A bright paint scheme highlights the eclectic mix of salvaged and antique furnishings in the dining room.

Blending old and new is often the most difficult part of adding onto a vintage house—but for architectural historian Joan Lawrence, adding a sense of history to a new kitchen and dining room for her 1882 Carpenter Gothic house was easy, thanks to her passion for architectural salvage.

“The house was built as a modest summer cottage, and many of its original elements and furnishings would have been castoffs from a primary residence,” Joan points out. “So building an addition from secondhand items fit with the house’s beginnings.” For five years, she had collected locally salvaged materials—most dating from the 1880s through the 1920s—and carefully stored them in her basement until she had enough architectural components for the addition.

It was her love of salvage, in fact, that connected her with architect Dean Brenneman, who designed the addition—the two met while volunteering at Old House Parts, a now-defunct nonprofit salvage shop near Joan’s Maryland house. They began talking and realized they were kindred spirits when it came to reusing old materials. “She had collected radiators, doors, windows, a sink, a stove, light fixtures, hardware—she even had pieces left over from an old row house on Capitol Hill that she had restored years ago,” says Dean. At the time they met, Dean was deconstructing his grandparents’ carriage house in Rockville, Maryland, which had floorboards and timbers that would lend themselves nicely to Joan’s kitchen project. “My job was to find poetry within the pieces,” he says.

By the Book

Dean designed the new addition within the footprint of an existing two-story 1950s addition, which looked woefully out of place on the old house. “Knowing that houses evolve over time, I have a more eclectic view of restoration,” he notes. “Rather than restore to a particular period, I mix and match elements in a project such as this one. It’s like working on a jigsaw puzzle—how will the new part fit with the old? It’s a challenge to create a cohesive whole—to make logic of several different pieces.”

To highlight its different timeline, the addition is stepped down slightly from the original house and painted in a contrasting color scheme. (Photo: Melissa Newman)

To join the new addition to the old house, he followed the Secretary of the Interior’s Standards for additions, which state that while the addition will differentiate from the old, it should be compatible in massing, size, scale, and architectural features to protect the house’s historic integrity. In this case, that meant an addition that is subordinate to the original house, mimicking its roof pitch and gable ends, but on a smaller scale. Joan chose a brick-red color for its exterior to distinguish it from the original structure’s German board siding, which is painted green.

The addition is filled with a treasure trove of well-crafted materials. The connection between the two wings of the house features an early 1900s tin ceiling Joan discovered while volunteering at Old House Parts. The onion-domed window in the gable came from a Russian Orthodox church, and the space is lit by Art Deco pendant fixtures from Australia.

Unfitted Kitchen

To bring an old-house feel to the kitchen’s design, Joan took inspiration from British kitchen guru Johnny Grey and his book The Art of Kitchen Design. In the book, Grey advocates for kitchens with an unfitted design—a concept based on historical models before cabinets were built into walls, when kitchens were composed of freestanding pieces of furniture like hutches, cupboards, iceboxes, and worktables. “You have much more flexibility when designing an unfitted kitchen,” Dean points out.

In the kitchen, a reproduction retro refrigerator mingles with a refurbished 1920s stove and a freestanding pantry fashioned from reclaimed boards.

For her kitchen, Joan found the freestanding pantry that sits next to her Northstar reproduction fridge—made of milk-painted boards reclaimed from an early 18th-century house—at a secondhand store. She found the marble-topped baker’s cabinet cases—now used as a food-prep area—at an antiques shop; the 1920s Detroit Jewel gas stove she bought from a friend and had refurbished. The only fitted cabinets are found under the bay window—craftsman Ed Mroczka of The Uncommon Carpenter replicated them based on ones Joan had seen in a book on bungalow kitchens.

Green Savings

Not only did using salvaged materials give Joan’s kitchen the old-house aesthetic she sought, but it also kept the project green. The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) estimates that residential demolition accounts for 5 million tons of debris per year nationally; EPA figures suggest that only 52 percent of this is recycled. That’s the equivalent to tearing down two Empire State Buildings each month and throwing the debris away. “When you use salvaged materials, you’re not fabricating anything new, so there is no ecological expense,” says Dean.

Not to mention, it’s friendlier on the budget. Dean estimates that this project netted a 60-percent reduction in materials costs by relying so heavily on salvage. Take the windows—Joan scored 11 casement windows reclaimed from a 1920s house at The Brass Knob in Washington, D.C. “If we had bought new windows, they could have cost $20,000, but by using recycled, we only spent about $2,000,” says Dean. “Those windows are in great shape—they even came with their original frames.”

