This is a companion piece to the Truck Of A Lifetime tribute to my 1966 Ford F-100. This chapter is mostly autobiographical, and picks up from the previous one that covered the Telemundo years. It covers our transition from Los Gatos, CA. to Eugene, and how I eventually figured out how to make a new living there that included using my truck. Disclaimer: It’s long, it’s mostly about moving and renovating old houses, and there’s not much automotive content.
One fine spring day in May of 1992, I was told by my secretary that a certain executive from the Telemundo corporate offices was in the lobby to see me. I had been expecting him for some weeks now, and I knew exactly what was going to transpire. Thirty minutes later, I walked out the door of KSTS in San Jose with a box of personal items, got in my 300E, and headed home to our house in Los Gatos. I was free! But now what?
The timing was awkward, to put it lightly. Our third child had arrived a few months earlier. We had just sunk hundreds of thousands of dollars into an extremely extensive rebuilding, expansion, and renovation of our beautiful historic (1866) house in Los Gatos, which had been damaged in the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake. This was money that I had made from selling my stock in Telemundo before it tanked totally and from a five-year employment contract that had generated some very hefty bonuses based on meeting/exceeding certain thresholds. Pouring almost all of it into an old house via an expensive contractor meant that fulfilling our intention of living there forever was now in serious peril. But did I acknowledge that in the spring of 1992? Naw; I much preferred denial and the idea of being free. i was living in the moment.
I got a severance that paid my full salary for six months, so I just pretended like it was going to keep coming forever. I sold my beloved 300E. I started riding my bike around town. I did stop my contractor, who was mostly finished by then, and set to doing some of the final details myself. But that was mostly minor stuff at that stage. I had really wanted to do the whole project myself, but I had neither the time or knowledge then.
So I dreamed instead; that’s what beds are for, right?
Like how to be financially independent and never again have to deal with corporate politics, or just even a boss. And how to make a living that allowed me to use my truck and my hands, and not just my head. I had always been an outdoorsy person, and working in an air-conditioned office wearing a suit had long worn on me; I was sick of it, and ready to toss it all aside even though I was a known quantity and could certainly have found another job in television.
Bu then I was sick of tv too; I felt like a vegetarian butcher. We were raising our kids without tv (lots of books instead), and I drove off to a tv station every day. I remember my son’s eyes popping when he came to visit me at the office and I had two tv on, of our station and the competition.
I had some tentative job conversations, but my heart wasn’t in it, and I certainly wasn’t going to pack up and move to some other big city away from mountains and the ocean. Los Gatos, nestled up against the Santa Cruz Mountains and 30 minutes from the Pacific felt pretty idyllic, in relative terms, for being right in a major metropolitan area.
Actually, the town was becoming insanely expensive, a Silicon Valley enclave, and I was increasingly uncomfortable with the snootiness, pretentiousness and one-upsmanship that was ever-more pervasive. But on our one acre plot surrounded by trees, garden, chickens and with a seasonal creek, we could pretend to be in a world of our own, even if we were practically right in town.
So instead of job hunting, I laid out a giant garden instead, in the sunny front yard, where the storage unit and construction equipment had been. I ran water lines and installed my first drip irrigation system. I hauled loads of well-aged manure from a tiny local dairy with the Ford, and double-dug it into the hardpan soil. I had all this pent-up energy from sitting behind a desk for years.
The results were spectacular. It was a riot of green, and we had produce coming out our ears. But was this how I was going to feed my family? In Los Gatos? Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.
After a long-shot attempt to buy a tv station in LA (did I really want to move back there?) fizzled out, it came to me one day a full year after losing my job that this simply wasn’t sustainable. Doh! And that we were going to have to sell the house and move somewhere cheaper; but to a place we really wanted to live. A smaller city, a good place to raise kids, enjoy the outdoors, hike, camp, garden, and…figure out how to support the family, eventually.
In July of 1993, while the older kids were at camp, we drove to Eugene, Oregon to check it out. I had spent a few days there in 1972 on my hitchhike up the West Coast, and it was now calling to me. We left three days later, having bought a house and enrolled our kids in school. We tend to act quickly; impulsive, in other words.
So in late August of 1993, we packed up the ’92 Caravan and my truck and trailer, and headed to Oregon, which has been and continues to be a popular destination for folks in similar situations. Call them California equity bums: Sell an expensive house in the Bay Area, buy a cheap one in Eugene, and start over. Or commute back to Silicon Valley weekly, like the dad of one family we knew. In our case, we had bought the house in Eugene even before selling ours in Los Gatos.
I picked up a trailer skeleton for what had probably been an ATV hauler, put in plywood floors and sides, and loaded both to the gunnels. For trip #1. There would be several of these trips up I5 in my truck-trailer combo, because we had accumulated a huge amount of stuff (much of which should have been jettisoned), but also because I had to come back and sell the house while Stephanie and the kids lived in Eugene, so the kids could start school there right away.
The truck and trailer rolled along quite well, although I did have a couple of hairy drum-braked moments. And I had one trailer flat, but had a spare. I’d come up to Eugene with a load, spend a week or so, and then head back down.
Timing is everything: this of course was right during the 1991-1992 recession that hit CA particularly hard, especially real estate. I ended up selling the house myself, as the realtors all gave me target asking prices that were too low in my opinion. I sold it for about $70k more than they had said, and with the saved commission, saved about $100k, which got me a bit closer to breaking even. Yup; I sold a house in Los Gatos for a substantial loss; bad timing, and I had just sunk a small fortune into it. It’s now worth about five times times as much.
The deal I made was a two-year lease-option, so I wouldn’t get our money out of it right away. But the lease payments were almost enough for us to live off, given that we made drastic changes to our expenses. Very drastic. Instead of expensive Yuppie bakery bread, Stephanie bought day-old bread. Etc.. But I was determined to not eat our capital, and to live within whatever it earned, or I could earn.
I was still enjoying my freedom, and that first year in Eugene I diddled around. Took esoteric classes. Rode my bike a lot. Explored the beautiful back country. But I knew that was not going to last forever.
I met a carpenter at my kids’ Waldorf school who really wanted to build an environmentally-responsible house, since he had become chemically sensitive to all of the formaldehyde and other chemicals used in typical construction. The lots behind our house had come up for sale shortly after moving, and I picked up one and helped him buy two of them. And I lent him and his partner money to build the house, which was designed by two architects and part-time UO architecture professors. It was certified passive solar construction, built from sustainable-harvested wood pulled out of a wood lot with a team of horses (seriously), had 8″ walls with super-insulation, used environmentally-friendly materials, and all sorts of very nice and comfortable features.
The builder was in a bit over his head, so I started helping out, shingling the exterior and painting. But as a spec house built with all of these expensive features, we couldn’t realize its value, and lost money on it (we did pay ourselves a very modest wage). But I learned a huge amount, and became increasingly interested in building.
We then built the second house on the other lot, but this time I was his 50% partner, handled all the books, and made sure expenses were better controlled. Compromises, in other words.
It was mostly just the two of us, so I got a deep immersion from the ground up in what it takes to build a house. And the Ford hauled materials when we needed something more than what the lumber yard dropped off.
It was hard work. We managed to make a modest profit on this one, which resulted in a break-even on the two-house partnership, but we had paid ourselves very little, and I quickly realized that building beautiful, unique and high-feature eco spec houses was not going to be the way to go for me, given the modest price of houses in Eugene at the time. My partner James did well later as a custom eco-builder, but only after he found really wealthy Californians who wanted him to build for them.
The second house was for sale recently, and it was fun to go back in and relive the memories, for better or for worse. Interior pictures can be found here
It was now the summer of 1996, and we had some more money after selling this second house and the option on our Los Gatos house had been exercised. Someone steered my to a house for sale, about eight blocks away, that sat on a large, double lot. Its price did not really reflect the intrinsic value of the potential in the land, so we bought it and rented it out.
Around the time we were building that second new house, a young house mover bought the lot between it and the one we had bought behind our house, and he moved in this fine old house from downtown, to be his own home. He first got me thinking about moved houses, especially since I now had a couple of buildable lots. And soon I would have several more.
