Come With Me If You Want to Live (Comfortably and Cozily)

We built up the floor system and started installing a sub-floor to provide stability, an air/vapor barrier, and a safe surface on which to continue work.

As mentioned before, Albert and I debated the trade-offs in pulling up the floors. We decided on pulling them up because it would not only allow us to evaluate the condition of the flooring materials, but also allow better access to the foundation and let us to lay down a solid sub-floor, with all the advantages mentioned before.

The beautiful wood floors that are in many New Orleans houses have but one drawback: They were installed directly onto the floor joists, and all the seams between these boards are air and vapor gaps. Building wisdom used to be to let the house "breathe," but now, houses are tighter and need to have mechanical components to ventilate and regulate airflow...kind of like a cyborg. Utilities are now beginning to offer "smart" meters that turn off unnecessary appliance operations when peak power rates are in effect in order to reduce utility costs. One wonders if this is when Skynet becomes self aware...

The new sub-floor became our new canvas to work on, but it also offers potential future benefits beneath it. I plan on using spray foam to insulate the house, but before doing the floor joists, I want to install something in order to plan for the future: Radiant Tubing.

Currently, due to the usage patterns we can foresee for the house for the next couple years, an on-demand tankless gas water heater makes the most financial sense. I install solar hot water systems, and want to do one here, but for the foreseeable future, we'd just be solar heating water that wouldn't go to use. So for now, the water will be heated when it's needed. The tubing will be for when the house is occupied for longer terms. When appropriate, we can hook up the radiant tubing to a solar storage tank, and possibly a solar evaporative cooler, to provide radiant heating and cooling in the floor system.

...All That Junk Inside Your Trunk.

The back of the house, the "butt," was one of the first casualties of the new demolition process. But, the butt would be reclaimed as the central focus of the house once renovation was complete. When it came off, we ass-essed the state of other parts of the structure, and found that our bottom line was still good...okay, enough with the butt jokes.

The back of the house looked like the picture above before...

...and then this after...

Shortly thereafter, the new rear end started being framed up...

The picture above is looking towards the north, in what will be part of the kitchen. As an historical aside, as we framed this floor system and pulled up all the floors, we discovered the old base of the 4-sided chimney that used to service this house. I've seen this a couple times in my house gutting/renovating experience; these chimneys would warm the respective rooms from the corners. As this house was originally a double, both sides each had two rooms that could be heated by this chimney.

Although it would be nice to salvage the bricks from this chimney, we decided to leave it where it was for historic and practical purposes. Now, if someone wants to get an idea of how old the house is, or just get an idea of who might have lived there, they can look under it and see the remnants of a part of New Orleans history.

Whatcha Gonna Do With All That Junk?

Throughout the deconstruction and building process, we've attempted to save as much material from the site as possible. The types of wood that are available in an old house in New Orleans are usually long-leaf pine and cypress boards, most of which cannot be found in any building supply store. The wood that we were able to salvage from the house could be used for trim, re-framing, building door casings, and re-used as flooring.

So all this junk had to be de-nailed and sorted so as to get an idea of what was possible. This process is a lot more labor intensive, but it saves resources by recycling, utilizes a priceless resource, and gives historic charm to the details in a house.

One craftsman who is putting these pieces to good use is Jeremy Shatz, who turns "trash into treasure" at his shop, Recycled Cypress of New Orleans. Having worked at the shop for a brief spell, I got to see a board go from being in a dumpster to being part of a beautiful piece of furniture. Throughout New Orleans, craftsmen are salvaging these hidden treasures and making them into beautiful pieces, restoring them to former glory.

As I said before, the back of the house needed work. Houses in New Orleans, especially in the French Quarter, are known for their rear courtyards and the significant emphasis on the beauty contained therein. It allows for a relatively unassuming front of house with a sometimes extravagant rear/courtyard. Embracing that theme, the kitchen/dining/outdoor back area was going to be a focal point for this place. To conceptualize this design motif, I once regaled an audience in a design critique with my analogy of a New Orleans house to a mullet. Not the fish, the hairstyle. Business up front, party in the back.

One begins to understand the kind of grace that goes into such a thought process--it is ignoring the naysayers, pioneering out into the wilderness of style, and crafting something unique for all to see....oh, I'm still talking about the mullet...