Thanks to its thoughtful design and quality materials, the handsome, efficient kitchen is an appropriate companion for the old Carpenter Gothic—and good for the planet at the same time. “It’s tragic how much beautiful building material is thrown into landfills each year,” Dean says. “If we can use existing material in our projects, we can reduce the waste stream.”

Nancy E. Berry is the editor of New Old House magazine. She lives in an 1870s Queen Anne on Cape Cod.

Online bonus: Find an architectural salvage store near you with our online directory.

The addition to this Massachusetts farmhouse is a basic ell off the back of the house, which echoes the home’s original form through roof pitch and window sizes. (Photo: Damianos Photography)

We’ve all seen one: the old house that suddenly sprouts an obtuse room extension or overpowering wing addition, subverting the stylistic form and swallowing its original structure —all in the pursuit of increased space. Additions to old houses don’t have to be incongruous appendages out of sync with the scale and details that give the building its character. Studying your house’s historic plan, shapes, and materials—the architectural “genetics” that already exist—then applying some common-sense design principles and time-tested ideas can help it grow in a way that fits both the building and your lifestyle needs. Here are five basic ideas to remember when considering additions to old houses and how they were used to successfully complete five widely varying projects.

1. Keep the addition in the background.

“When we wanted to add on to our house,” says Andrea Wald of Framingham, Massachusetts, “we looked at the only practical option: the back of the building.” Andrea and her husband, Mark, didn’t want the addition to disrupt  the symmetry of the New England farmhouse or be visible from the road. On top of this the original rear façade was a nearly perfect blank slate to build their addition.

Homeowner Andrea Wald and architect Jonathan Hale created a modern, functional kitchen while maintaining a sense of the home’s past. Andrea chose simple cabinetry, beadboard wainscotting, and 5”-wide maple floor boards to maintain an old-house feel. (Photo: Damianos Photography)

“Placement is a key consideration when planning an addition,” says architect Jonathan Hale, who designed the kitchen, mudroom, laundry, and bath addition for the Walds. Adding onto the back preserves the public façade of the house, thereby maintaining the historic character of the home and the context of the neighborhood. Moreover, building onto the rear is the most common growth pattern for a house in New England, as well as across the country. From late 16th-century Capes to vernacular farmhouses of the 19th century, ell extensions—typically for a “modern” stove-equipped kitchen—were regularly added off the back, and on New England farms that room might also grow a winter passage to the barn. The local historic precedent for such an addition helps it look correct in a new project. “To work, the addition needs a sense of belonging,” says Hale. “Each individual house has a personality, so I ask, ‘What is the house telling me? What are the rhythms of the house?’”

Architect Chris Jenkins also believes in creating a vernacular narrative for a new addition. He looks at the history of similar houses in an area to discern how the house he is adding onto might have grown in the past. In the case of the garage addition beside an 1828 Virginia farmhouse, Jenkins gave the exterior of the addition the look of 19th-century summer kitchens attached to houses throughout the region. Jenkins is no less mindful of contemporary practices and he also looks at any existing property constraints. He recommends that you ask, “Is this a historic district? What are the set-back ordinances? Do I need to get a variance?”

When Pat and Frank Durbin bought a carriage house in Port Townsend, Washington, they wanted to add a master bath. Pat bought a $30 3-D Architect computer software program and started noodling around with design ideas. She ended up with a seamless bath and porch addition to the house. (Photo: John Granen)

2. Study proportions.

Whether it is the length and width of a porch, or the dimensions and placement of windows, when code allows do your best to maintain and emulate the original proportions of an old house in an addition. While the specific materials will be new and possibly different in their details, respecting original proportions will help avoid upsetting the overall historic character of the building—for example, the horizontal emphasis of Prairie-influenced houses—as well as bridge past and present.

“Southern structures were typically one room deep to allow cross breezes that beat the South’s summer climate,” says Jenkins. “They were also built this way as a function of the timber construction; the length of timber determines room size.” An addition that ignores dimensional parameters of the house’s original structural system, or grafts an incompatible structural system, will look out of place and out of time.