The red Mazda 626 was my son Ed’s first car, which we bought from a charity lot. He lived in that little converted garage then.
The rental house I bought was 2769 Jackson. I knew I could put a house on its second lot (where the shed sat) right away, and I could also create an additional lot, an alley access lot, in the rear. But then I noticed that the house next door (2743 Jackson) also sat on a double lot, and I saw even more potential. I looked up the owner at the courthouse, knocked on his door (elsewhere), and asked if he might consider selling that house. He said “good timing; my brother and I just decided yesterday that’s one of the ones we’re going to sell to pay inheritance taxes on the 22 houses we’ve just inherited”.
We agreed on the price, and a few days later I met him at the bank to notarize the deed after I handed him a cashier’s check. Simplest real estate transaction ever.
What I realized is that there was just barely enough square footage to create an additional lot, resulting in five new lots, given the 4500 sq.ft. minimum lot size in this low-density zone. So I started a subdivision process, although at that time I did not know yet what would go on the lots, as is shown in this drawing. Plus I had two more lots on the block where I lived. Seven in total. Meanwhile, the two houses I bought were rented out, and earned us a decent return from the get go. Essentially, I got these five lots for free; well, the subdivision cost me $5,000. So $1,000 each.
before the move
Meanwhile, my house mover neighbor found a little bungalow that needed to be moved or torn down. He made me a good deal, and he moved it onto the second lot at Jackson, before the subdivision was completed. That was in late 1996, and then the heavens opened up for an epic winter of rain, so it sat there until the spring.
after move and renovated (1998)
I had them move it in backwards, as I planned to open up the walls in side, and wanted the main living spaces to face south for better light. And I added a front porch to what used to be the back of the house. But most of that work would have to wait, because something much bigger was afoot: Six houses needed to find a home, asap, or get demolished! And I was the only one who could/would take them in.
one of the houses pre-move
The University of Oregon started buying residential houses to the east of its compact urban campus many decades ago. They rented them to students, but in recent years have redeveloped some of the land for new construction.
another one pre-move
In the summer of 1997, they had to get rid of seven houses for a new large building project, and had given them to the City of Eugene Development Dept., who was now making them available for free, with certain conditions. One of them was they had to be moved within six weeks. I was the only one who had lots available within reasonable distance from the campus. And my house mover made me a very compelling package deal.
Needless to say, the university had done only the absolute bare minimum of maintenance on these houses, especially since they knew these were slated for eventual demolition or removal. They were in really rundown shape; I asked if I could pass on this one above, which also had an atrociously weird floor plan. “Nope; it’s a package deal”.
Before we go any further, I should explain that house-moving is an old tradition, although there are easier ways than this one. Any structure can be moved, with enough resources. And many large buildings and structures have been moved for centuries, even large masonry buildings. But needless to say, moving a moderate-sized wood frame house is a whole lot easier; it’s actually not difficult. A wood house is built not all that different than many trailers. It just needs some wheels.
These two videos show the basic process, although they had to deal with a basement, which is a bit more complicated.
Holes are knocked into the the foundation. Two large steel I beams are then slid under the house about a third of the way in from each side. A unified hydraulic jacking system raises the beams (and house). A couple of smaller cross beams are attached underneath the main beams, and dollies are attached to the cross beams, two in the back and one in the front. This is for a basic wood house, like the ones that I had moved; larger houses need more beams and dollies.
So early on a Sunday morning in August, 1997, I met the them where they had four of the larger houses all prepared to roll (the two little one-bedroom cottages came a couple of weeks later). Here they are being all assembled in a row and just getting ready to head out. Oversized Load indeed!
There was a good reason to move these four at one time, because the biggest expense outside of the mover are the utility lines and street lights in town, which have to be raised at almost every intersection. That’s an important consideration in house moving: the route and the impediments along it. The shorter and fewer, the better (cheaper). These were coming about 1.5 miles, but much of it had to be along busy 18th Avenue, which has stop lights on almost every block. Not ideal, but not too bad either.
Four houses just barely fit in each block, so they could sit and wait while the electric, cable, phone, and city linemen raised and lowered the lines. And motorcycle police controlled traffic. And everyone one of them was getting double time, which even back then hit close to $100/hour each.
Here they are, lowering or raising lines. House moving tends to bring out the spectators, especially when it’s four in a row.
Trees were a bit of a problem too, but a guy sitting on the roof of with a chain saw made quick work of the obstacles. One or two bystanders had some less than positive words to say about that. Trees are sacred in Eugene, despite the endless numbers of them. And the dump trucks pulling the houses hauled off the cuttings. I rode on that porch for a good part of the way, sitting in an old chair.
And son Will got to ride in one of the trucks;. here he is grinning ear-to-ear. You can see here why the street lights had to be swung around (modern street light pedestals do that fairly readily).
When they got to my neighborhood, one of the houses split off to my block, and the other three continued, with fewer impediments, to the Jackson St. site. They all arrived by early afternoon, and were just rolled onto the prepared pads for them, which involves peeling off the top 12″ or so of topsoil, and putting down 4″ of compacted gravel. No basements or cellars.
The one that came to my block was more complicated, as it was a lot with considerable slope. The excavation was deeper, and a bulldozer, off to the left of the picture, winched it into place after it firmly dug its blade into the ground. There was considerable groaning and creaking. Needless to say, all the plaster walls had a lot of cracks. But that was to be expected.
The houses were lowered unto wood cribbing, as seen here. After the foundation is built under them and the utilities are in place, the house mover comes back and drops it on the new foundation, and slides out the beams. Sounds simple,eh? Now the fun part started, for me. Not.
My subdivision was expected to be completed in August, just before the houses came. Everything had gone well, until it got to the City Surveyors office. They would find some little thing to change or fix, I would do it right away, and then they would find something else…this dragged on into the beginning of November. Which means I couldn’t get actual building permits and start until the subdivision was approved. In fact, the city made an exception for me to allow me to “store” the houses on the property pending approval. Well, it was in their interest, after all, as I was the only one who could take them off their hands.
And when the approvals and building permits were in hand, it was mid/late November, and the rains started. And kept coming.
Digging trenches for the storm sewer, water and sewer lines was a taste of WW1 trench warfare. Over night, trench walls would collapse. Cutting and gluing lines in the muck was a real blast. It’s heavy clay, so one gets taller and taller. Until the rubber boots get so heavy they come off. That open bedroom of one of the existing houses had to be cut off partially to make the subdivision work.
Out by the street, we had to put in a manhole for the storm sewer connection of all the houses.
The winter/spring of 1997-1998 was a long, hard one, as I had to hustle to get the foundations ready so that the mover could drop them and get his steel beams back. That happened one at a time; I did my own footings, sometimes with a helper. I laid the concrete blocks for the first house, but that was just too hard and slow. I’d hire a mason for the day, to keep things moving along and save my back.
This house had a lot of rotted floor joists, so I spent a goodly amount of time underneath it with a Sawzall and then pounding on 2x8s with a sledge hammer to jam them into place. Let’s just say I am intimately familiar with the undersides of my houses. And I put them all on three-block-high foundations, so that it wouldn’t be so tight under there. I hate the crawlspaces of my two existing houses, which are nasty and claustrophobic. The new ones are a dream in comparison. Eveything’s relative.
This is one of the two little twin cottages that came a couple of weeks later. They were small and low enough that the house mover did it completely surreptitiously one very early Sunday morning, with no police escort or utility companies. He attached a PVC pipe along the ridge of the roof, and bent it down at the front, so that utility cables would just ride over the ridge. He played fast and loose too often; he ended up losing his license to move houses a few years later. One too many knocked down live electric lines and a house in the ditch, or something like that.
It felt so good getting them all back on foundations, and having the trenches covered up.
Of course, that was just the start. Now they needed to be completely renovated. If I’d been smart, I would have taken out a big loan and hired a proper crew and banged them out all in a year or so. But no; I wanted to do them one by one, the hard way.
I did hire casual labor; some were better than others and stuck around for a while. Here we’re opening up a wall to put in much larger new windows.
