Even though this was one of the first curiosities we found in the house–it hangs right in the middle of the second floor hallway so it's real hard to miss–it took me forever to discover what it means.
This is the original electric box for the house. Just like the fuse box of old, or the breaker box you use now, this was where electricity to outlets and fixtures in the house was controlled. Albeit, everything turned off all at once by flipping that cartoon-like electric handle, there, in the top-middle of the box (I swear I remember seeing Bugs Bunny flip one of those in the cartoons of my childhood.) One electric contractor said its still hot and confirmed that there is some active Knob & Tube in the house.
One of the mysteries about this box was what the pink label meant. OK, I knew it was an inspection sticker, but was there a story to it and what was that handwriting scrawled up the middle of the door?
With a lot of time and research I found out that the Ransdell's owned the house from 1948-1951. They ran an upholstery shop out of it at that time. Someone, presumably a child, wrote their name right through the middle of the door.
The date the house was built was declared a mystery because of a fire at the records office. Well, with some additional in depth research I discovered that the property the house sits on was compiled through several purchases from 1901-1906. A portion of the total property was sold to a neighbor in April 1908. Now, I suspect that that lot of land would not have been sold after the house was built since it moved the property line to only 7 feet from the house, but immediately before building began. Assuming that the Oct. 1908 date on the inspection sticker was added during the final stages of building (when then, like now, you would have had a utilities inspector check the electricians handiwork and sign off on it). I can surmise that the house was built between April and October, 1908.
Kind of a cool finding from the old electric box. Now if I can only figure out what it means every time the ghost opens the box (yeah, while I work from home, and am home totally alone, on numerous occasions, the box would be closed and latched, I'd go upstairs to work and upon coming back down the stairs, the door would be full open. Hasn't happened in a while, but still ....
|You know how it is, you start to tear things apart and suddenly remember you never took the "before" photos. These are the best BEFORE photos I have.|
a "marble-esque" plastic sink
two faux-chrome plastic sconces with creepy, blue-swirl shades
thick dripping strands of caulk slathered into cracks like a 7-year-old globbing icing onto a cake
a press-board sink cabinet so cheap it's not even worth calling it "pressed"
a sheet vinyl floor whose edges have curled and chipped, like an old woman's untrimmed toe-nails; yellowed by nicotine and stuffed with dust and crud around the edges
This was the powder room we inherited.
I know many of you faced this uglienss, too. We lived with it for as long as we could but knew that bleach can only do so much.
It was in 1952 that the Harris family ripped out the back stair case (on blustery, stormy nights I can still hear the stairs scream as they are dragged through the hall to awaiting garbage cans) and installed a half-bath for Mrs. Harris' mother, Diddie, a seamstress who was unable to climb the stairs to the second floor bathroom.
|So you don't have to wait too long to see it ... Here's the AFTER ...|
I debated, albeit for only 10 minutes, to reinstall the stairs and get rid of this room.
|The mirror is great. I left the medicine cabinet in place and simply added a new, square mirror and frame. Of course I saved the old early 1950's arched-top mirror. Ill find a place for it one day.|
The plan was to install some kind of "vintage-y" bathroom: Something that would fit in with the more formal first floor space and not embarrass us in front of our guests. The house is, or will be, very colorful: A rich green dining room, vibrant terra cotta center hall, glowing gold and deep peacock blue parlor. It seemed that a gentle-colored bathroom would be a great respite. It also would be in keeping with the history of the house, since the turn-of-the-century, known as the "sanitary period" since cleaning was a high priority, promoted bathrooms that used white tile and porcelain and could easily be cleaned.
|Just another view of the horrific sink. I bet it couldn't have cost more than $18.50 when new.|
I chose two different pale grey paint colors for wall and trim, and planned to use painted Anaglypta wallpaper below a high dado rail, which would be a continuation of the windowsill about the rest of the room. White marble floors and sink, a white porcelain "Victorian-inspired" toilet that didn't require 8 gallons of water per flush, brushed nickel fixtures and antique oil lamps should round out the room.
|Yes, that's the original 1952 baseboard sitting in a pile by the door. It will not be missed.|
Armed with only a short pry bar, a hammer and a small paint scraper I attacked the room one morning. I don't even think I had had my morning coffee.
The baseboards were easy -- they were attached with short finishing nails. Reaching into the sink cabinet I turned off the water and disconnected the faucet hoses. I unscrewed the "p" trap and disconnected the drain assembly so I could remove the sink and cabinet.
I carefully ran the paint scraper all around the edges of the cabinet and sink back, feeling for nails, or glue, or screws, or anything that would need to be removed to pull out the cabinet.
I looked at, and then jiggled, the cabinet and sink assembly ... let me correct that ... I EASILY jiggled the sink and cabinet ... and in the process lifted it right off the ground. Ahh, thanks to some less-than-handy PO's that did nothing to actually attach it ... good job guys ... I saved a few minutes of work.
