In 1970, a significant remodeling had "colonialized" the interior.  Crown moldings, traditional cabinetry, wainscoting, the whole bit.  Was it unwise to try to return the place to it’s prairie-style roots?

I saw the rundown condition of the place as rationale for a total refurbishing.  You don’t have to wonder if window replacement would just be a luxury when those windows won’t close and duct tape is what keeps out the winter wind.  New bathrooms make sense when the plaster is crumbling and fixtures are over the hill.  The basement was a grim pit and, just to add to the ambience, full of mouse droppings. 

What were the good points?  The price was low enough to justify some investment, the house was close to my daughter and her family, I fell in love with the setting on the side of a small ravine with woods and a little creek, and the "flow" of the rooms just felt right to me. 

One influence was information Marty Hackl had recently provided to the seller.  He had written a note informing that the house was a Van Bergen and had included some biographical information about the architect.  That immediately guided me in the direction a refurbishing could take: Toward the prairie style, which I love, and toward the Frank Lloyd Wright influence, which I also love (as long as the roof doesn’t leak).

So, I gave in to a long held feeling that there would be one more little house for me before a condo or the "rest home."  I had a consultation with Marty about some of the ideas I had and he was able to identify for me some of the Van Bergen touches.  His information is what saved the chimney from a tuck-pointing that would have ruined the distinctive Van Bergen look.  When I was at rock bottom on whether or not to try to save the place, Marty gave encouragement and gave me names of people in the Highland Park building department to talk to about the house. 

I found a contractor willing to take it on,  Scott Pearson (Advance Contracting, Inc.) and to even be optimistic about the possibilities.  Were the original cost estimates accurate?  Well, you know the answer to that!  Addendums to the contract numbered four.  Or was it five?  Just too many possibilities.

Had I not found Scott, the project would have been even more challenging.  The house I was living in had sold and there was a deadline for completion of the remodeling.  Actually, the buyers gave a very generous closing date.  They had looked at the house on St. Johns, so they knew how much work was ahead.  During the delay of waiting (forever, it seemed) for the building permit, as much of the demolition work as possible was done, along with a number of things that were classified as repairs, and for which no permits were required.

As work proceeded, I heard friends involved in their own remodeling complain of never being able to get in touch with their contractors.  I told them I couldn't get away from mine.  Phone calls at least once a day, usually more.  My instructions were to call him anytime from 7:30 a.m. to 9:30 p.m., seven days a week, with any question or idea.  Questions were always answered within the day they were asked, and he was open to my ideas.  The carpenters were great, even replicating the profile of the old siding to build the little sidewall on the steps to the front door and following my drawing and measurements of how I wanted the window seat to be built.

Even so, at the end, it all got a little tight.  One day when I came to the house, there were no fewer that ten vehicles parked there.  Inside, workers were all over the place.  At the very end, some uncompleted work meant that we could not pass the final inspection on the day before I was to move in.  We had to have a special visit from inspectors while my furniture was being loaded onto the van.  More than a little stress there.  But, a job that probably would have taken, on average, six to eight months of construction, was done, from planning to completion, in four. 

Throughout the process, many of the usual "old house" issues came up.  There were several times in the process when conflicts between opportunity to restore vs. replace emerged.  When decisions had to made on whether to repair or replace, more often than not, it was replace.  Removal of the vinyl tile in one bathroom revealed the original hexagonal ceramic tiles.  Some were broken, but replacements could have been found.  Instead, I stayed with my plan to use slate on that floor.  The hardwood floors, with all their patches and gaps, looked good enough to me, but the contractor convinced me that it would be about the same cost to have all new floors instead of getting into the labor intensive job of filling gaps, trying to line up the boards in rooms where I was adding wood, and having to "picture frame" the registers for the new furnace ducts. 

The toughest decision was when removal of plaster around the fireplace revealed the outline of the original Van Bergen. 

This is similar to what the original fireplace looked like (from the Ella Van Bergen House in Highland Park - right down the street).

 All was on hold and I suffered three days of angst over whether or not to tear out the "new."  The contractor, referring to the existing surround and hearth, said, "You’ve got at least $2500 worth of slate here, Why take it out?"  The masons convinced me that there was a high risk of everything coming down if they tried to take out the iron supporting the newer surround and firebox.  Marty was able to tell me that one characteristic of that fireplace would have been a poor "draw" because of the size of the stone firebox.  Also, by that time, I had become excited about the idea that brick on three sides would mean a beautiful brick wall in the little den/office.

That fireplace, a window seat I had built in a bay window, the removal of the wall between the dining room and kitchen, the nine-light windows, and the absolute transformation of the basement are my favorite changes.  The flat panel doors throughout, mission style cherry kitchen cabinets, a pottery sink in the little bathroom, and a stunning Arts and Crafts style front door are other favorites. 

All in all, I now have a little jewel of a house that feels like home to me.  The visits of friends and frequent presence of family have sanctified the space.  My two cats love the views from the windows, my granddaughter loves the creek and her lower level playroom. Definitely worth the stress and struggle.  Not sure about the money, only time will answer that one.  I am glad that my buyer’s remorse did not result in turning my back on the house. 

During the process, the encouraging words of a friend who had seen the house before anything had been done to it kept coming back to me.  She told me "Miriam, it will be just perfect for you."  She was right.