Only the two little cottages needed a new roof right away; the others were still pretty good. In fact they’re all still on the houses today, although some are finally needing replacement. Of course, I don’t replace a roof until it really needs it. I see roofs being torn off and replaced that I’d be glad to have on my houses. Invariably, leaks don’t happen from the shingles themselves; it’s almost always some interface/opening, with a chimney, vent stack, wall, etc.. Which can readily be fixed without replacing the roof. But roofing companies love to keep replacing roofs, whether they need it or not. And when a homeowner calls on a roofing contractor to look at his roof to see whether it needs replacing, what’s the inevitable answer going to be? No; that roof is good for another 5-10 years.
Oh; that’s Jim the roofer that’s hand nailing up there. He was this very laid back older guy who charged (very modestly) by the square (100 sq. ft), but refused to use an air gun for the nails. He enjoyed sitting up there nailing away at his pace, and he didn’t care how long it took. And he did a very good job.
This is going to get really long, but I suppose I should show you a bit of what I did to the insides. The extent of the work varied, depending on their condition and floor plan. I tried to keep the kitchens and baths largely intact, as that gets expensive. This house had no plaster or drywall, just some old fiberboard nailed to the walls, so that got all taken down.
This house had already been majorly expanded from a tiny cottage in the 1930s, and they used recycled boards. Quite the patchwork.
The first one to be finished was the one that had come six months before the others. That wasn’t until May 1998, and a PhD candidate from New Jersey and his wife moved in, and stayed for some years. It’s now been named after them; “The Dubin House”.
The next one to be finished was one of the two little cottages, in the lot behind our house. That was in October of 1998. The garage also came along with the houses, on the back of a flatbed truck. I converted that into a little studio cottage, and both my sons as well as some tenants lived in it.
This is the lot where I more recently built a new house, attached to the front of the garage-studio. That house is chronicled here.
The very back end of the Toyota Corona Liftback from the 70s that my first tenant drove in that cottage is just barely visible. And today, it’s surrounded by the trees that we had just planted back then.
I’m almost embarrassed to say that it now fetches $995/month, for 500 sq. ft. and a tiny bedroom. But I could rent these little cottages all day long; folks practically fight over them when I advertise one.
Six moths later, “Big Pink” was finished. This was the nicest of the houses, built in 1915 and with 10′ ceilings, and front and rear porches. But despite its tallness, it has all of 1050 sq. ft, but very efficiently laid out, bungalow style, with no hallway.
Living room, dining room, and kitchen on one side, with the three bedrooms and bath opening directly to them. I did have to cut in a new entry to the bath from the living room, as originally it was accessible only from one of the bedrooms. Now that’s a bit awkward and obsolete.
I was working at maximum speed in 1999, and had some help most of the time. Three months later, in June 1999, the other little cottage was finished. By the way, I only used an electrician on the very first house. I either completely rewired or upgraded the wiring in these houses myself. I find electric work very straightforward. Plumbing is a bit more of a pain, but I eventually did most of it myself too.
It was almost a full year later, in May of 2000, when I finished the next house. It required more work, help was more sporadic, and I was slowing down a bit, and allowing myself to get distracted with other things, including a six week trip to Europe with my boys.
By now, the pressure was off; I had enough houses rented to cover or more than cover living expenses. The City offered us very low-interest rehab loans, and I took $100k worth, which was used for living expenses and paying for materials and helpers, as our own capital was used up by this time. Making this all work financially was a bit of a challenge, as Stephanie was a stay-at-home mom, and home schooled. The only way it was possible is of course the fact that we had enough money to buy our own house for cash and these first two houses, as well as the other two lots. So we had extremely low debt (only that $100k), which I soon paid off totally. Been debt-free ever since. The new house I built recently was paid out of cash flow. I hate dealing with banks and mortgage brokers.
I took down the wall between the kitchen and dining room in that house, and along with the bigger windows, it now has very light and airy living spaces.
The attic conversion had no insulation, so we took it down to the studs, filled the bays with rigid insulation, and dry walled. I put a lot of attention to insulation on all of these houses, and upgraded them as much as possible to stay cozy in the winter and comfortable in the summer. New windows across the board. A lot of old rental houses in Eugene have little or no insulation, which the kids that rent them find out the hard way when they get their first electric bill of the heating season.
For some years I had playground equipment that someone gave to me in the common yard area between some of the houses, and one time we had over 10 kids in this cluster of seven houses. But it started to rot and we have fewer kids these days, so I eventually offered it for free on craigslist. It went real fast.
The last house at Jackson took almost another year to finish, in the spring of 2001 (this is a later picture). It had a very weird floor plan on multiple levels, plus part of it sat on a slab, which had to stay behind, of course. But I finally made my peace with it, and got it done, pretty much all alone.
It’s the youngest of the bunch, built in 1947. And it has plywood on the walls, skimmed over a bit, and the siding is also plywood ripped into “planks”. Eugene is a major source of wood products and plywood was the hot thing after the war.
I have added a covered patio or porch to almost all of them, Each house has a modest-sized fenced private yard, and the rest is common area. My tenants are mostly young or youngish; lots of grad students, who make good tenants, in my experience.
That leaves one more, the one that was moved unto the sloping lot on my block, next to the new house we built some years earlier. This one was a real bear, and a much more ambitious undertaking, as I decided to add a complete new second unit under it, on the ground floor. And the original house was such a mess, it was essentially gutted. It probably would have been easier to start from scratch.
The full lower excavation took place while the house was sitting on tall wood cribbing. I didn’t trust myself, and hired an experienced operator. If it got knocked it down, I didn’t want coming down on me.
The exterior walls of the lower level, which is really something of a daylight basement, is built with a somewhat unusual product, Rastra Blocks. Developed in Austria in 1972, Rastra is the original Insulated Concrete Form (“ICF”), but substantially different than the ones made from virgin foam. Rastra blocks are made of 85% recycled polystyrene beads and 15% cement, and have hollow horizontal and vertical cores that are filled with concrete (and rebar) to give them their structural strength. They are dry-stacked, glued together with a foam gun, and then filled with concrete. The result is a very strong, essentially air-tight, high-R value wall that is ideal for basements, as it requires no added insulation. It’s used a lot in the southwest for adobe-look houses, as it can be plastered directly.
It’s a bit different to work with; plumbing and electrical lines are run in cavities easily carved out of the blocks. I bought a cheap electric chain saw for the job, which worked very well.
This is the wall behind the kitchen sink, and shows how the lines are run. One also has to foam in pieces of 2×4 where one wants backing to screw in cabinets later. One can plaster directly over the Rastra, but I chose to put up drywall sheets, which I just glued to the wall with a foam gun.
Unfortunately, PEX water lines were not approved by our code authority until this time, which meant I had to use copper and CPVC in the other houses. But now I could use PEX, which is so much better than previous materials for the job, and so easy to work with.
Here the upper floor exterior is essentially done, and the lower floor Rastra is a getting a traditional three-coat stucco finish. I had gotten very expensive bids from contractors for a stucco finish. One day I drove by the place where I often picked up Mexican and other Latino day laborers, and asked if any of them did stucco. One guy said yes, and I showed him the job. He said he would do it for $500 and materials. Deal! I became his helper, mixing up the mud which he applied expertly. I felt almost bad for what he charged me for that three-coat job, but he made plenty when I also hired him to do the drywall finishing in both the upstairs and downstairs units. He did the most amazing smooth finish.
That sun porch turned into a massive job. It was all rotted out, including some of the windows. I had to rebuild it essentially from scratch, but re-using the old wood windows. I had to take them totally apart, meaning all those many pieces of glass was removed. and I found a custom window shop that made the mullions I needed to repair them. And then reassemble all of it, and putty all those panes. What a pain!
And I wanted the two side units to open, so I found a rail and roller system as used on rolling doors and such which I adapted. That alone took several weeks. Anyone else would have tossed these aside and installed some vinyl sliders. I could go on, but it is a wonderful space up there now.
And the views are fine too. But it took several months for that porch alone.
