industrialchemy: Two men with fountain in background. (Default)
 Dear friend,

I have mostly posted here about old houses but an even bigger love is old books. I love reading them and (re)discovering forgotten ideas. I love picking through the shelves of a used book store in search of hidden treasures. The smell, the feel of the pages, the look of the old type, all contribute to the experience of reading old books.

Last year, I set out to put my thoughts about old books into words. Not only that, but I explained my practices for developing understanding and making connections. I'm pleased to report that the result of this work is now available at my website.

Since then, I have been working to reconstruct the medieval thinking system of Ramon Llull (Raymund Lull in older texts). More to come soon!
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From: Wheeling, West Virginia

Wednesday, 1:15 pm

Dear Friend,

I'm writing to you from the municipal courtroom.

There's a little bit of time before the judge gets here and I brought my notepad.

I'm here because the city would like to demolish the Project House, and I must regularly show progress on the renovation to keep them from seizing it and tearing it down.

In fairness, it was abandoned for about a decade and ill-maintained for a long time before that. It was a prime demolition target.

Fortunately, the building inspector has been patient as I slowly repair it.

Situations like this are rarely shown in the idealized house restorations of social media.

We see the gruesome before-pictures, the action shots of work in progress, and the beautiful after-pictures.

What's missing is the regulatory environment that we have to work within if we want to make any progress.

Red tape just isn't Instagram worthy. But it's a necessary, if distasteful, consideration in most house restorations.

That said, I'm not going to talk too much about the details here because every jurisdiction will have different rules and ways of doing things.

All went well at the hearing. Another stay of execution for the Project House.

Peace,

Mel Jeffcoat

P.S. Keep an eye out for another video tomorrow.

P.P.S. Check out the Industrial Alchemy YouTube channel if you haven't already. 

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 From: Wheeling, West Virginia

Wednesday, 8:30pm

Dear Friend,

"My brain is full of hoses right now, don't ask."

This was my response to being asked for something clever to put on eldest son's signboard. So of course he put that down verbatim.

I felt like I had been working on the plumbing in the Penny House for years, although it has only been about a month.

As he asked the question, I was preparing to crawl up under the kitchen sink yet again to finish replacing the hose and sprayer.

Like most plumbing projects, this one had several false starts and a couple of trips to Lowes before it all came together.

That day, we could finally use the kitchen sink without being soaked by a gyrating, leaking sprayer.

There have been a few other plumbing wins, but I won't bore you with the details.

Pretty much all of plumbing is just permutations of making the water stay in the pipes and only come out in approved locations on command.

So far, the downstairs toilet tank is not one of the wins. The rusted bolt is still stuck in the tank.

Several liberal applications of Rustoleum's rust remover haven't budged it, but I have the big guns on the way. Yes, Naval Jelly.

In the upstairs bathroom, I've laid down new subfloor almost everywhere except under the toilet.

Under the sink was the last section to put in last night. The vanity and sink have been removed so it was just a matter of cutting slots in the end of the OSB to go around the pipes.

I was tired and hungry by that point, but determined to finish it.

I had to make a few passes with the jigsaw to get the pipe slots just right, but soon enough I was attaching the OSB to the joists and existing floorboards.

I was down to the last screw.

Partway through driving it, I heard water running below me. "Probably just the kitchen sink," I thought. Eldest was in the kitchen eating dinner. I continued to drive the screw.

The water sounds were now much louder. The OSB was a little bit tight against one of the supply pipes, so I thought when I tightened it down it might have pushed on the pipe enough to break a fitting.

I rushed downstairs and yes, it was raining in the kitchen again.

Some chaos later, the water was off and I was unscrewing the floor that I had just put down and prying up the floorboard over the pipes.

That's when I discovered that...I had drilled right through a pipe with that last screw.

I sure felt stupid.

Fortunately, I had a few couplers left and was able to replace that section without a trip to, you guessed it, Lowes.