The house has similar details and feel. It is going to be a long wide gallery on one side, swinging into a large, open kitchen, and also be nearly contiguous with the outside space. It allows for greater flow throughout the house, and once it's done, I think it's going to look marvelous. For now, you'll have to bask in the splendor that is the mullet.

If you wanted another analogy for this motif, I'd say equate it to someone with a big butt, or a funky butt. Which brings me to another point: Who is going to reopen the FUNKY BUTT?!? that place was the best venue in New Orleans before the storm!

http://www.yelp.com/biz/funky-butt-new-orleans

and

Pic of Guy Wearing a "Funky Butt" Shirt, and a Lady with a Funky Butt

Demolition Man, New Sils, Pulling the Floor Out from Under Us

Right about now, you're saying to yourself: Blah, blah, blah, you love your family, yada, yada, yada... When are you gonna actually do some building, you sod?

Well, right about....now....

The Gut and Gumbo party was like the easy picking part of the demolition process, there was actually more demolition, along with with some ad hoc carpentry and building to do as well.

What we needed to to do was a careful deconstruction of the structure, all the while making sure the place didn't fall over on us. My friend (and former boss) Albert (who I mentioned in a previous post) and his crew came onto the job and started meticulously taking apart framing members, sawing floors, and taking down the back of the house, which was in danger of collapse.

The reason I hired Albert and George is that I know their work (I used to do it!), they are professionals of the first rate, always have an eye for material and cost-efficiency, and love saving old pieces of a structure or the tiniest piece of wood. Albert is so meticulous that we've had to take pieces away from him, saying: "Albert, it's beyond repair, we can't use it." But like that scene in the Abyss, Albert never gives up on anything.

It's also sometimes like this: "It's still good, it's still good!"

It's not that Albert's (just) stubborn, he's just an incredibly smart builder. He has a lot of experience saving houses that most have written off, and I knew that he'd love working on this project.

Simultaneously, the termite eaten and rotten sils of the house needed to be replaced, so Albert's crew also took on this job. Most houses that were built in New Orleans in the last 300 years have a problem with termites. And boy do they love to eat. We needed to make sure to carefully inspect the sils and make sure to replace ones that were beyond repair, as the entire house sits on them, which in turn, sit on the house's piers. In the old days, they didn't have current treatment processes, so when these old, thick pieces of lumber got wet (as humidity and rainfall are heavy here), termites had a feast.

Needless to say, the foundation was not that pretty, almost every piece of sil had to be replaced. That meant we had to lift up the whole house ever so slightly, tear out the sils, and replace them. Section by section, piece by piece, that's exactly what happened.

Tah-Dah! House levitation!

This process was relatively quick, but it was one of the most important things to assure that the house was going to be on a solid foundation. At the same time, this also allowed us to properly level and shore the house.

These are some of the new sils that were put in place. Although not pictured, after all the sils were completed, the house was lifted slightly again in order to place termite-shields between the piers and the sils. The sils themselves are also pressure-treated to prevent rot and termites from eating them.

Inside the house, a big decision had to be made. The house had old, pine floors throughout the house in various states of disrepair. Some of them were still a little shiny, some had been gobbled up by termites. Albert and I went back and forth on whether we should leave the good parts, tear up the bad and build around them, or just tear up everything and see what we could save. Like Albert, I and my parents wanted to save these old, beautiful floors. So, we decided to gingerly cut out every floor board, de-nail and sort them, and store them so as to put them back in as the finished floor.

We got the good wood out, and also found some other sources of flooring on-site (you'll have to wait to see what it is and the finished product).

More to come later!

Home Is Where the Heart Is

Shortly after I got the HDLC blessing, I had to obtain a building permit for the house. This was a (DREW)breeze, save for the fact that the receptionist forgot I was there, even though I was sitting five feet from her. What took two hours should have taken 20 minutes.

Now, I'll step down from my soapbox.

One of the most important aspects of the project is the neighborhood where the house is located. The house is nestled on a side street off of Esplanade Avenue in the Fairgrounds area (next to Jazzfest), just around the corner from a few restaurants, a coffee shop, a wine shop, 2 grocery stores, a small park, City Park, Bayou St. John, and centrally located, with access to the whole city. I think my brother-in-law said it best (at his wedding in NOLA), "What luck."

