…And We’re Back: Part III---‘Tis the (Festival) Season

All the while, the Louisiana festival season was gearing up, coloring this process with points of joy and frustration. In New Orleans, and Louisiana in general, there’s always an excuse/reason to celebrate. There is a pint glass from a local bar that reads: “There are 365 days in a year. There are 427 scheduled festivals in Louisiana.” So, we like to celebrate, it’s what we do.

Have a strange local vegetable? Mirliton Festival

Take pride in local strawberries? Pontchatoula Stawberry Festival (and delicious, delicious beer)

Love your neighborhood? Freret Street Festival

Celebrating a local street musician? Chaz Fest

Funeral? Parade

Christening? Parade

Wedding? Parade

I’m bored… Parade

It’s Tuesday? Parade

That famous Tuesday that is known for being “Fat” was also fast approaching. So while the festival season was blooming and Mardi Gras was gearing up, an old friend whom I mentioned the project to decided he would take up the task of helping me, seeming to spring into town in keeping with the season.

Colin and I met while serving as interns at the Yestermorrow Design/Build School and became friends while doing the day-to-day work at the school. We seemed to have a rapport that was complimentary, my skills and experience in building were nowhere near his, but I could sometimes add a creative spark that would get us both going on a project. One of our more auspicious moments in Vermont was our spearheading of the building of the Yestermorrow 4^th of July float (My primal New Orleans/Mardi Gras float building desire had been awoken). It was a task that we interns had kind of put off to the very last minute, fretting about what we were going to do. In a moment of inspiration (and inebriation), I think a student/friend said, “You guys should make some giant battle-wheel, and wheel it through town like a marauding Viking thing.”

I don’t know if it was Colin or myself who paused and stared for a moment. All I know is that the next day, we set about designing and building a WHEEL. This contraption came together through sheer intern grit, trash, pilfering old barn parts, and a couple pieces of new wood.

The product of days in the shop and an all-nighter on July 3-4 was a people powered, 10 foot tall, two wheeled dynamo that we wheeled through town, controlling it with an off-centered gear. It was an amazing day.

I needed help on this project, and I had hoped I would be able to get a former partner in on it.

Before he even got into town, I had set Colin on drafting up the extra things we needed to submit to the city. He and Jared piggy backed on each other’s work and were able to get a good set of requirements together. When Colin did finally get to town, he, Tony, and I were on the phone and emailing each other constantly.

We finally produced a product that we hoped would be good enough to satisfy the City, and we met at Tony’s office to review and stamp them.

Tony: “They usually try and send it back with some questions, so we’ll have to wait and see what they say.”

Stamping Tool: “KAH-CHUNK”

Tony: “Hopefully we won’t have to submit a whole new set of drawings if they have an issue with something, usually it can be handled with a letter explaining some more details.”

Stamping Tool: “KAH-CHUNK”

Me: “You think they’ll kick it back for revisions?

Tony: “They could…they kind of like to in order to show that they’re doing their job.”

Stamping Tool: “KAH-CHUNK”

I zipped down to City Hall again and went to submit the drawings. From the day we had received the “STOP WORK” order, it had been three weeks. I went up to the permit office and did the foreign bus station dance again. This time, I got a younger officer who filed the plans and was very studious and efficient about it.

Officer: “We should be able to give you a call sometime in the next few days about the status of your application.”

Me: “So there’s probably no way to have this done today or tomorrow.”

Officers: “It’s going straight to Zoning now, and Plan Review should be done with it in a couple of days.”

Me: (sigh)…”Cool.”

I walked out of City Hall dissatisfied, but unsurprised. I texted my parents to let them know that we had submitted again and that we had to wait a little more, in the hope that we could start building again.

My father, ever the Latin/legal mind, replied:

“Ora Pro Nobis”

I replied:

“In Nomeni Patri”

...And We're Back: Part II

I have a crazy amount of close friends who are architects. In 10 seconds, I was able to name 10 architects who are close friends or acquaintances. My first call was to a friend who goes all the way back to my first year at Tulane, and has since become one of my best friends: Steve.

I explained the situation, and though he said he could help, I would have to get everything drafted by an engineer or licensed architect. Architects have to take about 7 tests before they are fully licensed, and Steve had completed about 5 of them. Although he knew what needed to be done, legally he could not do it. We needed someone who was skilled and had the ability to verify and stamp drawings.