When homeowner Pat Durbin wanted to build onto her Victorian-era carriage house-cum-home in Port Townsend, Washington, the original 10´-wide porch dictated the space that could be added to the  building. They wrapped the porch around the right side of the house, using that 10´- wide dimension as a guide, without disrupting the house’s original scale. A master bathroom sits above the new porch extension. The Durbins also carried the original window measurements into the new structure.

3. Size matters; keep scale subordinate.

To allow the historic portion of an 1828 Virginia farmhouse to remain visually distinct, the 700-square-foot garage addition was conceived as a detached summer kitchen. The addition was placed perpendicular to the house with a screened-porch connector.

Many unappealing additions suffer from gigantism. When occupants want more space, they often concentrate on gaining more square footage on the interior, but overlook the impact on the exterior. Compared to public buildings, houses are small and consequently tricky to expand easily; small houses are even harder. What’s left of an 1,800-square-foot Foursquare if you try to append a 2,000- square-foot addition?

Most successful additions to old houses keep the size and scale smaller so that they “read” as secondary. “Allow the original structure to take center stage and let the addition be subordinate,” says designer David Heide. For a 1904 Queen Anne in Minneapolis, Minnesota, Heide chose to keep the addition to a single storey at the back.

Keep the dimensions small and spend your money on the details that will create a harmonious transition from the old to new space. This rule will help maintain the  overall character of the older structure. Building below the line of the original roof and setting back walls from primary façades are also key in subordinating an addition.

Designer David Heide created an entryway with a semicircular family room—a form not found on this particular building but on other houses in the neighborhood—with an adjacent study. (Photo: David Heide)

4. Respect original materials and details.

A new addition to an old house has the potential to damage its historic materials and features. Before you begin the project, get to know your house. “Study the original structure thoroughly, and then tread lightly,” says Jenkins. Document existing materials and take measurements of the floor plan, vertical heights, and the components of the house—its windows, doors, and cladding. With copious notes in hand, your designer or architect can replicate details from the original house into the new addition.

When designing additions to historic buildings, architects find creative ways to preserve as much of the original structure as possible. In the Wald House in  Massachusetts, Hale created a hyphen (connector) between the addition and the original structure. This 6´-tall connector has the same ceiling height of the original house. The larger portion of the addition opens into the kitchen with a cathedral ceiling. In creating this compact access to the addition, Hale kept all the second-floor windows, saving precious natural light. For the Virginia farmhouse addition, Jenkins designed a small breezeway connector leading from the house to the garage. Again this smaller hyphen preserved much of the original wall.

When it comes to the new work, materials and finishes that follow the original details, even when not identical in composition, will echo its character and help the addition look of a piece. Many window companies today are introducing historic proportions in window shapes and muntin patterns. (You can even order windows with traditional pulley- and-chain or rope balances.) Energy-codes permitting, homeowners can opt for single-glazed windows with storms opposed to more modern-looking double-glazed units. Sometimes contemporary materials can be modified to historic dimensions, such as ripping clapboards on site to match originals.

David Heide wanted to create a clear map of what was original and what was not. He delineated one period from another by using different materials from the original. (Photo: Alex Steinberg)

Another good way to maintain continuity between the old and new is to incorporate salvage materials. Jenkins used recycled brick for the new chimney on the Farmville, Virginia, property. He also found a company to match the existing mortar. In his garage addition, Jenkins specified true divided-light 9/9 windows with restoration glass, as well as beaded lap siding and a standing seam roof.

Heide replicated the columns on the front of the Colonial Revival onto the new back porch in a smaller size. Hale added windows in authentic Victorian-era proportions over the sink in the Wald kitchen—a reference to that period. When deciding on interior finishes for an addition, look at the original styling of the house for clues about how that new room should reflect the older structure.

From a historic preservation standpoint, it’s worth noting that there’s a limit to authentic details; in fact, well-done projects make sure to leave enough clues to let the next generation know where the original structure ends and the new one begins. Countless garden-variety old houses have gone through alterations in the past—some seamless, some more obvious. Many architects agree that while it is important to create a felicitous pairing between the old and new, in harmony with the existing building in scale, proportion, materials, and color, the new structure should be identifiable in some way. Often this is achieved through the choice of building materials.