Before I cover it back up I intend to install a nail guard to keep anyone else from doing the same thing.

I will also draw the location of the pipe on the subfloor in Sharpie, for the education and amusement of whoever works on it next.

Many of you have asked for a video tour of the houses, and I'm happy to report that we were able to record a tour of the Penny House on Saturday.

You can see it at my brand new YouTube channel here.

Peace,

Mel Jeffcoat

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 From: Wheeling, West Virginia, covered in smoke

Wednesday, 9pm

Dear Friend,

Last week I asked for suggestions on what to call the house next door to the project house. I got some good ideas.

However, the house itself has spoken.

Last Friday, after I had posed the question, eldest son spent the day there cleaning while I was at work.

"I think the house is haunted," he told me that evening, "or at least has a spirit. Every time I turned around there were pennies and beads and sparkly things everywhere. They just kept appearing, even after I cleaned them up!"

We believe that the house has spoken. Her name is Penny and she said, "Make me pretty again. I want to be pretty!"

We got some more work done on the bathroom last weekend. I had hoped to leave the existing subfloor under the sink and toilet and just replace the really damaged parts near the tub.

Closer inspection showed that it would be best to replace it all and have a solid surface to work with.

The sink vanity had a lot of water damage to the sides and shelf. I disconnected everything and pulled that out.

The front and door is still solid, so rather than buying a poor quality vanity for too much money I will buy a sheet of good plywood for a third of the price and rebuild it myself.

The toilet needs to come out so that the new subfloor can go underneath. However, this is currently the only working toilet, so I got to work fixing the other one.

It needed all new guts. The rubber gasket and flapper had sort of melted and deformed. The tank bolts were so rusted that they had fused to the holes in the porcelain. Liberal amounts of PB Blaster got one of them free, but the other is still stuck.

So the bathroom remodel has become a bit more involved than I expected, but we are still making progress.

Peace,

Mel Jeffcoat

P.S. At least the air conditioner works!

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 From: Wheeling, West Virginia

Wednesday, 8:45 pm

Dear Friend,

​

I sat down to write this newsletter more than an hour ago, but then I suddenly remembered something I had wanted to look up on Facebook. One thing led to another, and here we are. An hour older and nothing to show for it.

The internet is bane and blessing. I appreciate the vast amounts of information available at a click, and the interesting little communities that sometimes form around obscure subjects. I'm not so fond of losing hours of time to meaningless scrolling.

But enough ranting about technology.

I've been working on the house next door to the project house lately. I was able to buy it and the empty lot between them last summer for only $10k.

This house was occupied up until a few years ago, and is in much better starting condition than the project house. The plan was for my oldest son to spend the summer home from college living there and helping out with the renovation(s).

Well, he is definitely helping but it has taken longer than planned to get the house ready. Partly because I started a full-time office job a month ago, and partly because there are more problems than I had thought.

When we turned the water on for the first time, it started raining in the kitchen. A pipe elbow had worked its way loose in the bathroom directly overhead. That's now fixed, but cutting the hole in the bathroom floor to get to it revealed that a lot of the wood near the tub was rotting.

We're going to rip most of the bathroom floor down to the original wood, replace structural pieces as necessary, then lay new plywood over it to make a solid surface for floating vinyl tile.

Yes, I said vinyl.

Look, there's a lot of cheap, ugly vinyl flooring out there. But some of it is decent.

The good thing about floating tile/planks is that there isn't any adhesive or fasteners. It can be removed easily and without causing any damage. I think it's a great way to get a finished floor quickly without making it more difficult to upgrade later. And some of the fancier ones look pretty nice without breaking the bank.

Possibly, we will be able to get those floors finished this weekend. If not, at least we will make progress.

I read something several years ago (and can't remember the source). It's probably something that has been floating around with multiple sources, but it has stuck with me. Paraphrased, it said that people always overestimate what they can accomplish in a year, but underestimate what they can accomplish in five years.