I gutted the upstairs, and opened it it up completely, from back to front. I cant remember exactly when I finished it, but I think not until about 2004.
And then I started the lower unit (both levels are 3 bedroom, 1 bath), and finally wrapped it up in the early spring of 2006. I struggled with this house; it was just a bit overwhelming, and I was getting tired of working mostly by myself. Not enough interaction with other humans, and not enough mental work. I got a bit depressed, actually, although that might have been a symptom of a health issue that came up at about that time (and which has since disappeared).
But this house has always attracted terrific tenants, mostly law and other older grad students, who love it and have mostly been good to it.
The inevitable question is: “what are the economics of house moving”? Folks often can’t believe when I tell them that I got these houses for “free”. Well, that’s just the start, and misleading. Frankly, it’s not an easy question to answer simplistically. It depends on many variables, perhaps the most important ones being the condition of the house, the cost of building new, and one’s ability to do the renovation and other work required. If one has to hire a contractor for all or most of the work, the economics rarely work out unless it’s an exceptional house. These certainly weren’t. Oh, and of course one has to have a suitable lot, and not too far away. That alone is a big obstacle as lots close to town are extremely hard to come by.
What drew me to house moving was the same draw that many of you feel towards old cars: the natural impulse to preserve them and keep them from the crusher/bulldozer. I also preferred to avoid dealing with banks to finance new construction. And fixing an old house seemed a lot less intimidating than building from scratch. Sound familiar?
Then there’s the cost of land and the moving to consider. In my case, five of the lots were essentially free, from my subdivision, and the other two I had picked up for very cheap before the market here really started valuing lots properly. And since I was looking for long-term rentals, these rather modest houses made sense, at the time. They wouldn’t today, as the market is so much stronger, and obsolete houses are now increasingly being torn down in my neighborhood for new construction. These are simple houses easy to maintain, and rather compact. The rent I get per square foot is optimum.
I also got a very good deal from my house mover. He was just starting out, and needed the work. Today, it would probably be at least double that or more, even inflation adjusted.
I stumbled into this cost breakdown that I did some years ago, for someone interested in this sort of project. It is a composite average (per house) of the two size houses I moved: 3 bedroom, 1 bath units sized from 900 – 1150 sq. ft., and the two 525 sq.ft. one-bedroom cottages. The house moving costs include the mover’s own cost, as well as all of the utility companies and police escort, which largely explains the substantially higher cost for the bigger houses.
The rest of the costs are my out of pocket costs, for some limited contractors, casual labor, and materials. If we pick 1999 as the mid year for these, and do an inflation adjustment, we would need to multiply them by 1.47. That would come out to about $63,000 for the 3 bedroom houses, and about $38,000 for the cottages. There’s no way I could have them built for nearly that little today, but then a new house would have functional advantages. But then that’s not counting my labor either.
There were two main reasons I built the new house, rather than look for another house to move on to the site. One was that I was tired of dealing with the negative side of old houses: the lead paint, and the other nastier sides of old construction. The other was that house moving had gotten so expensive, and I wanted to find out what it would cost to build new. Well, it ended up to around $100/sq. ft., which is quite a bit more, but then it’s a much nicer house, and worth a lot more. You get what you pay for, more or less.
In 2005, we finally got a proper internet connection, and I discovered another virtual world out there, including some automotive sites. I became a regular reader to TTAC, having found my way there through a link or search to their GM Death Watch Series. Now that really resonated with me, given that I’d started my personal GM Death Watch sometime in the early-mid 80s, if not sooner.
TTAC was willing to accept submissions and publish them if they met the editor’s approval. So one dark and stormy night (literally) in December of 2006, I wrote an article about the challenges of the then-upcoming new generation of Chrysler’s minivans. It was accepted, and I was encouraged to keep cranking out articles of all sorts for TTAC, including a weekly Auto-Biography series, that was run every Saturday and became the genesis of the COAL series that have become a staple here at CC. And son Ed eventually joined me there, and later became Executive Editor of TTAC. And went on to his career as an industry watchdog of sort.
I threw myself into blogging, and then left TTAC and started this new website in 2011, but the past couple of years I’ve had to throttle back quite a bit, as there have been deferred projects and maintenance, as well as work on the new house and our own house.In 2008 or so, I managed to build this little studio apartment on the back of one of my houses, to replace a crappy, rotted one that had been there.
It also gave me the chance to build something new for a change, which really is more creative than fixing up old houses. And it was a warm-up to the big new house.
I’ve been mostly enjoying getting back into the physical world more, as blogging can get to be a bit of an addiction. Finding the right balance is key. I love blogging, but it’s a bit like falling down a rabbit hole for me when I get started on a the scent of something interesting.
Well, you know all of that. But I’ve been asked repeatedly here about my moved houses, so I finally got around to them, thanks to a Labor Day weekend spoiled bu horrible smoke from forest fires. Needless to say, it’s worked out better financially than I could have imagined, due to sweat equity and the strong real estate and rental markets here. I have the independence I was looking for, and I enjoy keeping my fleet of “Curbside Classics” in decent shape. They’re ideal rental houses, as they’re all relatively simple and uncomplicated, built out of durable and basic materials, and easy to keep functioning properly.
A lot like my ’66 F-100, actually. Which all ties together somehow. I knew back then sitting in the back of its bed what was important to me, and that there was a future out there for me and my truck, and even my son, but I just hadn’t yet quite figured out the details. All in good time.
Related:
Truck Of A Lifetime: 1966 Ford F100 – Thirty Years of Hauling Shit, Cheaply
1986 Mercedes 300E and the Birth of Telemundo – Dreams Fulfilled; Dreams Dashed
My New Curbside Classic: 2220 Monroe Street – I Built It My Way
Wow! Thanks for putting it all together. I knew a lot of it from our conversations over the years but wasn’t sure of how all the economics of it worked etc as well as the timeline.
I totally understand what you mean re: moving from Los Gatos – we just moved from our old neighborhood (but just across town) due to a lot of the same reasons as you moved. And are now finding ourselves in a very different environment that is much more to our liking. The zero debt living is an excellent boon as well, it removes a lot of stresses. If only healthcare would get figured out (correctly) soon…
Having a small 2-bedroom rental such as yours in a college town (not ours town but one a little to the North), we’ve also found grad students to be excellent tenants. We need to start looking for more little places, the eventual goal as with you is to be self-sufficient without any kind of daily grind besides periodic maintenance/repairs.
Healthcare when you’re self-employed is a scary proposition in this country. I managed to surf that for two decades, until Obamacare came along, which made it a lot less scary. But it’s still not nearly good enough.
The truth is this: I should have never bought health insurance since leaving Telemundo and just self-insured (and gone abroad if we needed something substantial). We work hard to stay healthy and hardly ever need any health care, especially me. I’d be way ahead now.
Of course I could say the same about insurance on the houses too. I have brought the values on my houses down quite a bit, as I’m willing to take some of the risk, and if I need to rebuild, I can do it cheaper. I’ve never had a homeowner’s claim ever.
I’m a firm believer in finding ways to manage risk other than the path of least resistance. But Stephanie is a bit more conservative.
An epic tale!
And wow, a Diamond Reo!
Wow, I’m tired after reading that! (c:
I thought I was a bit looney for taking on two VW projects at the same time, but a half-dozen houses? Incredible! Great account. I can relate to the aspect of having to learn all the different skills, having done much the same with our (still ongoing) four square farm house remuddle.
Most impressive!
Thanks for filling in the missing period in the auto-biography series. I hope the smoke has cleared and you can get back to your regular routine.
Very interesting that you had educated and prepared yourself just for that opportunity, and were able to take advantage of it while keeping overhead and debts low. Yes, you probably should have hired a contractor but that’s knowing what you know now, and keeping the debts low would have looked good going forward.
Speaking of knowing now, ten years ago I should have bought ten houses for $30k each in the dodgy parts of Hamilton that are now gentrified and go for $300k. But I admit that I lack that entrepreneurial forsight and sit here at my desk job. 🙁
Thanks for a great and long story Paul.
A great read! Add me to those in awe of your skills (and the way you acquired them).