The rear addition was the last of three phases of work on the White residence in suburban New Jersey. A terrace, visible on the right, connects the new entrance with the relocated garage. (Photo: James Prince)

5. Treat roofs with care.

Few features are as character-defining as the roof, and when a roof is compromised by an addition, the addition seldom looks right. Roof form, pitch, and eave/cornice lines are the critical parameters to watch. When the owners of a 1916 Arts & Crafts-influenced house in suburban Madison, New Jersey, began to think about additions, one of the design issues they had to wrestle with was the double-pitch roof.

“The original roof is distinctive,” notes architect Mark Alan Hewitt, “and having it look right when finished was critical.” Before addressing other concerns, Hewitt and his staff concentrated on carefully designing the geometry of the extended roof. Once the roof was worked out successfully, much of the rest of the project, particularly the massing of the rear addition, fell into place underneath it.

The house, purchased in the late 1990s, was not in good condition, plus there was no access from the back of the building. Hewitt addressed the rear access problem first by relocating the garage to the opposite side of the lot, thereby providing access to the rear of the house through the new autoport and terrace. The owners were also determined to retain the existing staircase inside the building while gaining more space for the kitchen and master bedroom.

“Circulation is always an issue,” according to Hewitt, “and one of our challenges was how to keep the staircase without overcomplicating the living room-dining room-kitchen arrangement.”  Part of the solution involved adding a windowed gallery in a former solid wall that allowed them to open up the stairway. Adds Hewitt, “My mantra has always been that, with care, it’s possible to design compatible additions without disrespecting the original house.”

There’s better advice available than my father dished out. Today there are loads of energy-saving, cost-effective thermal insulating options on the market, and choosing what is appropriate for your house depends on several factors. Here are some tips to guide you through your old-house insulation project.

1. How do you decide whether you need insulation?
First determine if you have insulation. It’s easy to confirm whether or not you have attic insulation—usually loose fill between ceiling joists or exposed batts of colored fiberglass. You can also check your exterior walls for a series of patched holes. This is a tell-tale sign of blown-in insulation.

Old houses can be drafty places, and warm air can leak from a multitude of areas. Check and see where you may be losing heat in your house. Chimneys and fireplaces without working dampers are typical. Other areas to consider are air leaks though cracks around windows, ducts, electrical outlets, and recessed lighting. Note that the primary site of heat loss is through the top of the house. Heat rises and can escape though roofs that are not adequately insulated.

2. What do you do with existing insulation?
A friend reopened sealed pocket doors on the top floor of his 1900 triple-decker in Boston recently and from inside the walls—along with the pocket doors—came shredded paper. In the late 1800s primitive insulation could be comprised of a number of mundane materials, such as newspaper, wood shavings, corncobs, and even seaweed. Mineral wools—substances like rock slag “spun” into fibers—were also installed in houses as early as 1875 and are still in use today. These early materials can be left in place.

The insulation materials introduced in the mid-20th century containing asbestos and urea-formaldehyde, create the most concern in old houses today. Asbestos was a common component of heating system insulation by 1910, and by the 1930s it was also being added to some building insulation products. If you suspect your home has insulation containing asbestos, a known carcinogen, have the material tested. Complete removal of this insulation would be too invasive to most old houses so it should be left alone—unless your project is a total rehab and you’ll be removing walls and ceilings. If the asbestos is flaking, you can encapsulate the material—remember asbestos fibers are a health concern only when airborne.

Urea-formaldehyde, a combination of resin, hardener, and compressed air developed as an insulation material in the 1970s, was foamed into closed wall spaces. It was largely discontinued in the 1980s due to concerns of off-gassing as the product cures, but today we have a better understanding of the product and that the amount of vapors produced is finite. After the initial curing the material will not off-gas, unless it comes in contact with water or moisture, then it can break down and begin off-gassing once again. You can have your home tested for these vapors by an environmental company in your area.

3. What form of insulation do you use?
Building insulation can be classified into four general categories: loose fill (cellulose, mineral, or glass fibers); batts (fiberglass, cotton, or various wools); rigid boards (composed of plastic foams or glass fibers); expanding sprays (proprietary systems). Batt and rigid insulation typically come into play during a major restoration that requires replacing walls or when you are installing insulation in unfinished spaces such as attics.

The most common insulation retrofit for old houses is loose fill because it can reach places where it’s difficult to install other insulation. It also has the least effect on existing finishes. The National Park Service (NPS) recommends using loose-fill cellulose (recycled newspaper) insulation that has been treated only with borates as a fire retardant, rather than insulation treated with ammonium or aluminum sulfate. “Insulation treated with sulfates reacts with moisture forming sulfuric acid, which can cause damage to most metals (including copper plumbing and wiring), stone, brick, and wood. Borates are physically and chemically compatible with many existing old-house materials,” says NPS Preservation Brief # 03.