Meaning, persistent work pays off, even if it's slower than you think it should be.

Peace,

Mel Jeffcoat

P.S. What should I call this house in the newsletter? "Next door to the project house" is a little clunky for everyday (or week) use.


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From: Wheeling, West Virginia

Wednesday, 9:45 pm

Dear Friend,
​
On Sunday I walked through a $100 house.

No, don't worry, I'm not the one that bought it. I have more than enough to keep me busy already.

A couple of friends had snagged it when it went on the market last month. It is, of course, condemned by the city, but not in terrible shape all things considered.

It's certainly salvageable -- with a LOT of hard work and money.

I offered to walk through it with them and help them start to come up with a plan of action. I'm certainly no expert, but I've learned a lot through my experiences and wanted to pass on what I could.

Plus, I just really enjoy wandering through a beat-up old house and imagining what it would look like restored.

I think I was able to help them a little bit, and the tour also helped me.

You see, I've been working on writing a guide for people thinking about restoring a historic house, and for those just getting started. It will have links to every resource that I've found over the years, all conveniently wrapped up in one document.

Once it's finished I'm planning to give it away to you and to all of my subscribers, for free.

The document has been languishing for the past month. Granted, I have been very busy with a big clump of deadlines, but it's also that the project had hit the midway doldrums.

On many creative projects I hit a point somewhere in the middle where I just hate it and feel completely uninspired.

There are two ways to get past that point.

One way is that the project sits abandoned for a month, a year, ten years...until I pull it out again and discover that it's actually pretty good and then I finish it.

The harder but faster way is to just push through the terrible middle until I reach the momentum of being near the end and then I finish it.

This project had slipped into hibernation mode, but touring the $100 house with my friends got me excited about it again.

Now, I really do still have a lot on my plate for at least the next few weeks, but with what scraps of time I can find I will be working on this guide.

I can't wait to share it with you.

Peace,

Mel Jeffcoat

P. S. Would you buy a $100 house? Let me know!

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From: Wheeling, West Virginia

Wednesday, 8:30 pm

Dear Friend,

​Two weeks ago I told you how deciding to repair the addition's box gutter led to replacing nearly all of the framing in one of the kitchen walls.​

The next difficulty was the gaping hole in the roof and the rotten rafters surrounding it.

This was a bit of a conundrum.

The rafters are cut at an angle at the end to accommodate the change in pitch when the roof becomes the gutter. I needed to pry up the roofing materials to accurately measure that angle for the new rafters, but because the rafters were rotten it was unsafe to stand on them to pry the roof up.

I spent many minutes standing in the kitchen staring up at the rafters and running through different ways to approach this circular problem in my mind.

Good spatial imagination is an important skill in the building arts. If you can build the project in your mind before you ever pick up a tool, it has a much better chance of going smoothly than if you jump in swinging a hammer.

It looks unproductive from the outside but taking the time to think a project through pays off big in the end.

Anyway, after several false starts in my mind I hit upon the plan of adding sisters to the rafters that needed to be replaced.

Sistering is when you attach a second board to one that needs more strength, or to support the new piece when you have to replace just the end. The sister distributes the stress over the whole board rather than letting it concentrate at the connection between the new and old.

I only had to cut a rough approximation of the angle in the ends of the sisters because they only had to reach to the top of the wall to support the roof. Later, I would cut the new rafter ends to match the old.

With the rafters stabilized it was time to get up on the roof.

The tar paper and sheet metal came off with a little help from my reciprocating saw. Most of the decking was still good, except for around the hole. I replaced the boards that needed it, and then finally was able to safely reach all of the gutter from the roof.

This all sounds straightforward writing about it now, but in reality it was several weeks worth of careful probing and a lot of thinking.

My roofing experience was minimal when I started.

