113 Buffalo: A Renovation Adventure

As Michigan receives its summer share of storm wrath, it occurs to me that my house--built in 1890--has withstood perhaps a thousand such storms. There’s something humbling about hearing the rain assault us from outside, taking shelter with my family inside something so solid--a structure built, brick by brick, with obvious pride, by someone who died long before I was born. I cannot imagine what that brick mason from 1890 would think of modern Ypsilanti. But after his head was done spinning from all the technology, I imagine he’d be proud to see this house still standing.

As I’ve said before, it’s a passion of mine to watch a property that has seen better days recapture a piece of its past majesty. It’s even better if I can modernize it without compromising its historical significance and style.

My wife and I were drawn to the house on Buffalo Street and the lot across from it right away, but our enthusiasm was quickly diminished by a nasty crack running through the building’s Southeast corner. This was not the sort of scar that makes James Bond ruggedly handsome. It had scared away potential buyers. My wife and I had to decide whether we were ready to commit to a new chapter of our lives that would include the many trials of renovation. But in the end, the character of the home and its potential to be a cozy, even luxurious place to raise our daughter won out.

In the meantime, my father--an expert on buildings in general--left me a charming memo with the title, “25 reasons not to buy 113 Buffalo.”

The crack turned out to be a boon. The money we saved on purchasing the house was injected directly into the renovation, and we are proud to have combined our own designs with the original structure.

To have a real passion for renovation, I think you have to be a bit of a gambler. A fixer-upper can offer infinitely more character than something from the generic house factory. It can also become a void that swallows time and money with no regard. (Incidentally, I’ve found this is true of people as well. Still, I usually prefer the fixer-uppers.) In fact, two experienced people can look at the same property and see entirely different prospects. My father, whose opinion reflects significant expertise and experience, left mea charming memo during our decision-making process, with the title, “25 reasons you should not buy 113 Buffalo.” I’m sure he was flattered when I read his considerations carefully, then proceeded to buy the house.

But our gamble paid off. The house hasn’t given us any sucker punches that we couldn’t handle during the renovation.

We added a whole new kitchen, which does wonders to modernize any home. Thinking that the winter might be brutal on the second and third (yes, third) floors without heat, we added a furnace for each of those stories. A new air conditioning unit will get us through the hottest days. A new master bedroom with adjacent master bath makes us feel right at home. We are converting an extra bedroom into a massive walk-in closet. Or a gym, or a nursery... (This is dependent on whether fitness ambition trumps wardrobe considerations, etc. Flexibility is of prime importance in family life, I say.)

All told, the house will be 6509 sq ft of prime living space. (1600 of that is basement, but good basement nonetheless.)

This coming spring, we plan to restore the home’s two missing porches. It’s a goal of mine to be sitting on one with a glass of lemonade by the end of summer 2015. From that vantage, I can look at the vacant lot across the street. What’s so appealing about the expanse of nothing at 402 S. Washington? I like staring at it, planning. By spring of 2016, I hope to have created a sort of “urban pocket park” where my daughter and the neighborhood children can play together.

Pocket parks are one of my favorite urban development phenomena. They beautify the streetwith greenery, and they provide a welcome reminder of the world outside asphalt and traffic lights. Many people--especially children--can’t readily get to a green space. Many people are lacking a quiet place to sit and read, or simply watch life go by. It’s amazing that you can bring a measure of peace and dignity to a community with a few trees and a bench, but you can. They say good fences make good neighbors, but I have to think that having a free, safe place for children to play together is even better.

In the end, I think the Buffalo Street home will be a great success story. It’ll be a respectful marriage of the historic and the modern. I’m proud of our efforts at giving history its due deference, while allowing ourselves the modern amenities and luxuries that make a house a home. Perhaps in another hundred years, someone will be stand in our kitchen, marveling at the quaint Early 21st Century style its inhabitants adopted. Perhaps they’ll shut down their holograms for the evening, and listen to the rain beat the same bricks braving the storm here tonight.