It was then that I turned to a friend who is probably the one of the most awesome persons I know, both in terms of intelligence and in passion for life in New Orleans: Tony. Tony is a brilliant engineer (bordering on savant), who teaches engineering at the University of New Orleans while also running his own engineering firm with his wife. Additionally, Tony has always been a fixture at “Porchfest,” an event which is held every day of Jazzfest at another engineer friend’s house right next to the Fairgrounds. I admit, the inclination and drive for pushing my parents to buy this house stemmed from a sense of jealousy at my friend’s location and lifestyle when Jazzfest came around. I realized that the convergence of Jazzfest and an opportunity to utilize my brilliant friends’ talents was becoming apparent.

I contacted Tony, he was eager to take on the task and arrived at the house the following Monday to look at what we had already built. In his opinion, we were doing all the right things, he just needed to calculate the loads so as assure that we were good to go. He set about drawing, drafting, and calculating loads and verifying that we were in good territory. Over a series of days, we exchanged calls, emails, drafts, and drawings, all the while discussing the intricacies of the permitting process.

Tony: “What happened? What did they have a problem with?”

Me: “I don’t know, it was the dormer addition that they zeroed in on and wrote us up for that.”

Tony: “The engineering is fine on the dormer, and anyone who can see what you’re doing knows that you’re building it right----Someone must have called in to complain.”

A lightning bolt of paranoia struck me. Why did someone call? Who called us in? Was it the old lady across the street who’s been super-uber sweet and lived in the neighborhood for decades? Was it the green developers and their young families across the street who’ve been incredibly supportive and enthusiastic while we’ve been working? What about the nice artist neighbors who’ve offered to help paint the house and lent us electricity for our tools? What about all the contractors and neighbors who’ve stopped by to compliment us and offer their services? What about the surly, absentee owner of the property right next door who I’ve called to inform him of what we’re doing with the house and offered to cut the grass on his empty lot?....Wait.

At this point, you’re thinking, “BING BING BING! Johnny, tell him what he’s won!” However, I give people the benefit of the doubt. Although in the few times I have spoken to this person on the phone he’s been the most tactless jerk-wad on the face of earth when I offered a little assistance, I was still able to speak cordially and convey that I was just renovating my parents’ house and was trying to introduce myself in order to get in his good graces. I’m not saying he’s the one who called, or for that matter that anyone called, but…the jury is still out. Whatever, it’s in the past, I have no judgments about it.

Tony explained that he’s seen similar situations many times before, with the city clamping down on a project should a neighbor call to complain or if it’s in a particularly high trafficked area. As I learned later on, the neighborhood is rife with people who love to call in. At times, that is an inconvenience, but it also means that people are concerned about the well-being of the neighborhood, which is great.

At that point, I was in quite unfamiliar territory. I was even in territory relatively unexplored by George and Albert in all their building experiences. I knew I was building things right, I just didn’t know if it would satisfy Safety and Permits, the HDLC, or some other party. If something didn’t jog right with an inspector or someone down at Plan Review, I was going to be screwed. And not the good kind of screwed.

I had actually gone back to City Hall the day after I had originally gone down to see what the matter was. I was there to talk to Ms. Crux and get some clarification on what we actually needed to have in order to get the project rolling again. She was a little more pleasant on this go around, and she led me into the Plan Review/Processing office, where I was able to talk to a young plan reviewer. This guy was helpful and understanding, but he told it to me straight in that he saw similar situations all the time.

He explained that typically, in New Orleans rehabs/renovations/re-imaginations, people just start discovering more work as they tear out drywall, replace studs, and replace sils. He said he could tell we were trying to do the right thing by replacing rotten stuff, but I just needed to go through some more steps to make it right so that the City would be okay with it. I felt like this guy would understand my plight, so I was confident and upbeat.

Steve got busy with architect work, so he could not commit his time to our expedited schedule. I then tapped my other architect friend, Jared, to advise on what things I needed to add and how to present these things to the city. Keep in mind: All these architects were not let go or fired, they just came in where they were needed and appropriate, like musicians building or playing a song. Jack began and captured the theme, Steve came in to play his brilliant solo, Jared came in with rhythm, and it was then that I needed to add some more spice and melody to the design song/gumbo.