Research is good. Talking to people who know how to do something you don't, and thinking through what they tell you is important. But don't let yourself get trapped in the idea that you have to perfectly understand a project in order to start it.

This is called analysis paralysis, and I get trapped in it sometimes myself. But I know from experience that the only way out of it is to just start whatever it is that I'm trying to understand.

Concrete action brings clarity.

Is there some project that you've been thinking about but not started? My challenge to you is to come up with one concrete action with which you can begin, and then do it!

Peace,

Mel Jeffcoat

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From: Wheeling, West Virginia

Wednesday, 2:45 pm

Dear Friend,

The kitchen wall wobbled when I poked it. In fact, it swayed. If the Big Bad Wolf had come round at that moment, he would have had no difficulty blowing down the project house addition.

It all started with the gutters.

Now, despite the proverbial gutter in which our minds sometimes get stuck, most people would consider actual gutters to not be a particularly sexy subject.

I am not most people.

Historic gutters are, if not sexy, at least interesting. They are actually an extension of the roof, rather than a separate piece that is tacked on. They are often called box gutters, because the bottom portion is hidden by a wooden box with trim or other decorative elements.

They work well unless they have been allowed to deteriorate through neglect or improper maintenance.

It can be hard to find someone who knows how to fix them, so many people cut the original gutters off and replace them with a manufactured system. This is simple but destroys some of the historic fabric and changes the shape of the house.

The box gutters on the project house are in rough shape. I am determined to rebuild them. After much research and several discussions with my mentor Jon (who has several decades of experience with restoring historic structures), I felt that I understood the mechanics pretty well.

The next few paragraphs are for the building geeks.

In box gutters, the attic ceiling joists extend past the edge of the building for about a foot. There is a wide notch near the end of each to form the gutter trough. The notches get deeper as they approach the downspout to create a slope to direct the water.

The trough is lined with boards and then, historically, sheet metal. I'm not going to get into all the different ways that the sheets of metal were connected and sealed. What's relevant is that eventually, even the best of the methods will fail, especially if it is not maintained.

Once water can reach the wood, it's only a matter of time before it begins to rot. And because box gutters are part of the framing of the house, leaks go straight into the walls.

Okay non-geeks can start reading again. Welcome back.

Armed with a lot of theoretical knowledge, I decided to repair the box gutter on the rear addition first. Why?

It is a shorter length than the two on the main roof.
It is much closer to the ground - only twenty feet up, rather than thirty.
I had easy access to the roof from an upstairs bedroom window.
Now, only about two-thirds of that roof was safe to stand on. As I described in the previous letter, falling bricks from the chimney had punched a hole in it and the entire area around the hole was untrustworthy.

I could see from the kitchen that several of the rafters were rotted and needed to be replaced.

Let's pause for a moment and look at the kitchen windows. At some point the two original double-hung windows were replaced by large industrial steel windows. I wish I knew which building they were salvaged from.

Since the kitchen is in the back of the house, I have decided to keep them. They're not original, but they have become part of the history of the house and I am happy to honor that. Plus, they're just cool.

What wasn't cool was that the window in the addition portion did not have a header. Let me explain what a header is.

Each of the studs in the wall carries a portion of the weight of the house from the roof down to the foundation. There are rules about how close together the studs must be in order to not overload any one of them. When there's an opening, like a window, there must be a larger piece of wood across the top to transfer the weight to the studs on either side of the window.

That is the header.

This window had no header at all. This means that the rafters directly above it were supported only by the thin piece of wood that framed the steel windows.

So I built a header and while installing it discovered that the entire wall was being held together only by the siding, and it seemed that one good shove would have sent it crashing into the yard.

I will spare you the details. Suffice it to say that in the end I replaced most of the framing in that wall. It no longer wobbles.

Work on old houses is rarely linear. I like to think of the unexpected prerequisites that show up as side quests. That framing can help reduce the frustration of being diverted from the project I started with.