In fact, going back to before my parents purchased the place, it was my new brother-in-law, my sister, and I, who discovered this diamond in the rough when they were passing through town in the late summer of 2010. I would love to entertain the idea that it was just the thought of visiting me that brought them down, but these two love birds had their own (recent) history with NOLA. In April of 2010, they exchanged their nuptials, and decided that the backdrop (and guest of honor) would be New Orleans. Although neither had lived here before, it was the place where their romance blossomed, the site of numerous Jazzfest family gatherings together, the place where they got engaged, and as such, was the logical and perfect location for their wedding. I'll be brief: Best. Wedding. Ever. I'll write a more detailed post once their anniversary comes around, which should coincide with some of the finishing of the house!

For those late summer days, my sister and brother-in-law decided to browse around for houses, as it was always a musing and hopeful activity to do: Take a walk in a nice neighborhood, admire the beautiful, old trees complemented by beautiful old houses, differing in some details, but maintaining that distinctly New Orleans charm. It's sort of like imagining what you'd do if you won the lottery, just playfully thinking about the future. Yet, this task also had a degree of practicality to it.

Since the storm, my father had put increasing seriousness behind a statement that I hadn't given much weight to beforehand: "Find me a house in New Orleans." Every year, when the parents came around, we would do this hopeful walk, talk to realtors, and play with the idea of having a house in New Orleans. Now that my sister was married, things seemed to become more acute and into focus, and it appeared that the time might be right for actually plunging into such an endeavor.

So, my sister, Carolyn, and brother-in-law, Jamie, decided to go out and sample some of the real-estate. However, they were not alone. To help get further information on these candidates, I put Irish expatriate, local pub-tender, and real-estate agent/guru, Jo-ann Fitzpatrick Broussard of Latter and Blum on the case. Jo-ann is part of a small group of expatriates who have done incredible work rebuilding the city, and she is also the sister of the owners of the best pub/bar/community space in New Orleans, Finn McCool's. New Orleans owes this bar, and the community that inhabits and imbibes in this space a great debt of gratitude. These are the people who rebuilt this city. The stories, the people, and the lives that interact here are recounted in a couple recent, wonderful books by local authors (and Finn's patrons):

A Season of Night by Ian McNulty

Finn McCool's FC: The Birth, Death, Resurrection of a Pub Soccer Team in the City of the Dead by Stephen Rea

Jo-ann, along with her fellow Irish realtor, Eileen Nolan, were able to find out everything we needed to know about each place at which Carolyn and Jamie wanted to look. They interacted with other real estate agents who were in charge of their respective properties, scheduling visiting times and appointments. We began looking at houses all over the the city, trying to find something that would be the right fit. We saw houses that had just been renovated, ones that needed work, and houses that needed a LOT of work.

Finally, we were between two places in the Fairgrounds area, each with their own advantages. However, we were secretly pushing for the smaller house that needed a LOT of work: "It's perfect. Call Mom and Papa."

Remember that increasing seriousness about buying a house? Now, our job was to convince our parents over the phone and through emailed pictures to immediately get down to New Orleans, look at these houses, and hopefully make an offer; putting equal seriousness on the opportunity in front of us. The house we secretly wanted had only been on the market for a few days, and had a couple offers on it.

It was difficult at first, but we were able to convince my mom to come down, with my dad saying that as long as she loved it, he would buy it. We had gone through the larger house, taking the much higher price tag into account, and realized that the place would be a much riskier investment. It is a beautiful (and could be even more beautiful) house, but it might have been just too much. We then pulled up to the smaller house, took a quick tour through the devastation, and outside I tried to explain to my mom that I could rebuild the house for my father and her. All the while, she seemed not to be paying attention to me, not because she didn't believe me, but that she was caught by the potential beauty of the house. She kept looking up at the place, and said, "I think your father is going to love this." I learned a lot about my parents in that instant: They both know each other and love each other enough to know what each desire, and each trusts the other enough to make an incredible decision on behalf of the other.