I love the old windows that you restored. That is one thing I hate about modern construction is the vinyl windows that are so common. The old units had lots of glass and thin mullions which made for a look that is very difficult to duplicate. They are not efficient and are a bear come window-washing day, but they are beautiful to look at.
That was one of the things that stood out to me, too–those fantastic windows. It made me quite glad to see them restored rather than replaced with modern plate windows.
Paul, Thanks so much for all of this comprehensive and detailed information. I’ve been thinking about buying a lot or an older home and so this is very timely.
Thank you for taking the time to chronicle that- it is a fantastic read.
Having done rental property, I’m familiar with the work and risks, and the need for some luck – good tenants and a burst of market appreciation. I weathered a “lost decade” of property appreciation, prices in 2012 were about what they were in 2000. With a recent surge in prices, this was my year to cash out and not worry anymore about the dice role on new tenants at turnover time.
I’m a bit jealous that your properties seem to attract grad students and that they tend to stick around. I attracted decent tenants by having modest but nice homes in good neighborhoods with good schools. Still, I had to weed through some bad prospects. The most interesting was a woman that was obviously running an escort service from her prior rental, and it seemed her landlord was putting his property up for sale to get her out. She had no documentable income, but was pretty desperate for a house – she had a kid and wanted to keep her in the good area school. After turning her down for lack of documentable income, she called me in an aggressive way and offered me a 20% rent premium. Lacking any desire to deal with an escort business running from my house (and explaining THAT to my wife), the prospect of extra money didn’t interest me at all.
My typical tenants were young couples on their way up, and during the recession, couples recovering economically – we had jobs and attracted a lot of new people to the area (saving my butt, the rental market was strong during the recession). The problem with ambitious tenants is that we are an ownership oriented market and they were just biding a short time until they could buy. I was lucky to keep people for two years. Turnover is a LOT of work.
My turnover is still higher than I’d like it to be, and yes it is a lot of work. My summers are the busy season. My units average 2-3 years between turnovers, although the last two years it’s been worse. I though I was done for this year, but I just got notice that a young couple with a new baby has just bought a house.
I’ve been able to turn over most of the units within 1-3 days. Clean, touch-up paint, and go. Renting them is the easy part; folks were ripping them out of my hands this summer.
That was a great read, Paul. It resonated with me because of both my and Merilee’s (my late wife’s) experiences with houses. We never did any remodeling ourselves because her father had had the remodeling bug, and she wanted never again to live in a house while it was being remodeled.
I should add a few words about the White Elephant. This was a listing that Merilee took toward the end of her career as a Realtor. It was a huge two-story house built not long after the turn of the century. It had originally been built in Kirkland, Washington, and had been barged and moved up the hill to a location west of Purdy. To give an idea of its size, the main beam under it was a 35-foot-long 14×14-inch timber cut from one tree. It was a total project house: there was no glass in most of the windows, the plaster was all gone, some inside walls were gone, and you could see out through some of the outside walls. But somehow most of the hardwood floors remained in refinishable condition, and there was no structural rot.
It was owned by an investment club with ten members who lived in places like Mount Vernon and Enumclaw, and all of whose signatures were required on any paperwork related to the listing and sale. Fortunately faxed signatures were just becoming acceptable…. There were more than a dozen clouds on the title that had to be dealt with before the sale could be completed. Merilee figured later that the pay rate of her time spent on the White Elephant could be stated in cents per hour. But after showing it to several prospects who walked away mumbling and shaking their heads, she showed it to a young couple who promptly fell in love with it, bought it, and through considerable effort made a fine residence out of it.
I’m glad it found the right buyers.
“We never did any remodeling ourselves because her father had had the remodeling bug, and she wanted never again to live in a house while it was being remodeled.”
My older son falls in this camp, but the younger and his wife are rehabbing a foreclosure her parents picked up cheap. Ty works for a local contractor and rapidly has exceeded my skill set. They should do well when they sell it.
I always considered myself in that camp as well. When I was a kid, my folks bought an older house that needed work. Dad started right in on many projects… and then lost interest. We lived with bare plaster walls and no kitchen cabinets for about 15 years. I have no idea how mom put up with that.
Due to that (and other similar stories), I considered myself genetically predisposed to unfinished projects. But 2 years ago my wife and I bought… well… an older house that needed work. No bare plaster here (yet), but lots of projects waiting to be done. It was akin to buying a used Jaguar — pretty to look at, but really it’s more work than any clear-thinking person would get themselves into.
I understand how this can happen. I bought a house in 1992 not for from where Paul lived in Los Gatos. It was a smallish 1400 SF house with 3/2 on a biggish 8400 SF lot. We had two kids in 1999 and in 2004 decided we wanted to get a bigger house. Moving was too expensive and we liked our neighborhood and decided to add on, and remodel the remainder.
Well, we got it done in 2005 and we didn’t get around to finishing the backyard landscaping due to funds until 2016. The kids bath is still original for the same $ reason. Now the kids are in college, so we are in no hurry to spend money on redoing the bath when they are away and we are spending money on two college tuitions.
I envy Paul and his ability to pull the trigger and get away from the Bay Area. It has been a good area to me and my wife in terms of work and both of our families are here, but it is hugely expensive to live here with housing costing a fortune, high taxes and huge traffic issues.
Gre
A most entertaining lunch hour read combining so many diverse interests of mine. It also holds many lessons for those of us contemplating the next act in life after a corporate career.
Moving the old houses to the newly created lots probably helps preserve the unique character of this neighborhood. Paul’s subdivision and house-moving activities provide affordable options to grad students in a neighborhood apparently in the process of being transformed by tear-down/new-build activity while providing excellent cash-flow. The recent price appreciation is the frosting on the cake and underscores the first-mover advantage to forward thinking.
Oddly enough, the house that proved to be the most vexing remodel is my favorite. I love the sun porch and open floor plan, so all the effort was worth it.
It’s by far my favorite of the moved houses. the one I would move into if Stephanie and I ever break up. 🙂
I have to say I kind of like the kitchen in the 1947 house. Are those floor tiles and cabinets original? I have to say I prefer old houses in the same state I prefer old cars to be in — completely original and well cared for. So many people nowadays will take an old house and just put in trendy granite countertops and stainless steel appliances, which to me feel completely out of place in a house like that.
The cabinets are original. I put down the vinyl comp tiles, like I did with a number of my other kitchens, for their remarkable durability. A ding or so doesn’t really make a difference. But their maintenance can be a bit of a chore, as in when the build up of floor polish needs to be stripped and new polish put down. Quite the workout.
I did repaint the cabinets, and took the doors off some of them. And glued down a new layer of laminate on the counters.
“A ding or so doesn’t really make a difference.”
True, which is why I love that kind of floor. However, when you put those down and the woman in your life walks all over it in heels where the little nail has become exposed, those floors will get little divots all over them. Ask me how I know. 🙂
Agreed. I have concluded that there are only two viable ways to own a home. Either be in continuous remodel/update mode so that everything is redone every 5-10 years or just leave. it. alone. If you are there long enough what is there will cycle back to being cool and unique and some folks like us will appreciate it. Unfortunately, my own house is somewhere in between, which is the worst of all worlds.
Thank you. I find this intriguing and inspiring. So many previous context clues have been woven together here, and it’s a fantastic saga. Your accomplishment, in building a self-sustaining “empire” to allow yourself and your family to realize your passions and interests is truly the American Dream in the 21st Century. It’s commendable and enviable, for sure.
In many ways I’ve lamented not taking a direction laid before me 20 years ago that might have resulted in similar circumstances. Neither I nor my relationship with my partner in that endeavor had the fortitude to move me in the proposed direction at that time, and while I regret that not one whit, it is wonderful to read of your success. Your strong bond and (I’d presume) mutual trust, respect and support for and from Stephanie surely went a long way to making this possible. My hat’s off.