Next week: will I finally be able to start work on the gutter? Stay tuned.

Peace,

Mel Jeffcoat

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From: Wheeling, West Virginia

Wednesday, 10:45 am

Dear Friend,

Rain streamed through the hole in the roof and soaked into the rotted floorboards underneath. Nearby, another hole stretched across the floor with the remains of the kitchen plumbing jutting out of it.

Let's take a tour of the kitchen as I first found it.

Not long after the house was built, a porch was added to the back. Two-thirds of it was an actual porch, but the final third was used to increase the length of the kitchen by about six feet.

Some time later the remainder of the porch was enclosed to make a small room. This room was a disaster. It had once been a laundry room, as evidenced by the washer drain pipe that emptied into the yard, but most recently it had been used to house one or more dogs.

On hot days the stench was nearly a physical presence.

All of this was supported by only three wooden posts resting on a concrete pad a full story below. The property slopes downhill so in the back the basement is fully exposed.

When I took on the project house two of those posts were missing, leaving the porch addition suspended over an eight-foot drop, held only by one corner post and memory.

The unsupported corner had dropped about six inches from level, and worse, had taken that corner of the main house with it.

The sill that was supposed to be holding the weight of the house had been so damaged by water from the kitchen sink that it had all the strength of large sponge.

Instead of fixing the sag, previous owners had simply added new layers of flooring to the kitchen to make it more level.

Then the chimney started to fail, and bricks crashed through the porch roof into the kitchen and piled up on the floor. Fallen leaves drifted in and added to the composting of the floor.

The south end of the house was a mess, and to be completely honest at the beginning I had no idea how to approach such a multi-faceted problem.

So I simply stabilized the addition by tarping the roof and placing a screw jack under the corner to keep it from sinking further, and then focused on the interior demolition of the rest of the house.

This may not have been the most efficient approach, but it did have two advantages.

First, I had time to get to know the building as I gradually removed the layers. I began to get a feel for what sort of stresses it was under, and which parts were still strong and which were failing.

Second, every dumpster load reduced the weight that I would ultimately have to lift when it was time to get that sagging corner back into place. By the time I moved my focus to the addition, the house was some 16 tons lighter than when I had started.

Having set the scene, the next letter will begin to describe the work on the addition.

Peace,

Mel Jeffcoat

P.S. If you are interested in seeing pictures from the project house, I do have an Instagram account.

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From: Wheeling, West Virginia

Wednesday, 8:30 am

Dear Friend,

When I was young, one of my favorite places to play was an old dump outside of our small town in far northern California. It had been closed and buried for decades. My dad liked to dig for old bottles and other treasures there. It was a desolate and beautiful place with a ravine pond filled with the half-submerged hulks of old automobiles and the trilling cries of red-winged blackbirds.

This morning I am sitting on a bench by the Ohio River and listening to the birds, including the first red-winged blackbirds of the year. Their calls brought back the memory of that dump, which is actually relevant to this issue of the newsletter.

There have been many buried surprises at the project house, both good and bad.

The sparse and weedy front lawn turned out to be hiding a red brick sidewalk under a thin layer of dirt.

In the backyard there is an old bottle sticking out of a tree that engulfed it as it grew. "Whoso pulleth out the bottle of the tree and ground, is rightwise king born of all West Virginia," I muttered when I found it.

A basement shelf held a stash of vintage African American Christmas cards and packaging from long-defunct Wheeling department stores, along with 50-year-old cleaning supplies and obsolete textbooks.

Last summer, I decided to clear the left side of the property. It is a narrow city lot and the house was built long before setback requirements, so there is only about three feet on either side.

The left side was a forbidding tangle of brambles, poison ivy, knotweed and trash. I cut back the vegetation and started digging.

For the entire length of the house, there was 6-12" of dirt and old trash piled up. Christmas ornaments, packaging, a Sega Genesis (sadly ruined), photo albums, hundreds of Legos and other toys.