We made the offer through Jo-ann, Eileen, and Gary (the agent in charge of the house). After a couple counter offers and back and forth, our offer was accepted. My dad came down with my mom again, and when he saw the neighborhood, the location, the potential, and the house, he said: "Oh, I love this." He couldn't wait to sign the papers, and afterward, we had a nice dinner to celebrate the new place in our family's heart. What luck!

Resigned to Design...

When my parents bought the house, we had a few ideas about what we could do. But, we had to establish a program for the house, or what the objective of the project would be.

The key things that emerged were:

1. A place for my dad to chill (i.e. read Shakespeare, imbibe, live out his eccentricity).

1.a. A place for my mom to feel comfortable and be able to have decent storage (decent, not excessive :))

2. Small enough for two people (mom and dad), but expansive enough to entertain family and friends (Jazzfest, holidays, bacchanalian revelry)

3. Emphasis on kitchen/living/dining space for entertainment and social purposes

4. Reasonable cost of construction and operation of house for future financial planning or fixed income scenarios (Cost effective construction, energy efficiency, renewable energy) and planning for future usage patterns

5. Historic sensibility with sustainable, green features, and use recycled or existing-on-site materials.

With all this is mind, I went over some of these desires/deliverables and began discussing these with my former boss, current friend, and Jeremy Shockey look-alike, George.

I met George through a mutual friend at Tulane; I worked for him for about a year and a half, renovating houses after Katrina. George is originally from Texas, his dad was a contractor, so he grew up helping with construction projects. For college, George came to Tulane and received a Masters in Architecture. I only stopped working for George so I could attend Yestermorrow, and since then, we have tried to get back to hanging out, talking about our "Hard-body" days :)

We decided to grab a drink that night, and sure enough, in the dimly lit bar, as I was chatting with George, a few people at the table next to us started whispering and pointing at him. It helps when you kind of look like a guy from your hometown's SuperBowl champs--Who Dat. Yes, this year wasn't so great. But damn, that season was a wild ride, and this city will never, ever forget it.

Moments after the Super Bowl

Anyway, the house itself was an approximately 1000 sq. ft. double shotgun/Creole cottage (i.e. 500 sq. ft. each apt./side). The lot only extended 3 more feet on each side, and about 9-10 feet behind the house. The whole lot was approx. 32'x 50'. This lot size (at least the width) is typical of many New Orleans properties, with many being longer in length to accommodate skinny but long houses. This was the custom of the French who originally founded the city, who established an 'arpent' system of lot distribution (See Campanella: New Orleans, Time and Place). This system was used primarily to distribute many plots with small widths and long lengths for agricultural purposes. The width allowed many adjacent plots to be divided, and the length was used so as to have access to bodies of water, especially the Mississippi River. Over time, this practical measure became the custom, and New Orleans' urban, and distinctly European, housing density is owed to this tradition.

Since we had to work within the lot, one of the ideas that I came up with was expanding the living space into the attic, as it was already very high, allowing for significant headroom and comfort. Many New Orleans shotguns have 'camelbacks,' a second floor added to the top in order to accommodate growing families and lifestyles, but I was thinking of trying to keep the space within the existing roof-line (or have a small dormer). We could have completely torn down the house and started anew, but utilizing the existing footprint and parameters was my primary motivation. Additionally, the house is located on the edge of a local historic district, so we were mindful that any plans might have to bear the scrutiny of the Historic Districts and Landmarks Council (HDLC). The HDLC is sometimes a four letter word to builders and architects in New Orleans, as their mission is to assure historic continuity and preservation in the buildings of the city. In many areas, they tightly control exterior construction, while in others they have limited or no jurisdiction. If we were going to be changing the roof line slightly, the roof color, painting a certain exterior color, putting solar panels up, etc., depending on the extent of jurisdiction, I might have to get the blessing/approval of the HDLC.

Since we were straying into more complex territory with the second floor, we decided to bring our friend Jack, an architect, in on the project. Jack is a mutual friend and life-long New Orleanian, having designed/built/renovated several New Orleans houses and properties. He also rebuilt and owns a castle...No, I'm serious, he owns a goddamn castle. More on that in other posts. If anyone could help us design this correctly, it was he.

I had a couple meetings with Jack and Albert (George's business partner and also my friend), we figured out what the possibilities were, and he set about designing the space for our program.

