them.  He worked with those who had physical disabilities to design and build rooms, such as kitchens, that  accommodated individual needs -- the height of counters, appropriate fixtures and the width of doorways and other spaces -- for comfort and ease. Whether it is a simple renovation like a closet or a bigger project, Hank brings a very basic focus -- how can what we live in work with the lives we lead to in efficient, healthy and sustainable ways.  When it came time to figure out what to build, Hank was the first resource.  He suggested Tightlines Designs, a firm started by architect David Maurer.

TightLines Designs describes itself as "a socially responsible architecture firm whose mission is to provide eco-friendly, quality affordable housing design solutions. From single family community development to elderly and supportive multi-family housing, we are committed to creating great places to live." David Maurer, who describes himself as a marathon runner and fly fisherman, is the creative force behind the TightLines Designs concept.  "TightLines Designs originated to meet the growing need for quality small home designs that are community oriented, sustainable, historically appealing, and accessible. TightLines Designs is committed to designing quality homes that tread lightly on the environment, minimize energy costs, and are beneficial to the health of families," is how the company describes its mission on greenhomeguide.com. "We are proud to be part of the community of businesses who have joined with ENERGY STAR® to provide home designs that are energy efficient and reduce pollution. In addition to ENERGY STAR, we highly recommend participation in a green certification program to further ensure that new homes conserve energy, natural resources, and maintain optimal indoor air quality."

A home designed by TightLines became the first certified green home built by Habitat of Wake County in May 2010. A recent article in the Norfolk Virginian-Pilot described TightLines this way: "An architectural firm based in Raleigh, N.C. that provides designs for environmentally friendly and affordable homes. ... TightLines project manager Craig Bethel said the company typically does Victorians or bungalows to blend in with a neighborhood's existing homes."  It was October 2012 that we initially connected with TightLines about how the firm might be able to work with us.  Lindsay Locke, then the director of business development, directed us to the web pages with the various designs that had been developed and suggested calling back when we were ready to develop plans.

The description of the company's approach and the designs that were posted on the TightLines website gave us the confidence that the designs would be unique and the people there would be imaginative -- not force us to fit into a rigid, predetermined image of what we "should" want.  In December, we had our initial meeting -- most of our time was with Craig Bethel -- who very quickly understood our objectives, concerns -- including a limited budget -- and ambitions.  It was another seven months -- mostly spent pondering timing, finances and plans.  By July 2013 the concept had become the "Bath House Project."

Craig made it all simple.  Look at one of the plans we thought would fit our needs -- and what modifications we'd like to that plan to match our desires -- which were fairly modest -- an open kitchen and screened porch.   He worked through engineering issues; flood plain concerns; best choices for foundations; and more.  As he explained the various details -- and there are plenty -- he would always prepare us with "just bare with me" and then proceed to provide a very understandable explanation of a complicated detail.  Journalists could learn a thing or two.

TightLines Design "Winslow II"

We selected the the Winslow II, "a single story Folk Victorian style house of 1304 square feet featur(ing) a spacious living room, separate dining area and a private master bedroom suite with double closets. This open floor plan includes a total of three bedrooms, two full bathrooms, laundry area and centralized U-shaped kitchen with a breakfast bar that opens to the dining room. The historically inspired exterior offers a double gable roof with a side gable, wrap around front porch, covered rear porch, and exterior storage room." We expanded the interior space a bit and add a 16' by 15' screened porch.

Why a porch?  Part obvious practicality: Enjoy the outdoors without an invasion of uninvited alternative species visitors.  Another part -- sentimentality. From late spring to early fall, the porch in the back of the

Poughkeepsie, N.Y., by Laura Loth

Poughkeepsie, N.Y. house Seth grew up in, was the center of social activity and a refuge -- from a pestering parent and from the humid Hudson Valley summers in a home without air conditioning.

When we renovated the Dixie Trail house in Raleigh, we put a good-sized screened porch on that quickly became a favorite spot.  Today, the listed value of the house  is 355 percent more than what we paid for at the end of 1986. 