With the help of a friend we dug, sifted and hauled away until we discovered an old concrete sidewalk and steps leading to the backyard.

I was in heaven.

One of my favorite pastimes is visiting thrift stores and junk shops, the junkier the better. I think it's more satisfying to spend an hour picking through an unorganized mess to find one hidden treasure than it is to see it right away on an orderly shelf.

Finding hidden value and beauty is the purpose of this newsletter, and the meaning of its name. Alchemy is the process of breaking something down into its principle elements and then putting them back together in a new configuration to create something more valuable.

What can we create from the cast off remnants of American industrialism?

Next week, I will reveal more treasures from the interior of the project house. As always, I welcome any comments or questions.

Peace,

Mel Jeffcoat

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Wednesday, 9:40am

From: Wheeling, West Virginia

Dear Friend,

I hesitated at the top of the steep, rutted dirt road leading directly down to a massive mound of trash. I was beginning to regret my decision to take my first load of demolition debris to the landfill myself.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

My preliminary research had shown that dumpsters were expensive. I already had the U-Haul to pick up some architectural salvage so I figured, what the heck, I could get rid of some debris from the project house at the same time.

So I loaded up the U-Haul with drywall, paneling, trim, and many boxes of plaster.

I really didn't know what to expect at the dump. Nobody answered when I tried calling for more information. All I knew was what time it opened and closed.

At the entrance there were two truck-sized scales with a booth in between. This much was familiar from the time I worked at a scrapyard. You weigh the truck before and after dumping, and the difference is the weight you get charged for.

The guy at the booth told me that I had too much stuff to use the citizen's drop-off, and that I would have to drive into the landfill itself to unload.

"Just follow the road and look for the yellow posts. That's where you dump!"

That sounded easy enough, and I set off down the dirt road winding through the hills. I got more and more nervous the further it went. Visions of getting lost and buried under garbage filled my mind as I drove.

I eventually glimpsed a dump truck ahead and followed it. That's how I found myself at the top of the hill, not at all sure that the U-Haul would escape unscathed.

After slowly bumping down the hill and missing most of the potholes, I joined a line of waiting vehicles. Dump trucks, municipal garbage trucks, contractors with trailers full of construction debris.

I felt a bit underdressed as the only one there without a dump bed.

While I waited I tried to understand the process. There were the yellow posts the entrance guy had mentioned. Each vehicle backed into place, dumped its load and then left. A waiting bulldozer swooped in and shoved the pile away, leaving space for the next load.

It was a well-organized, if smelly, dance.

All too soon it was my turn. After getting the truck positioned correctly between the posts (which took a couple of tries, I'm embarrassed to admit), I squelched through the stinking mud to the back and began throwing the contents as far from the truck as I could.

I was already tired from loading it an hour earlier, but the pressure of that line of waiting trucks lent me the energy of urgency. Soon I was back in the driver's seat, trying not to breath through my nose and very ready to be gone.

Fortunately, the road out of the landfill was much less steep than the road in. I made it back to the booth and scales, and learned that the load had been just over a ton.

I paid my $30 and vowed to myself that I would never do that again.

I may have saved a little money with this trip. And the experience proved helpful in the future when my boss at the time decided to do the same thing, twice, and I was the lucky guy who got to help him.

However, when you figure the truck rental, the miles traveled and the limited weight capacity of a U-Haul, the price of a dumpster starts to look a lot more appealing. Add in not having to unload the thing at the landfill and the dumpster is a clear winner.

More stories next week. As always, feel free to reply to this letter with any comments or questions you have.

To subscribe visit https://letter.industrialchemy.com/subscribe

Peace,

Mel Jeffcoat
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Wednesday, 10:00am

From: The east bank of the Ohio River

Dear Friend,

"Gut Fish Not Houses" This memorable phrase is on a t-shirt I have from a window restoration company. It's a good phrase to have in mind when working on historic properties, for original material can never be replaced once it is removed.