About two weeks later, my parents came in town to get a feel for the neighborhood and also make some design decisions alongside Jack, seeing what the space offered.

Our "design" meeting was unconventional, but incredibly fruitful, entertaining, and progressive. My parents brought down our family friends, Jim and Tina, who had also designed/constructed their own house, in order to provide insight into the process. With six people in on this design meeting (including myself), I was worried that it might seem a little crowded or overwhelming for Jack. When we got to the neighborhood, someone had the bright idea of having the meeting in the back of the neighborhood wine shop. In this little shop, there was an old long-leaf pine table where Jack unfurled the plans, we ordered a couple bottles of wine, got out pencils and pads, and started conversing.

We switched around the layout, found space where it was not before, and found a design that worked for everyone's sensibilities. There were a couple small hiccups after the meeting in terms of appliance placement, but other than that, the back of the wine shop was the perfect crucible.

Once we got a good design, Jack tempered my excitement by informing me that I needed to make sure this could fly with the HDLC. We had come up with a wing-like shed dormer for the back North side of the house in order to allow for a master bathroom and bedroom, a white metal roof, and solar panels on the South facing roof. Needless to say, all of these features were potentially on the chopping block.

I scheduled an appointment with the HDLC's review architect for the district. Each historic district has a reviewer for architecture/renovation plans. Depending on their jurisdiction, they can approve/disapprove of a renovation style or feature, or just make recommendations. If they disapprove, people can appeal their case in front of the HDLC review panel, kind of like an attorney taking questions in the Supreme Court.

I walked into the office, hat plans in hand, hoping that the reviewer would have mercy on our big plans.

Reviewer: "So, where is the property located?"

Bob: "Uh, (Address)..."

Reviewer: "That's the Fairgrounds Historic District...interesting...

Bob: "What's interesting?"

Reviewer: "Oh, it's just kind of funny, the house next door is right outside the historic district, but you're right in there on the edge"

I almost slapped my face. I thought: You mean to tell me that we could have all these things shot down because we're in the historic district, and the house next door would have no problem!?!?!

As I thought about how I was going to dash my folks' hopes and return to the drawing board, the Reviewer continued.

Reviewer: "So, you're in the non-controlling portion of the historic district, we only strictly control the avenue a couple blocks away."

Bob: "So, I can put a dormer, a metal roof, and solar panels on this house?"

Reviewer: "We recommend that you not, but we don't control it, so you can do whatever you want."

I almost jumped in elation. I asked her more about strategies and certain details in order to enhance the historic parts of the house, even though I did not have to abide by them. In the future, I hope to put historically accurate shutters on the windows, and in the scope of this project, the front/facade of the house (brackets, 12 inch antique weatherboards and all) is going to be sanded and repainted. She gave me the required certificate of review and I skipped out of the office.

Energy Audit, Cleanup, Gut and Gumbo

Before we really got started on the design portion of the house, before we really figured out how everything was going to work, the entire house needed to be gutted. In addition to that, since we were basically going to be renovating the whole house, I figured that we should get an energy audit done in order to see the reduction in airflow (thus energy leakage) from the house, as well as take advantage of some of the incentives that the state of Louisiana has for energy efficiency improvements.

Information on the Louisiana HERO Program is available at:

http://www.empowerlouisiana.org/HeroProgram.aspx

Initially, the energy audit is a little expensive (about $500) with another fee for the finished audit. However, with the potential of receiving a $2-3000 rebate after the improvements are done, it seems to be well worth the investment.

This is what the equipment looks like, a blower door, which tests air infiltration (and exfiltration). Essentially, the fan at the bottom blows air to the outside, depressurizing the house, and accentuating air leaks from windows, outlets, floors, trim, etc. If an air leak is particularly prominent, you can go around and feel the surfaces of rooms to see where the holes are. More likely than not, you will be able to feel a little breeze of air coming from these surfaces. You can also use an artificial smoke wand to see the flow of the air. In addition to the fan, sensors attached to the fan and the outside ambient air detect and measure the pressure differences, and also calculates the CFM (cubic feet per minute) being expelled. Multiply that number by 60 (60min. in an hour), then divide this number by the volume of the house to get the ACH, or Air Changes per Hour. The higher the ACH for your house, the leakier your house is. (Disclaimer: I'm no "scientician" so make sure you talk to a professional energy auditor about efficiency strategies or improvements)

Now comes the smashy-smashy part. Remember what I said about rotten, termite infested, moldy stuff? Yeah, all that stuff needed to go. I love recycling, and try to salvage everything, but a termite eaten piece of wood is better used as more nature food in the dump. Ah, the circle of life.