4. How much insulation do you need for your house?
An insulation’s R-value—the material’s thermal resistance or resistance to heat flow—depends on what region of the country you live in and what part of the house you are insulating. The higher the R-value the better the material insulates. R-values range from zero to 40 and more—the smaller value appropriate for warm weather places, such as Florida, the high value appropriate in chilly climates, such as Chicago. The Department of Energy has a Web site that shows what the R-value should be for your region; visit www.ornl.gov/sci/roofs+walls/insulation /ins_16.html.

5. Where do you install insulation?
This answer will vary from old house to old house. As mentioned, most heat loss is typically through the roof. Since warm air has a tendency to rise and cool air to fall, insulating the attic is the place to start. If the attic is unfinished the insulation should be installed on the floor. If the attic is used as a living space, say a home office or play room, the insulation should be placed between the rafters.

One of the biggest mistakes here is installing insulation without a proper ventilation path between the insulation and the building exterior. Don’t block the soffit, ridge, or gable vents in the roof. This can create moisture problems. Thermal insulation should never be placed around old wiring. Have an electrician check to see if the electrical insulation on your wiring is up to code. The National Electrical Code recommends against blown-in or batt insulation around old knob-and-tube wiring, which could prevent heat dissipation from the electrical conductors and start a fire.

6. How do you limit moisture problems?
When retrofitting an old house with insulation, one of the most important points is to avoid creating moisture problems. Mold growth, peeling paint, and even rotting wood are all signs of high moisture levels. In northern climates, moisture from living spaces (cooking, bathing, etc.) can cause problems when it migrates into walls and condenses in insulation, especially during cold weather. As the moisture collects, it can cause loose fills to settle or create other problems. To avoid this, the insulation’s vapor barrier should be facing in toward the living spaces. In southern climates, moisture problems occur in the summer months when moist air from the outside migrates into the building. In these cases there is controversy over where to place the vapor barrier. Consult your insulation manufacturer for the proper placement.

7. Are there alternative green insulation products?
There are a number of environmentally friendly insulation products on the market.

Blown-in cellulose insulation made from 100 percent recycled newspaper and treated with borates for fire-resistance and protection against insects is labeled by the Environmental Protection Agency for effectiveness against termites, cockroaches, ants, earwigs, and many other insects. This product contains no free formaldehyde, no ammonium sulfate, no fiberglass, and no asbestos.

Another product winning green accolades in the market place is polyisocyanurate, a rigid material that per thickness has a higher R value than batt or blown-in fiberglass, cellulose, and cotton insulation. Polyiso also provides an effective moisture barrier when used with laminated aluminum foil facers in masonry cavity wall applications. This type of insulation can be installed between furring strips when the walls in your house need to be replaced altogether. Another green insulation product is cotton insulation made from recycled denim; this product is itch-free and easy to install. It is also treated with borates to keep insects away.

An early insulating material still on the market today is Homasote fiber board, which consists of 100 percent recycled newspaper mixed with a small amount of other ingredients, including paraffin wax as a water repellent and copper metaborate for resistance to fungi, termites, and carpenter ants. It’s a great soundproofer, and although it has an R-value of only 1.2, South Pole explorers in the 1930s and ’40s lined their buildings with it.

Clingstone is in fine form today, but when Henry Wood purchased the property in 1961, all of its windows were broken, and the roof had gaping holes that let in rain and snow.

“I come to party,” explains a volunteer at Clingstone’s annual work weekend. The sentiment perfectly captures the vibe of those who have gathered here to help maintain this 106-year-old, 23-room summer manse sitting on a rocky outcrop in Narragansett Bay.

Although the annual early-summer event is dubbed a “work weekend,” stories fly of bikini-clad painting crews in years past, and of owner Henry Wood’s fondness for mooning passing tour boats. After four decades of work weekends, a sense of playfulness permeates the bohemian-style restoration scene.

“My childhood summers were spent sailing in Narragansett Bay, and as my father and I would sail by Clingstone, he’d say, ‘There’s your crazy cousin’s house,’” recalls Henry, a retired architect who oversaw the construction of Boston’s City Hall and Hynes Convention Center. Years later, on a weekend drive to see Vermont’s fall colors with his first wife, Joan (herself a residential architect), Henry discovered that Clingstone was on the market. The couple purchased the house in 1961 for $3,600, a total that amounted to the back taxes owed on the property.