308 Dixie Trl., Raleigh, N.C., 1996

FINDING THE MONEY AND A BUILDER         
It's one thing to have a plan -- but it's just a piece of paper.  Executing the plan -- in this case building the house -- is a means another set of choices.  How and where to finance the whole thing.  More choices.  But, in this case, an easy one.  When we purchased our first house in Raleigh -- 308 Dixie Trail, we went back-and-forth with the seller on the price 10 times.  On the ninth exchange, we made our final offer -- telling the real estate agent, that even if it was one penny more -- we'd walk away.  And we meant it.  The seller met our offer -- with one condition.  It was early December, and to meet some tax issues, we had to close by the end of the year.  With all of the holidays, it seemed doubtful that it would happen.   But the good folks at the North Carolina State Employees Credit Union came through with the necessary inspections, surveys, and paper work, in a flash.  We closed with time to spare.  So, after deciding on the kind of loan we wanted for the Bath Project, the application was turned in at around 4 p.m. on a Thursday afternoon.  At 9:30 the next morning, I got the call our loan -- 15-year, fixed-rate -- was approved.  The quick work on the loan application left Nancy threatening to go to creditscoredating.com ("where good credit scores are sexy!") to seek future options.

NEXT: Picking a builder and getting started.


 


 

So it starts

The building and room Nancy and I sat in, on Friday March 28, 2014, as we signed the stack of legal papers marking the start of our Duck Creek project, once was the Fowle warehouse on the Pamlico River waterfront in Washington, N.C.   What today is Keith Mason's law office, more than 100 years ago was a commercial hub for eastern North Carolina where goods from round the nation and the world arrived.  In the days before our massive network of highways and overland trucking, the river was the main thoroughfare for commerce in this mostly rural part of the state where agriculture -- tobacco, soybeans, corn and cotton -- still dominates the economy.

About 13 miles down the river, just past Goose Creek State Park , flowing into the river from the north is Duck Creek.  According to William Powell's 'North Carolina Gazetteer,' the creek "rises in central Beaufort County and flows south into the Pamlico River.  Appears on the Collet map, 1770.  From Duck Creek, by

water it's about 55 miles to Ocracoke Island.  Overland, it's another story -- driving on N.C. 264 to Swan Quarter and then taking the ferry (one-way toll is $3 for a bike, $15 for a car) to Ocracoke.

About 20 years ago, Nancy and I mentioned to her father, the late William M. Thomas, if he was so inclined, we'd be interested in purchasing a couple of acres of the land -- a part of a farm he owned on Duck Creek, near where his two sons, Bill and John, had homes.  Expressing no inclination one way or the other, he said he'd think it over.   In May of 1995, without any advance notice, a letter arrived from the Mayo & Mayo law firm in Washington, N.C. to Nancy.  "Enclosed is the Deed of Gift from your father as to  the ... Duck Creek parcel of land ..." Regardless of our insistence to the contrary, Nancy's father was steadfast on the very generous gift.  It has a view down the creek looking out to the Pamlico River. 

Over the years, we worked on our own to clear a portion of the site -- thinking after leasing horses; tuition for private schools and colleges, and a hiatus in Cambridge, Mass. from 2001 through 2004 -- we'd build something.Clearing land is this area of the state is like taking on the rain forest.  Over the years, we did make some progress.  The main lesson learned, for me, was that those who otherwise ignore your every utterance, suddenly become very attentive when you have a roaring chainsaw in your hands.  We'd managed to make pretty good progress and thought we were pretty much set and ready to build.   In late August 2011, Hurricane Irene hit.  Irene was a Category 1 hurricane, with winds between 74 and 95 mph, when it made landfall at Cape Lookout on the Outer Banks on Aug. 27, 2011. It tore through Highway 12, cutting off Hatteras Island from the mainland and stranding those who'd ignored mandatory evacuation orders.  On the area we'd cleared, a half dozen trees came down, including one that would have flattened a structure, had there been one where we'd planned to build.

So, our first task after signing the papers that get this building project started -- walking the site, identifying trees to be removed (in addition to those Irene pushed over). 
NEXT: It's about choices