I don't shock easily in this place, anymore. Most of the time when I uncover something I grit my teeth and stomp into the basement to get another tool or drive out to Lowes to get more stuff, to undo the stupidity of the PO's. But you just gotta love the groovy Marsha Brady rug I found under the sink cabinet. "Marsha, Marsha, Marsha."
OK, sink out, baseboards out, toilet waiting for the plumber to remove. On to the floor.
|Cement board going in to lay the tile. The black glue remnant is from what I suppose is the original linoleum floor tiles. The wood is just plywood layed over the basement ceiling joists.|
I took a stab at it and it was not too hard. There was vinyl over vinyl over what I think was probably linoleum over wood. I don't think any of it dated to 1908 when the house was built. Maybe, I don't know. It looks old from the basement side, but remember, this was a staircase till 1952, so if this is original wood, it was more of a basement ceiling than a floor. No matter, we got marble tile to lay over it.
The toilet came out without incident and the tile floor went in fairly well. I didn't do either since I HATE plumbing and "someone" thinks I can't lay tile ... (grumble)
|Sparkling white. The new honed marble floor makes the room look better, even if nothing else is ever done.|
So let me pick up after the new toilet, a model I found completely unobjectionable while checking out new toilets at Lowes, went in.
|That toilet from Lowes. I do love the antique-looking oval tank and the vintage flared foot under the bowl.|
|Static for almost 2 months, the bathroom awaits a sink, clad in cardboard and old towels to keep the floor from scratching while I worked.|
I have a beautiful white marble sink top, circa 1880-1890. It's great. It just needs a bowl. It has a few stains, a great patina, beautiful finish, soft and aged, just the way I like it. In fact, the marble floor was special ordered to match the sink. I found a "old-timey" plumber to even repair the old faucets for it. I processed how to install this sink for months. I had the wall-hung brackets and a plan, BUT, the risk of someone leaning on the front edge of the wall-hung sink, which has no legs to support the free front edge, and it falling to the ground breaking plumbing, causing a broken hip, was all too great. So after some online research, I begrudgingly ordered the pedestal sink that matched the quite acceptable toilet from Lowes (special order, 4 week wait, no problem ...).
After 2 weeks I called to see how the order was going. They tracked the sink back to the warehouse in China. It was one of 23 sinks they had in stock and it was being shipped out that week. It should only be a week or so till we had it. One week short of the month estimate.
3 weeks later ... still no sink. We called a few times in between and were told the sink was on its way. Got a little angry and called some more: no sink. Got angrier still and called and, well, here's where it gets interesting. The manufacturer no longer makes the sink. It no longer makes the sink that the warehouse had 23 of a few weeks before and was shippign one to us the next day and .... No longer makes the sink still listed on several websites for sale.
Lowes offered us an alternative, as if they had choices ... choose any sink at the same price. Hmm ...
That sink was $119. American Standard makes a nearly matching sink, albeit, considerably larger, but nearly identical in design. (I tend to think the one we originally ordered was the low-end rip off of the American Standard). American Standard's sink is about $400. Really, what would YOU do?
|mmmmm ... sink ... see that the oval top matches the toilet tank and they share the same flared foot. I LOVE THIS SINK.|
When we picked up the sink we got a new faucet, American Standard brushed nickel and again, kind of vintage looking. It also repeated the shape of the sink's pedestal.
|Again, the AFTER shot. The brass cup holder will be replated in nickel as soon as I save all my pennies.|
Meanwhile, back in the bathroom ... I was busy hanging the Anaglypta, painting the walls, ceiling and wallpaper. I applied a wash of grey paint over the textured Anaglypta, which you need to paint since it's uncoated paper, and wiped it off so it stayed only in the recesses of the wallpaper.
I also had to mill all the wood trim for the room since none of the trim in the house is still manufactured. Thank god dad sent out his old Porter Cable router. I came up with baseboard, dado cap and window and door trim that I found easy enough to make, but also complimented the other woodwork in the house. The baseboard was the trickiest, but it is similar to the original baseboard of the stairs in the house. I could not find, or afford ($200), a one-inch reverse-ogee router bit, which is what I needed to match the top of the original baseboard. I came up with something similar by overhanging a 1/2 inch round over bit so it rounded off the sharp top edge while it cut a groove just below. I may like it more than the original baseboards.
|A turn-of-the-last-century cup and toothbrush holder I have had for years. It is brass and had been nickel plated. I also found it for sale in the 1897 Sears Catalog.|
The light fixtures are old oil lamp brackets that I wired and hung on the electric boxes using custom drilled metal box cover plates. They were tough to hang since they are really heavy.
|Antique (1880) Bradley and Hubbard cast iron oil lamps. The milk-glass shades are also period and I think original to the lamps. I stay up at night worrying that they will break. I ordered the electric "burners" from Antique Lamp Supply. I just wish they were nickel, or at least a silver-ish color.|
Finally, the first floor half-bath looks like it belongs in the house. I am very pleased with its timeless design and lack of color (although I have already cleaned the white floor about a million times ...).