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Remodel Project
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| 1920's Construction
1920's houses have always been my favorite to work on. There is
an honesty in their construction, and I continually marvel at the
craftsmanship and manual labor that went into one of these houses.
Old timers still tell me about watching a carpenter cut all the studs
and blocks by hand, how some kid with a lath hatchet and a mouthful of
lath nails would nail lath strips over every wall surface, inside and out,
making it look like a skeleton. Plumbers would have pots of molten
lead to make the lead and oakum joints on the cast iron drains.
Holes for the wiring were drilled with a brace and bit, and painters
sometimes mixed their own paint from white lead and linseed oil.
Plasterers would have a mountain of plaster on a board to apply to the
walls, and a hod carrier would carry the wet plaster on his shoulder up to
the second floor. Concrete was mixed with a hoe in a big trough, and
some of these houses even came as a kit from Sears Honor-bilt to the local
train station, with everything included such as glass, putty, stain, and
sandpaper.
However, when watching old movies on construction such as Mr.
Blandings Builds His Dream House, it's amazing how much hasn't
changed at all. But take a look at the following photos of
techniques and materials that are in the distant past.
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| The pantry was almost a functioning appliance. There
was a small crawlspace underneath with a vent in the floor, and a vent in
the ceiling that penetrated the roof. Cool air from the crawlspace
was drawn up through the pantry that had lattice shelves, and exited the
ceiling vent. The brown bricks are adobe, which acted as a thermal
mass, absorbing the coolness and maintaining a constant temperature.
There was a 6" thick slab of adobe on the ceiling also. We
pulled the bricks out and dumped them out back, and they have melted into
mud.
The adobe must have held some moisture, as the termites said
"Yahoo!". All the studs, especially the corner studs, are
riddled with termites. The plaster was basically holding it up. |
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| The fireplace was constructed of unlined, soft brick with
lime mortar (used soft lime for a binding agent instead of strong Portland
cement). It protruded 13' past the roofline and wiggled back and
forth when I pushed on it, something alarming in earthquake country.
I hate to dispel the myth that chimney sweeps are needed in Southern
California, but it doesn't get cold enough here (0 degrees) for creosote
to condense inside the chimney. Still, it is wise to get it
inspected for damage, and if it is older than 50 years, it will possible
tumble in an earthquake, as they do not contain any rebar. |
View from inside the firebox looking up the chimney. Notice the
lack of creosote, even after years of use.
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| The roof was framed with 2x4's spaced 24", way over spanned
for today's code. The underside of the skip sheathing was covered
with shingle nails, which means that the lumber for this house was
salvaged from a building that was torn down before 1925. This lumber
must be well over 100 years old. Someone pulled the skip sheathing off,
and instead of pulling all the nails, just flipped it upside down and
nailed it on this roof. |
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| The floor joists were a mishmash of thicknesses and
widths. They were either shimmed up or notched out where they passed
over the girder to make a flat surface for the floor. |
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| Plumbing under the floor must have been a nightmare for the
1920's plumber. The "U" shape pipe is the lead trap for
the bathtub. |
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| 1920's wiring consisted of separate wires suspended on
ceramic knobs, and where they passed through framing, the hole was lined
with a ceramic tube, thus giving the name "knob and tube
wiring". It works well as long as not subject to physical
damage or blown in insulation in the attic. |
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| Since plaster walls have little shear value (resisting
side-to-side forces), the walls are extensively braced with "X"
blocking. These filled every wall, inside and out, and were all cut
by hand. |
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| To span large openings, a site-built truss was used instead
of solid lumber as today. This took a lot of time and skill to
fabricate. |
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| This eroded bank shows the 12" square footing that
supports the floor. Round rock and sand inside the footing shows
that the builders used river sand (possibly collected by the
builder) instead of sharp crushed sand for the concrete. |
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| Plywood in 1925 was either expensive or non-existent.
Instead, tongue-and-grove boards were used to cover places like
sub-flooring and roof overhangs. |
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| 1920's 2x4, left, and modern 2x4, right. The modern
2x4 has 11 growth rings, and was cut from a tree farm from a fast-growing
tree. The 1920's 2x4 has 85 growth rings and was cut from a
humongous, ancient Douglas Fir tree (with an ax or whipsaw, as chainsaws
were still a ways off). The 1920's lumber is very strong and
contains few knots. I'm milling some of the large floor joists into
window sash. |
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| Here and there are marks from the original builders.
The back of this scrap has penciled calculations for the number of roof
shingles. Blue chalk marks on studs call out dimensions or
placement. Ties like this to the past are wonderful to find. |
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| This broken folding rule was in a wall cavity. It is
extremely thin and delicate, and I bet they broke all the
time. |
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| This 1974 British newspaper was used to insulate the family
room addition. It is about a columnist who accepts weekly challenges
from readers to do something "fun and breezy". Here she
drives a Chieftain tank in a race against army wives, and her tank develops
engine trouble. The British army jokingly sends her a repair bill
for 5,626 Pounds and 11 pence. |
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| Even the utility beams were made of tight, knot-free
old-growth Douglas fir. The 4x3 in the top photo was cut from a 16'
long beam that spanned the basement, and was surprisingly heavy. A
slice of cross-section revealed that it was old-growth fir, and I was able
to machine the window stock for the gable end window from it. (bottom
photo) |
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