I’m also very interested in Rastra Block construction, not having seen this before, so you’ve given me something new to study and research for one of my future “Dreamer’s Projects”. In recent years since I’ve settled into a now obviously long-term relationship, which will clearly not result in our family being more than the two of us and a couple pets, I’ve begun to invest more and more time into researching and planning for a future homebuilding project. Most recently I’ve abandoned the idea of living in a full-on “Tiny Home” (a bit TOO much togetherness is not always a great thing), but would still like to explore options for building a sustainable and low impact but relatively low cost small-footprint permanent structure that might allow us to do a lot of our own work. This is a method that hadn’t been on my radar until now. Very interesting.
Rastra makes sense in certain situations, but one would need to consider going that route carefully. It’s not really a DIY undertaking unless one is prepared to really understand its issues and be prepared for them, like possible blow-outs when the concrete is poured into the cells.
Tiny houses are a whole other ball game. Appealing on many levels, but challenges too, as in their space, especially for two. But the biggest issue is where to site them. Unless utility hookups are available, it can get to be a bit challenging without them.
Just scanning some of the responses here made me think of another interesting tidbit that I gleaned from this piece, Paul. My own 3 children were also Waldorf educated, although I was admittedly the less “Waldorfy” parent, often spiriting them away to verboten locales like a mall or a multiplex (strictly for the socio-educative value, of course). These days I’ve got a close friend who’s struggling to decide how she’ll school her own 4 year old. With a Master’s in Special Education and almost a decade in the NYC Public School system, she’s fairly certain that she won’t go that route, but in light of the child’s steady media diet thus far she feels as if the Waldorf ship has sailed. I’m so removed from that life and time that I have no idea how or if Steiner’s tenets have been altered or bent to suit our times. I’d be curious to know if you’ve remained close enough to it to know. (This is of course way off topic here, but it’s been a long while since I’ve come across anyone familiar with it, so I’m curious.)
I’m not very current with that anymore, but the general approach is to try to keep kids from regular electronic exposure for as long as possible. How that plays out individual families (and schools) undoubtedly varies. Even back then there was considerable variance in individual kids’ exposure to tv and video games.
Limiting children’s exposure to electronic media is found to be generally good practice-current pediatrics and developmental psychology guidelines are to limit to nothing substantial for the first year or two, as infants and toddlers are learning about human relationships and the basics of language from their interactions with you. Then, limit to about half an hour from then on till school age, as the best way to build vocabulary is through having conversations with other people about shared experiences, the best way to build peer relationship skills is through playing with objects with other children, and the best way to develop reasoning skills is through messing around with the outside world, trying to understand how it all works. And you can’t do much of this with a TV or video game. These are guidelines-I’m sure many pediatricians and child psychologists have a DVD player in their SUV for the long family trips-but they do exist for good reasons. Read to your children!
I can’t always making learning “fun” for my students, Paul, but today’s installment was hugely entertaining and informative.
I’m just enough of a do-it-yourselfer (both homes and cars) to appreciate your far-greater knowledge and abilities, much less the fiscal savvy to make it work–while serving as husband and father, no less.
I’ve lived in college towns my whole adult life, and never had the constitution to be a landlord—however fair-minded–but there are always “transients,” and so a need for rentals. I’m happy that most of your grad students have been OK tenants–I’d be surprised if otherwise.
I’m not grateful for the fires near you, but if they prompted you to sit down and pull this fine tale together for us, that’s a valuable “upside.”
Warmest regards, as always…..
Fascinating, Paul, thanks for sharing.
Inspirational!
I left SF in ’92. Similar story. Iraq1 was over, Army downsizing, early retirement offered. I remember well the Norcal housing and economy bust.
Having spent lots of time in the sticks with the Army, I went to semi-inside work. Still got out-and-about as a salesman, but disappointingly non-physical work compared to Army life. Not sure what I expected and I generally find it pointless to 2nd guess life choices. Very rarely though, someone says or writes something that makes me wonder “what if”.
I salute both your writing and your life choices. Good choice of trucks too.
Speaking as someone who grew up in the middle of multiple new-builds and renovations, I’m impressed.
Mr. Niedermeyer,
Thank you for the entertaining history of your life.
I had no idea that you are so multitacular.
Cheers!
multitacular
I’m still trying to figure out exactly what that word is supposed to mean. “multitaskular”?
My first thought was “well of course Paul is multicellular”
In our darkest days, when we have nothing else going for us, we can at least be thankful for multicellularity. That is not to cast aspersions on unicellular organisms, just to to show some appreciation for the tissues and organs that are often taken for granted, yet which make appreciating houses, cars, and multicellularity itself possible.
Perhaps Mr. Trautman was trying to create a portmanteau word for multiply spectacular.
You were born in the wrong century Paul. If you had lived a 100+ years ago you would have become land baron with your financial and building skills.
You are to be commended for being a true Renaissance man!
This was a great read.
As one struggling to remedy and redo a number of items in one house, doing so on six is an exhausting thought. However, I will state that learning new skills in ones 40s (or any age for that matter) is a very good thing.
Your ability to foresee a lucrative outcome is quite remarkable – you were able to see the forest in spite of the trees.
First & foremost : thank you for giving your Children books instead of TV ~ this was one of the very few things my Parents got right .
” You are to be commended for being a true Renaissance man!” + 1,000 ! . so much rich detail and ideas here .
What you have written and described here can be used as a primer for an ambitious and talented man like your self .
I never got the hammer and nails thing sad to say .
-Nate
Paul, its pretty clear you’re living your best life. And you’ve created a fantastic legacy in both the virtual and non-virtual world. Thanks for a great read.
I think most of my thoughts have been said better in the previous comments, but the thing that really stands out to me is your fabulous use of color.
As much as we complain about tan and silver cars, I think the overwhelmingly beige world of real estate is even worse.
All those cute houses in such good condition must make for a charming little neighborhood. I shudder over the tear-down-and-rebuilds in the area. And thanks for the story.
Actually, the few so far are pretty tasteful. Buyers who want to live in our neighborhood won’t go for the usual pap.
Here’s a good example, but what a price. $522,500 for 1875 sq ft.
https://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/2726-Monroe-St_Eugene_OR_97405_M15510-64794
Not bad at all!
And he’s building a couple more next to it right now.
And I have a building permit to build a new 2000 sq ft. house on one of the two lots I still own. I need to get on that, but probably not until next year.
I’m from Chico, Ca, and went through the smoke coming back from the WPC meet in Tacoma, only to end up with fires all around Chico and living in smoke. The Ponderosa fire destroyed one of my best friends (I don’t have that many left) properties near Lake Oroville. He lost the residence, a custom built motorhome, two Mercedes 450 SEL 6.9 sedans, two 70’s Blazers, a new Ram pickup, and two drag ski boat campaigned in the 60’s, sure there was insurance but not enough. I fairly recently found curbside classics and have added comment when I thought it pertinent. I’m just starting to recognize the core group and like to feel there’s a connection. Losing my lady to cancer this year still has depression with it, but I need to help direct my son through this too. I was forced into retirement by a company buying the property where my auto restoration/detail shop had been for years, and with my hip screwed up I have been wondering about long term plans.In my teens I built houses working for a friends father’s construction company, and still know how, as soon as the hip is solid, it may be a viable avenue. The property I have is worth enough to buy and rent out.other properties.One place looked at is a entire model subdivision that was abandoned after zoning laws were changed, but it would be feasable to improve the area and is zoned to rent out whats there. It also is a short distance from the college.
I hope in car blogs I don’t come off as a know it all, but my experience is a bit different than most. In my lifetime, I have had over 1000 cars pass through my hands, so I have experience and know what these drove like and have been lucky enough to have good friends who had the expensive exotics I couldn’t afford myself. I still find myself looking for weird or strange cars, I just don’t buy as many of them. I was wondering if you took the 300E to the Fremont Ohlone College Chrysler meets. I went every year, mostly with my Imperials. You dont see many 300E’s. Thank you for a glimpse of your life, possibly creating alternatives in mine.
Sorry about your, and your friend’s losses.
My 300E was a Mercedes, not a Chrysler, and was my daily driver. I’d love a 300E of that other persuasion, though! 🙂
What a great read!