It was at this point in the story where an old friend came into town to help: Colin.

...And We're Back: Part I

As the old song goes, “After all my hard travelin’…things is ‘bout comin’ my way.”

We got our damn permit back.

The story of the last six weeks could probably be an entirely separate blog in and of itself, but I will do my best to tell the story, full of pomp, circumstance, embellishment, and artistic license. On February 1^st, I came out to the house to find a “STOP WORK” order on the house. I was not that worried at the time, as I figured it was that someone had called to ask about why this house was getting a dormer, or just called in to exercise their self-importance. On the stop work order was the number of the inspector’s office, which I immediately called. The inspector was very cordial and told me,

I: “Yeah, you just went beyond the scope of what your permit said.”

Me: “So, can I just come down there and expand the permit?”

I: “Of course, just come on down to city hall and we’ll set you straight.”

I thought, well, I’ll probably have to pay a fee for this, but no big deal. I looked more closely at the permit and the HDLC certificate, and in the permit, it did not spell out the dormer addition that we were currently engaged in putting up. I figured that the person who wrote up the original permit just neglected to put in the dormer part, so although I was a little suspicious, I was not too frustrated, as the people down at the permit office have to deal with a lot of crap. Maybe they just forgot to put it in there.

I went down to city hall and had to wait in line again, taking about an hour to actually see the inspector who wrote up the stop work order. The inspector told me what it was I needed to do, and took me from the inspectors’ room to the zoning/permit issuance room. I have to say, I don’t know how permitting is in other jurisdictions, but the entire experience of the office of Safety and Permits is akin to something I experienced while traveling abroad. There is very little semblance of order and procedure, you walk in and tell them what you want to do or who you need to see, and depending on any number of factors, you’ll be told probably 5 different things. Then someone will invariably take your hand and try to lead you through it. It was almost like I was back in those bus, train, and taxi cab stations in Europe and the Middle East, trepidatiously trusting a person I just met to tell me what I needed to do.

I plopped down in front of Ms. Crux (not her real name), and she started typing on her computer, asking me questions, but never looking away from her screen. Finally, she picked up my permit and said, “You didn’t submit drawings.”

Me: “Well, I had drawings, why didn’t someone ask for them?”

Crux: “I don’t know. But you need to submit drawings.”

I thought I could get the drawings we had to them, but then she continued talking, detailing the amount of detail we needed to get in order to satisfy the office of Safety and Permits.

Crux: “Your camelback needs to have drawings in high detail, because it’s new construction.”

Me: “It’s not a camelback, it’s a dormer.”

Crux: “The inspector says it’s a camelback.”

Me: “Okay. So what do you need?”

Does anyone remember Arlo Guthrie’s song Alice’s Restaurant? There’s a point in this song where an army recruitment officer starts talking about the requirements for a certain piece of paperwork at breakneck speed. Guthrie simply trails off and tells the audience “45 minutes…he talked like that and no one understood a word he was sayin’.” She explained to me that I needed to submit new drawings, stamped by a licensed architect or engineer, detailing the plans in high detail. Jack had drawn up great plans, but they were nowhere near the detail that the city needed. I was literally going to have to go back to the drawing board.

Arlo Guthrie was confused by that army recruiter. That’s how I felt. Well, at that point it wasn’t satirical, as in the song. It was pure insanity at that point. It was only 5-10 minutes, but the amount of work I had to go back and do was daunting. Suddenly, the entire project had stopped, and I realized that I had no idea when it could get back online. I thought building the house itself was going to be the hardest part. It was pleading for it and justifying it which was going to be monumental…thus far.

I walked out of the permit office thinking I had just stepped into a dark pit, where most projects go when they aren’t carefully planned and when something invariably goes wrong. I knew that with my luck, something like this was bound to happen, but I had just put it out of my mind until it actually happened. I had tried to plan ahead for this, but I had missed something.

So, what next?

Call your architect friends, that’s what.

A Tome Is Coming

Seriously, the story of the last month is going to be a damn made for TV original movie. We are almost done with this permitting stuff, but I want to wait until it's good and done to process and write about it. And let me tell you, I might need more writers to fully tell the story. IT'S UNREAL.

Anyway, in other news, picked up the windows yesterday (WOOT)...Get excited people, Fetehaus is about to start rolling again...