Neighborhood Creepfest
The Dallas Morning News did an excellent series about this mansion that's located a few blocks from my house on Swiss Avenue. Essentially, the story is everybody's worst probate law nightmare --- the family is fighting a couple of antique dealers who allegedly got their hooks in the elderly lady who lived there and got her to sign over the house just before she died. It's a mess.
So last weekend, there was an estate sale at the old lady's mansion. I really didn't want to buy anything --- not even a souvenir, which I assume the lines of people waiting to get in wanted. The recent articles about the house in the paper certainly brought out the crowds --- somebody had even posted the stories on the front porch of those who hadn't seen them to read. All I wanted was the chance to a peek at the 1917 three story brick Prairie-style house because I'd heard that it is totally unchanged from the day it was built.
Through all of my real estate hunts in which I've looked at hundreds of historic homes, I've found that the purest examples are always the houses owned by either old ladies or people who could barely afford them. The reason is neither of those types of people are likely to go on wild remodeling sprees and fuck the house up beyond recognition. That's happened to most of the houses on Swiss, where if the grand homes weren't cut up for apartments in the 1940s, they were ruined by wealthy people who tore out the original mosaic tile out of the bathrooms because they didn't like the color, painted over stained woodwork, or put a bunch of stupid looking cabinets in the kitchen when the street got popular again in the 1980s.
The lady who owned this house was both old and unable to afford to change anything --- which had some bad consequences. She couldn't afford basic repairs so the roof is in terrible shape, the porch overhang is about to collapse from wood rot, and water leaks inside have caused the plaster to fall from the ceiling, especially in the dining room. But the inside of the house --- oh my.
The mahogany floors have never been refinished and are in good shape. The woodwork on the staircase and banisters are amazing. There are tiled fireplaces in just about every room. The bathrooms are untouched. Nobody tried to make the kitchen fancy (rich people never spent time in their kitchens, only the help did, so food prep areas were always minimal). And there are painted frescos on the walls of the parlor that are stunning. As far of visions of restoring the house, you don't have to imagine what it should be like because everything is there ---- all of the fixtures, chandeliers, built in cabinets, tile work. There's even a ballroom on the third floor that is rumored still be decorated for a child's party from the late 1940's (we weren't allowed on the top floor or in the basement). But the place is absolutely filthy --- it doesn't look like anything has been cleaned since 1952. The upstairs tiled shower is covered in grime, there was water on the floor from a leaking fridge, and the carpet on the stairway was rather gross. I would have taken pictures inside, but there were people everywhere screwing up any potential for decent photos.
My next door neighbors who have restored their 1925 house to a condition that is likely better than when the place was new think it would take $700,000 to properly restore the Swiss house. I think that's an insane overestimation. But as I was leaving the house, I made a mental checklist of everything that would have to be done to the place, just like every time I leave a historic house that's for sale. I imagined myself painting every room, repairing wood work and cleaning everything to a high shine like I did at my place. And I imagined in that Swiss Avenue house, I'd be at it for a good three years.
That made me tired and glad I have no means to acquire this house.
So last weekend, there was an estate sale at the old lady's mansion. I really didn't want to buy anything --- not even a souvenir, which I assume the lines of people waiting to get in wanted. The recent articles about the house in the paper certainly brought out the crowds --- somebody had even posted the stories on the front porch of those who hadn't seen them to read. All I wanted was the chance to a peek at the 1917 three story brick Prairie-style house because I'd heard that it is totally unchanged from the day it was built.
Through all of my real estate hunts in which I've looked at hundreds of historic homes, I've found that the purest examples are always the houses owned by either old ladies or people who could barely afford them. The reason is neither of those types of people are likely to go on wild remodeling sprees and fuck the house up beyond recognition. That's happened to most of the houses on Swiss, where if the grand homes weren't cut up for apartments in the 1940s, they were ruined by wealthy people who tore out the original mosaic tile out of the bathrooms because they didn't like the color, painted over stained woodwork, or put a bunch of stupid looking cabinets in the kitchen when the street got popular again in the 1980s.
The lady who owned this house was both old and unable to afford to change anything --- which had some bad consequences. She couldn't afford basic repairs so the roof is in terrible shape, the porch overhang is about to collapse from wood rot, and water leaks inside have caused the plaster to fall from the ceiling, especially in the dining room. But the inside of the house --- oh my.
The mahogany floors have never been refinished and are in good shape. The woodwork on the staircase and banisters are amazing. There are tiled fireplaces in just about every room. The bathrooms are untouched. Nobody tried to make the kitchen fancy (rich people never spent time in their kitchens, only the help did, so food prep areas were always minimal). And there are painted frescos on the walls of the parlor that are stunning. As far of visions of restoring the house, you don't have to imagine what it should be like because everything is there ---- all of the fixtures, chandeliers, built in cabinets, tile work. There's even a ballroom on the third floor that is rumored still be decorated for a child's party from the late 1940's (we weren't allowed on the top floor or in the basement). But the place is absolutely filthy --- it doesn't look like anything has been cleaned since 1952. The upstairs tiled shower is covered in grime, there was water on the floor from a leaking fridge, and the carpet on the stairway was rather gross. I would have taken pictures inside, but there were people everywhere screwing up any potential for decent photos.
My next door neighbors who have restored their 1925 house to a condition that is likely better than when the place was new think it would take $700,000 to properly restore the Swiss house. I think that's an insane overestimation. But as I was leaving the house, I made a mental checklist of everything that would have to be done to the place, just like every time I leave a historic house that's for sale. I imagined myself painting every room, repairing wood work and cleaning everything to a high shine like I did at my place. And I imagined in that Swiss Avenue house, I'd be at it for a good three years.
That made me tired and glad I have no means to acquire this house.
posted by john clarke at 6:14 PM
1 Comments:
Dang, I wish we would have realized there was an estate sale at that house. I know the house you're talking about and would have loved to have seen the inside. We moved over to Junius. Hope to see you sometime soon. Ashley
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