In the early 1960s, my parents bought a house in Findlay, Ohio that was going to be torn down to build a parking lot. The contractor tore down the entire second story, then the house was transported 10 miles to our farm. A full basement had been put in prior to the house being moved out there.
After being set on the foundation, the second-story walls were put back into place and a new roof was installed. My dad partially finished the upstairs and the downstairs was completely redone. While all of this was going on, we lived in the basement.
My mom died in 1969, and my dad sold the farm. The new owner tore down the house and divided what had been our front yard and pasture into 2-3 lots. Today, the entire neighborhood has completely changed.
Thank you for sharing that epic story. Congratulations on seeing a series of opportunities and taking them. I really enjoyed reading that and will probably do so again.
Of course it was never straightforward or risk free, but the narrative makes the outcome look easy and logical, and that’s the skill, I guess. Well done!
Paul, thank you so much for this piece — I’ve read snippets of your various projects over the years, but never put it all together. To say that I am impressed at your work would be an understatement.
This was both enjoyable and educational to read today. I’ve wondered about how houses were moved – now I know. Incidentally, a few years ago, my City tried to give away a 1920s-era colonial — on the condition that someone move it. They found no takers, and tore it down. Sadly, here in Northern Virginia, there aren’t too many people who appreciate older homes or architecture. I’m glad to hear of someplace where that’s not the case.
Thank you, Paul, and congratulations.
Been waiting a long time for the full story of your moved houses, and to say I’m impressed, Paul, would be the understatement of the year. The fact that you learned carpentry and the skills needed to get the job done by on the job training was such a complete turn around from your TV station management jobs in California.
I moved from SoCal to Vancouver Wa in ’89 with little money and a 19ft ’69 Kenskill travel trailer, actually wound up in a trailer park in Camas, Wa. for around $200 mo. By ’91 I got a job offer in a VW dealership in Reseda, Ca, and moved back towing a 32ft 5th wheel trailer that I bought to replace the Kenskill, this thing was in poorer condition than I realized and I got rid of it quickly after arriving in California, for a ’74 Pioneer 29ft 5th wheel in great condition for it’s age. Managed to find a couple of private residences with full RV hookups in the SF Valley to park and live in it cheaply. Saved as much as I could, by ’97 I could take no more of California, parents found me a rental house in Vancouver that had RV parking, 988 sq ft. 3 bedroom 1 and a half bath 1975 ranch, moved my niece and her young family up to the house from San Jose and sublet the house to them, with me living in the trailer in the backyard.
Found a job right away, and in mid ’98 the owner of my rental house wanted to sell, had moved to the mid west. Long story short, I offered 90k (they wanted 110k) and settled for 94k. I put 30% down and was able to pay off the 30 year loan in a little under 5 years. In late 2008 I was laid off in the great recession, got Obama’s one year unemployment, and when that ran out I looked for a foreclosure. My parents needed my care by this time, mom passed in 2010 and dad in 2013, so I was able to care for them without trying to hold down a job while doing this. Found a 1943 720 sq ft 2 bedroom bungalow for $85k, (paid cash, had 100k in retirement savings) was actually a short sale, and had been remodeled in 2006, including new roof. Good for me because I’m not much of a carpenter, though have improved doing as many repairs as possible on my house over the years. Found a great tenant after the first 2 that each stayed 2 years, this one is going on 4 years and says she wants to stay for life.
The nieces family is now grown and they are moving out in a couple of months, but next January I can start Social Security, and live in my house at last. I did buy a better ’89 Layton 35 ft 5th wheel with slideouts around 2002 and sold to aging ’74 Pioneer, but I’m looking forward to move into the house and sell the trailer. So I retired at age 52, and now at almost age 62 am debt free with 2 paid for houses. Living in the trailer still beat the hell out of the dealership rat race, I was getting burned out on this big time.
I enjoyed reading this post and the skills Paul has acquired. I have done many of the same things he has done in my employment in remolding and fire and water damaged homes. My greatest challenge was repairing the fire damage to a farmhouse in Roy. OR that was built in the 1840’s and sat on a fieldstone foundation. It was an ell in the middle of a stepdown. I had 3 different floor heights, 3 roof heights and 7 top plate heights to contend with plus the fact the floor joists were hewn logs and wall was balloon framed and the wall studs varied in width from 4 to 6 inches. plus the owner wanted the gable end wall to be almost all windows. Got it rebuilt and passed inspection but it took ten years off my life. Never again, it would have been easier to tear down half the house and start over but the insurance company required it to go back the way it was rather than start new. I ran into many of these situations where it would have been cheaper and taken less time to tear down and rebuild new. I guess I should be thankful because a lot of contractors are not able to do a lot of the things required in fire and water damage work. It is a specialized skill and unless you know the codes and what is acceptable you can loose a lot of money fast. Another one was a big two story 20×30 garage over by Reed College. Had to be rebuilt with no modern framing fasteners which meant ledger boards, collar ties and the roof was 15\12. Another one I don’t want to do again
I remember seeing houses moved in the late 1950s when the interstate highways were being built in the St. Louis area. As the right-of-way of the highway tore thru north St. Louis (I-70), several houses were moved to north county to the inner suburbs. Some were frame/wood bungalows, but one I recall was an all-brick bungalow coming up the next street where we moved to because my parent’s home was also being taken by I-70.
That was an impressive thing to see! That house wound up only a couple blocks away, and it’s still there.
Amazing life journey, Paul.
I’m very happy I was able to stick out the corporate world ’til I retired, but am much happier now, if not as “rich”, monetarily speaking!
Wow, you have led an incredible life Paul!
I haven’t been to Germany, so I’m not truly informed to say this, but what a Germanic/Teutonic approach to retiring from the 9-5 and “relaxing”!
I get your point. But I also (regretfully) omitted the fact that we bought the Dodge Chinook in 2002, and spent many long trips on the road, including two to Baja, all over the Western US, and as far east as Colorado.
Once I finished the first main batch, my subsequent work on the houses tended to be in the summer. And when there was/is no building project, except for turnover in the summer, the whole rest of the year is largely open. Of course CC does take up a bit of that… 🙂
Paul, I suspect we’d have a lot to talk about if we were sitting at the bar, and I suspect I’d be taking a lot of notes. I’ve been working on my own time and my own dime on a duplex in Detroit I bought off the tax auction for peanuts before the city went bankrupt. Through doing that, I’ve learned a ton about what goes into a building, and I’ve taken a house that had been abandoned for years and made it (at present) nearly livable.
Since starting that I’ve actually made my way into real estate development as a career, and now although I still have a company and a boss I report to, I’m working for a mission-driven non-profit that’s super cool to work for and is doing work that I’m proud to talk about. And, I’m doing the same sort of project rehab/management stuff for my day job, too.
And the really funny thing? I started out in television, later decided it was no longer a good fit, and decided to do something completely different.
Crazy how life goes eh?
I just noticed something… either I missed some detail or something doesn’t add up. You had five new lots (seven lots total but two already had houses on them, if I understand your pre and post-subdivision diagrams correctly). The city was giving away seven houses, as a package deal. Now I’m dying to know… what happened to the other two houses?
And on an unrelated subject, I’m going to guess the house with the “atrociously weird floor plan” was the same one that was “majorly expanded from a tiny cottage in the 1930s”, am I right? That would explain the weird floor plan if someone just build some additional rooms wherever they would fit. And that would explain why that dormer window is so weirdly off-center, if a large part of that house was an addition.
I had two other lots. I showed them; one of them was the sloping lot where the two-level house went, and the other was one of the cottages that went into the lot behind my house, where I later built the new red house in front.
No, actually. It’s the one in the picture above where I wrote that. It has four sort-of levels.
Thanks for the story. Debt-free living is the best.
It’s great to get this gap filled in in your adventure, Paul… bravo!
I have to say that I really like the 1866 house in Los Gatos, CA. That’s a real gem. I didn’t know houses like that existed in that part of the country. Reminds me a little of my present house (pictured below) which was built in 1900.
I found your story very inspiring. I learned a lot too. I think it’s amazing that you followed your inspiration and took on incredible hardships to move and renovate those “free” houses, and making the whole thing profitable.