I did a lot of house gutting work after the storm, so I know the drill. However, it's still tough work, and it takes a little time unless you have a good bunch of folk doing some assembly line type work. I didn't really want to hire anybody to work with me, and I didn't want to bring in volunteers, because they have more important work to do. So, I proposed a happy middle ground, or neutral ground: The Gut and Gumbo Party.

Simple proposition: Get your friends together to help gut the house, and after they finish, feed them gumbo and beer. Plus, I thought it was a clever jibe at the much ballyhooed cultural invention of the short lived, fictional, and sensational series, "K-Ville" (See Gumbo Party). Oh K-Ville, you are sorely sort of missed. (woot, Treme)

And so, a new New Orleans building tradition was born. Here is some of the gumbo (and jambalaya) that was served. I'm not the culinary master, this gumbo and jambalaya was provided by the ever-delicious Crescent Pie and Sausage Company.

http://www.crescentpieandsausage.com/

I wish I had pictures of everyone after both the long day of work and the food. For future reference, a designated post Gut and Gumbo nap is highly recommended.

Project Start

Hello all, and welcome to the first entry of the FeteHaus blog. My name is Bob and I'll be your tour guide, village idiot, and soothsayer on this little journey. The journey, you ask?

To (re)build a small, smart, family home for my parents that utilizes time-tested design/build principles, energy efficiency, recycled materials, and renewable energy.

Let's start at the beginning:

I've been in New Orleans for almost a decade. I came here in 2002 to matriculate at Tulane University...(skip a bit)...studied abroad...(skip a bit)...and then I said, "THAT'S MY QUICHE! VENGEANCE IS MINE!"...(skip a bit)...Hurricane Katrina came and I was displaced for a short time. I came back to rebuild, graduated, and have been involved with building things ever since.

In the Summer of 2008, I was offered a life-changing opportunity to intern at the Yestermorrow Design/Build School in Vermont. While there, I was immersed in a community of designers, builders, students, teachers, ruffians, drifters, musicians, and rebels. It was the perfect environment to do what the school does every day, which is teach people how to interact with their environment.

Once I got back from this internship, I was energized and eager, with the idea that I would shift my focus to the nascent solar industry in New Orleans. I received training from a local solar training program, got an interview with a solar company, and got a job installing PV and Hot Water. Life, it seemed, couldn't get any better.

That is, until reality set in. After a series of unfortunate events, a letter to the bosses, and employee discontent, my "position was eliminated." Kind of Draconian, no? Anyway, I can't say that I'm bitter (But I FEEL HULK RAGE, RAWWWRRRR, SMASH!), but if that hadn't happened, I wouldn't be doing what I'm doing now, which is my own thing. Luckily, I have a couple partners in this lil' excursion, and we're having a great time being our own bosses.

Finally, to the subject of the blog: My parents bought a house in New Orleans. For my entire life, my parents have labored, sacrificed, and saved in order to give my siblings and me the best that life has to offer. This project is a labor of love, in the hope that some measure of what they gave to me can be given back to them. But I don't have all the time in the world to do this, I have to be done by the end of April. Why? BECAUSE IT'S JAZZFEST TIME! and the house is located steps from the entrance to the festival.

That is why I decided to call the project "FeteHaus."

Fete: a French word meaning festival, celebration or party, which has passed into English as a label that may be given to certain events.

Haus: a German word meaning house, home, building or structure that is a dwelling or place for habitation by human beings. Plus, architects love the word "haus." (see Bauhaus http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bauhaus)

Essentially, its a celebration house, a party house, something that can be a symbol of the celebration of our family and life in general. It seems to fit snugly with the cultural history of New Orleans as well as with the general joie de vivre.

I've already started, but the pictures you see are a testament to the condition of the place when it was bought: Termite ridden, rotten, falling over, etc. Time to make this $h!+ become ShiNOLA!