I didn't set out to gut the project house.

The first thing to go was the dark paneling and plastic trim. I found a wonderful surprise underneath - the original wood trim had been covered up, not removed!

There was also a not-so-wonderful surprise. The original plaster was not just cracked. I can fix cracks, holes, even sags in plaster walls and ceilings. This plaster was crumbling, not just on one wall or room, but on all of them. There was nothing left to save.

The decades of neglect and abandonment had taken their toll.

I realized that my first project was yes, to gut the house by stripping each room down to the studs. While not my first choice, this did have the advantage of making the electrical, plumbing and HVAC work more straightforward, as well as allowing for insulation.

I also dismantled all of the drop ceilings to restore the original dimensions to the rooms. All of the 2x4s from the ceiling frames were saved for future projects. This 50-year-old wood is markedly better than what is available now - denser wood with tighter grain.

Even with salvaging everything that could be reused, there was still an immense amount of debris. As of last September, 17 tons of debris have been taken to the landfill. That's five 20-yard dumpsters and one U-Haul. I might tell you about the U-Haul adventure in a future letter.

Seventeen tons and counting is of course still less than if the house had been torn down. If I hadn't started working on it, most likely it would already be gone.

There are some people who believe that anything new is better than what it can replace. "Tear down the inefficient old buildings and replace them with certified green ones!" they say. With energy prices going ever higher it can be a tempting proposition, but I contend that the current energy efficiency of a building is only part of the equation.

We have to compare the material and energetic costs to manufacture, transport, and install all of the pieces of a new building with what it would take to retrofit the old to make it more efficient. Often, the greenest building is the one that already exists, and there are many ways to improve energy efficiency without sacrificing the aesthetic appeal of historic architecture.

Back to the project house. All of the paneling, drywall, drop ceilings, and most of the plaster and lath have been removed, from the attic all the way down. With the warming weather of spring I am preparing for dumpster #6. It won't be the last one, but the end of demolition is at least in sight.

It hasn't all been demolition. In upcoming newsletters I will talk about some of the repairs and improvements that I have accomplished so far.

To subscribe visit https://letter.industrialchemy.com/subscribe

Peace,

Mel Jeffcoat
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From: Wheeling, West Virginia

Dear Friend,

"Hey, do you want a free house?"

I had gone into Lowes for a few small things and ran into an old friend and fellow building restorer. After a few minutes of catching up he made the offer.

"Those are usually the most expensive, but tell me more."

He was moving out of state but hadn't been able to sell one of his properties in East Wheeling, a neighborhood adjacent to downtown.

I was intrigued enough to give it a look.

It wasn't so much curb appeal as curb repellant. Clearly abandoned for many years, the two-and-a-half story narrow house loomed over the street with faded, peeling green paint on its cedar-shingled sides. Weeds and trees choked the remainder of the lot.

The inside wasn't any better.

Cheap dark wood paneling and plastic trim covered every wall, and every ceiling was dropped. In some rooms literally. There was a large hole in the kitchen floor where the sink once was. The plumbing and the furnace had been stolen and the electrical connection had been severed by a falling tree.

In short, it would be a massive undertaking to reverse the years of neglect and bad renovations.

And yet. It was walking distance to downtown, which was then just beginning to revive after decades of losses. It is well out of the flood zone, no easy feat in a city built next to the Ohio River and filled with creeks. And the view from the walkup attic is incredible. Two windows overlook downtown Wheeling and the river valley and the third has a view of the rapidly re-wilding hillside across the street.

Yes, the attic is what sold me on the property. And so the adventure begins.

This newsletter will tell the stories of this house and others as well as explore the revival of this Rust Belt city and the magic hidden in these ancient hills.

To subscribe visit https://letter.industrialchemy.com/subscribe

Peace,

Mel Jeffcoat
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