This is truly an American story with entrepreneurial spirit–doing real things and building something of lasting value–and it is a story that would never be known had you not written and photo-documented. Makes me wonder about all the other personal stories of people and what they accomplished that are unrecorded and will be ultimately forgotten.
Wow–that’s a beauty.
Thank you, Paul, for filling in this important part of your story and sharing your incredible talents with us. I say, as I work on cutting down just one kitchen cabinet so that the new microwave will fit over the stove. Your energy and ingenuity are inspiring, the result of a restless and productive spirit.
Thanks, also, for pointing out some of the environmental risks of working on old houses. Too many of the kids I work with come from old neighborhoods and have histories of diagnosed or, I suspect from their behavior, undiagnosed lead exposure from all the old paint on the walls or in the soil. I hope you have a good respirator for when you are sanding!
Maybe that would be a good post-environmental hazards in working on old iron (and wood) and how to prevent toxic exposure.
Paul, just one word is needed: “Bravo!” Then I might add: “Well done, Sir.”
Paul,
Very interesting article. Just how much did those years of Latin at ol’ LHS prepare you for a life of hands on construction???
My ex wife & I rented a moved house back in 96 ish. We didn’t know it was a moved house – just that it was a nice house for a good price. Everyone ELSE in the small town let us know how nice they looked now and where they were before, etc. We were the first tenants in it and it was really nice I have to say. It’s interesting to learn more about this kind of project.
Landlord lived across the road and ours was the first in line of three and the nicest and largest of the three. Had been moved so the Piggly Wiggly could build a bigger store.
The continuation in this discussion reminds me of one of the more impressive building moves I have been aware of. In 1930 the 8 story Indiana Bell Telephone Co. building was moved 52 feet and turned 90 degrees on its lot in order to make it compatible with an expansion. Over a roughly 30 day stretch the building was moved with all utilities hooked up and all employees staying at their desks/switchboards. The architect who suggested moving rather than demolition was Kurt Vonnegut, Sr.
A second picture showing rest of the move is in the first reply to this comment.
The second half of the move.
That’s AMAZING .
-Nate
Paul, you are my hero! Awsome.
Another ‘adventure’ –
http://mentalfloss.com/article/504449/want-live-snow-white-buy-cottage
Great read Paul. I live in San Jose and know Los Gatos very well. The SF Bay Area housing market has become a victim of its own success with little inventory and a lot of money from tech driving up prices. Houses in my neighborhood sell and developers have torn them down to build huge spec houses. One just sold down the street for $2M.
Here is an article highlighting the effect of Apple’s new campus on home prices near the campus. A house was sold for over $782K over the asking price (some of this was due to the realtor setting the price too low)
http://www.mercurynews.com/2017/09/14/tip-of-the-iceberg-more-on-the-sunnyvale-house-that-sold-for-782000-over-asking-and-what-it-all-means/
I would love to be in the rental business but it is virtually impossible to buy a home and rent it profitably in the Bay Area with a conventional loan.
So until the kids finish college, I am going to continue to work in tech until I can plot my exit.
Truly impressive–for the planning, the work you put in, and the fact that you saved seven houses from demolition. And the fact that it has worked well for you financially lets you enjoy the fruits of your labor. I wish I had half your ambition!
The sun porch with the rebuilt windows is my favorite detail, but my favorite house overall has to be the 1915 bungalow. A real looker inside and out.
Wow Paul! An amazing read. And an amazing life’s! I could not put this down even though I lost internet connection at least 4 times!
I have bought a fire damaged house with my then 19 year old son which we completely renovated and rented out. Then sold. It was a great father son experience and we made a few bucks too. Son went on to Alberta and started his own company building new houses. So I suppose he learned a few things about carpentry and life.
Thanks for the article!
Thanks for this insight into the other side of your life, which you allude to in many of your writings. Though to be frank it’s made me feel like I’m a lazy bum compared to you. Six years ago, we too cashed out of the Silicon Valley housing market (a mid-century ranch house in Los Altos, in our case) and moved … but just over the hill to a 1920’s bungalow in Santa Cruz. There our money bought roughly 2x the house, and a much higher quality of life, except for the commute. So a year later I retired. We own 2 rentals in the Bay Area (one inherited and co-owned with siblings); one was turnkey and one was “write check”, so they don’t keep me too busy except at turnover, but my wife still works full-time. At this point, I feel like the rent/purchase price/property tax ratios in the Bay Area don’t make residential rental real estate purchases very attractive. By the way, as a child we didn’t have TV until I started high school and my older sister had just graduated. We felt pretty neglected, but in hindsight it was very good for us. Our own kids (now grown) grew up with over the air TV only, no cable or satellite, and just one TV set in the house, though by the time they were in grade school there was Internet. We still only have one TV and no cable. So I read CC but have never watched car TV shows except MotorWeek and a few episodes of TopGear from YouTube.
Somehow I missed this one first time around. Great article Paul! I’m sure this is an inspiring story for many of us who dwell in the corporate world. I have also learned to do almost everything myself in the way of home repairs and minor construction projects. I find it very gratifying to do these things myself at a fraction of the cost of hiring a pro. This approach works for cars too. I keep two Subarus going with almost 300K miles each. A few years ago I spent $2K on a 2 post lift for the garage and wish I had done it sooner.
Thank you for the story, and also the links to the house moving videos. My grandparent’s beach house was moved, in the early 1940’s, from its original location on the bay to a site a mile up the road, where I always knew it, in response to repeated hurricane damage. The story in the family was that the mover left a glass of water on a table before the work began, claiming that the job would be done for free if it was spilled. The glass was checked, and the mover was paid, after the house was placed on its new foundation.
During my college years my family moved into that house, and, because it was a time of increasing real estate values along the New Jersey coast, many old summer beach cottages were transported inland to make way for larger houses. Though it was cool to see houses moving down the road, some were moved over narrow roads during busy traffic times to much grumbling from motorists.
More recently, in my current town, a bridge was built to carry a rail-trail over a road. Much of the assembly was done near its destination, and it was then moved down a narrow street, around a sharp turn, to be placed by a crane. It was a big deal in our small town, and I, along with many others came out to watch the move. They used motorized dollies at each corner, all of which were wired to a control box. The operator moved it down the street while his helpers scampered around, checking the level, making sure it didn’t hit anything. It was a slow, delicate operation, with much stopping, head-scratching and adjusting, and no shortage of sage advice from expert spectators, which the workers seemed to take in stride. The best part, in my opinion, was navigating the sharp turn, which they were able to do because each dolly was steerable.
It was the biggest thing to happen in our town, in my opinion, in the 15 years I have been here, and well worth standing around in the cold for a few hours. My son was proud to be the first kid to walk over the bridge after it was bolted in place.
Thanks for this. A good account of how to do things the right way, and I can only wish I got off the slacker train earlier as I surely would have done the same when one could get properties in Vienna for reasonable money. At least I’m living debt-free in a 700 sq/foot flat which I own, and planning on getting another similar flat to rent out in the area. Better late than never.
I reread this again over the last couple of days and still find it to be one of my favorite things I have read on CC. Some of the parallels/timing are weird – I was just starting out in my first post-college job right before you got let go from the station, same recession and the same geographic area.
Then almost twenty years later the next recession and we made (by choice before a possible downsizing happened) to sell and move a good distance away, also with very little kids. Also without any real clue about how to start over but armed with Bay Area real estate money (that just as you noted, now is significantly more than it was then but c’est la’vie) that helped tremendously. And now we are also heavily involved in the real estate and self-construction markets, but more remodel and resales than rentals at this point. And ZERO regrets regarding making the move.
Weirdly the university town (Laramie) where we have a rental and a dual-house rental prospect ongoing remodel project) was also just recently making available seven or eight small houses to whoever wanted them. I would actually have considered it seriously had I not read your story, in the end I realized the real time commitment and passed on it (besides not having any spare land in my portfolio 🙂 ), I happened to drive by a couple of months ago as they were in the end torn down due to no takers (but stripped of ANYthing of value including windows, doors, etc, just bare shells in the end).