The original owner, J. S. Lovering Wharton—a distant relative of Henry’s—had abandoned it after the Great Hurricane of 1938. It had since become a haven for vandals, a far cry from the well-heeled summer guests it once entertained. When the Woods bought the house, it had no running water or electricity, and was missing all 65 plate glass windows, as well as much of the exterior decking and part of its slate roof. “You could stand in the basement and look up through the house to the sky,” recalls Henry. Graffiti filled the home’s walls, and most architectural elements that could be easily hauled to a boat had been pilfered.

Getting to Work

Henry was determined to resurrect the old wreck. “During the 1960s there were a lot of urban renewal projects going on around Boston,” he says, “and I would salvage architectural items from buildings being torn down in the South End—glass from old store-fronts, doorknobs from brownstones, factory lights from a city meat-packing plant, and lumber flooring from a supermarket.”

His first project at Clingstone involved patching the roof. After a few years of tackling projects with the help of just a few close friends, Henry came up with the idea of extending an invitation to a wider circle of family, friends, and the just plain curious to help preserve the monstrous mansion. “We held our first official work weekend around 1970,” Henry says. Guests partook in a plethora of home fix-it projects within the 48-hour span, ranging anywhere from painting window sash to replacing rotting decking to fixing plumbing.

A true New England summer cottage, the house is clad in cedar shingles inside and out. The winding staircase's banister was lost to vandals long ago.

The tradition continues today, with each work weekend’s projects covering the needs of the moment. The draw to such a laborious event is the house itself. Built on a small granite outcropping just off Jamestown, the 10,000-square-foot house, which nearly covers the surface of the craggy rock, offers intoxicating 360-degree ocean views; some workers camp out there overnight. “The house’s sight lines seem to reveal perfect seascape paintings, each framed through 4′ x 10′ plate glass windows,” says Josh Wood, Henry’s son.

Historical Mystery

Jamestown Historical Society records offer conflicting stories on how the mansion came into being. One tale describes the house as being originally planned for marine artist William Trost Richards; he abandoned the project and sold the plans to J.S. Lovering Wharton, who modified the design, making the house smaller and adding a breakwater. The other story claims Wharton designed the original plans, and Richards offered the financial backing to build the structure.

Owner and master of ceremonies Henry Wood approaches the old manse in a skiff; the only way to reach the house is by boat.

Josh reveals the story he and his family have come to know: Wharton, a close friend and neighbor of Richards’, collaborated with him on the design and put his house project in Richards’ name to get around local gossip—Wharton was from the staunch Philadelphia Quaker society, and building a summer house on a rock was considered more than a little unusual. “Newport architect J. D. Johnston, a friend of Wharton’s, helped with window placement and such,” adds Henry.

“Clingstone is a remarkable example of the Shingle Style,” Henry says. Josh likens the three-and-a-half-story house, which was overbuilt to withstand New England’s harsh coastal winds, to a ship. Its structural system consists of heavy oak timber frame, and it is clad in cedar shingles inside and out. Massive stone fireplaces dominate the main hall, living room, and ping-pong room (originally a billiard room). Air circulates through a series of ventilating hatches built above and below the inoperable plate glass windows. The curved central staircase, which has no rails, leads up to 11 bedrooms. Decks—some with railings, some without—surround the house.

Today, Clingstone gets its water and electricity through sustainable methods—12 solar panels and a windmill generate power, a 3,000-gallon cistern collects rainwater, and five composting toilets service the water closets. “The house’s stone foundation came right from the island, and the dining table was made from planks from the original cistern,” says Henry. “You can’t get more green than that.” The interior is more reminiscent of a bachelor’s shack than a grand summer cottage; Henry has furnished the house with a hodgepodge of pieces collected over the years. The place is littered with nautical charts and historical photos; the library holds legions of seafaring, cooking, and architectural books.

Weekend Warriors

Whimsical notes are etched onto doorways and walls around the house as reminders to work crews.

Henry, now in his 80s, likens the work weekend to an old-fashioned barn raising. It’s definitely family-centric, with his three grown sons, Paul, Josh, and Daniel, managing various projects. At last year’s event, among sailboats gliding under the Newport Bridge and cormorants soaring through the air, Dan, an artist and printer, shuttled volunteers over from Jamestown’s Dumplings Pier on a motored 10-man skiff, skirting rocks and buoys on the five-minute trip. Volunteers arrived to find Henry’s eight-page chore sign-up sheet among the papers scattered on the dining table, with tasks for the weekend broken into columns detailing the level of priority, description, location, and number of crew needed for each task. Projects included re-shingling window bays, installing a rope handrail, cleaning windows, and planting containers.

The scene was hectic as volunteers—many close friends of the Woods—chose their chores and got to work. Blaine Paxton of New Hampshire, who has been coming for five or six years, signed up to repair and paint exterior windows. Kathy Kahn, Josh’s mother-in-law, volunteered for the first time. Polly Nelson, a mystery writer from New Jersey, saw the weekend posted on the Internet and thought, “What a great old house—who wouldn’t want to see this?” She offered up her specialty—refinishing furniture—and stayed overnight in the house, hoping to get ideas for her next story. Alec Ferguson, a longtime friend with carpentry skills, replaced a carrying beam in the main hall that had been eaten away by insects.

Although all of the volunteers stayed busy, the mood remained relaxed and jovial. Josh reflects on the weekend: “It’s like our own little socialist world—I love the community aspect to the weekend. My family has great friends—I would not trade this experience for anything.” Henry agrees. With more than 24,000 volunteer man-hours recorded, he is thankful for the friends who have helped him preserve the old summer manse in the Bay.

The original Greek Revival structure in Salt Point, New York, dates from the 1840s. Its columns were rebuilt using traditional methods.

In the rolling countryside of Salt Point, New York, sat an 1840s Greek Revival with a history as rich and varied as its democratic style. Known as the White Pillars Farm, the stately house had “good bones” but needed work after sitting in quiet decay for years—and a few very unfortunate additions didn’t help the condition of the house. Although the building needed a major overhaul, a professional couple looking for a weekend getaway fell in love with the historic 120-acre farm complete with pond, open fields, and evergreen forest. Just over an hour from Manhattan, the commute was convenient for weekend visits, so they purchased the house and set about looking for an architect who could help with the renovations.

The couple had seen the work architect John Murray had done to his own Greek Revival farmhouse in Chatham, New York, and they knew his firm, John B. Murray Architect, could help them with their project. “The house is a wonderful example of the Greek Revival style,” says Murray. “It also has quite a colorful history.” In the 1940s James Forrestal, Secretary of the Navy and then Defense under Presidents Roosevelt and Truman during World War II, purchased the property. The house was full of wonderful memorabilia from that era, including old photographs of hunting parties and social gatherings. In fact, Roosevelt himself used to make the short drive from Hyde Park in his convertible to visit the home.

At the Beginning

The owners had no preconceived notion of what they wanted in the house; they just knew they needed ample space for family and friends to come and visit, and wanted guidance with their decisions. “The old house really needed everything,” says Murray. There was no insulation in the walls, all the mechanical systems were antiquated—even the temple pillars had rotted through and needed to be replaced. “A large addition went onto the back of the house in the 1950s,” says Murray, “but unfortunately it needed to come off—there was nothing salvageable.”

In the mudroom, Murray incorporated beadboard, shelving, and dog-eared molding around the door to keep the look simple.

Murray ended up razing the mid-twentieth-century addition and extending the massing of the main house by a third. This new addition is recognized through a slight offset of the roofline. In conjunction with the extended massing, Murray added three flat roof additions to the north side of the house. “We looked at examples of the Greek Revival style throughout the area to get ideas on how to approach the design of the new additions. Flat roofs were common on Greek Revival structures, often appearing in the front of the building,” notes Murray.

These additions incorporate a new kitchen and a breakfast room, family room, and guest suite just off the north side of the house. “We really wanted to create light-filled spaces in the new additions,” says Murray. The kitchen is situated on the east side of the house to catch the early morning light, while the family room, located on the west side of the house, takes advantage of the afternoon light. “We added a bank of windows, French doors, and transom windows to engage the spaces with the landscape,” notes Murray.

Although Murray wanted to preserve as much of the original fabric of the house as possible by keeping original windows, doors, and a pediment fanlight, it essentially had to be gutted. “We approached the process of the renovation by really peeling back the layers to the house,” he says. The old portion was taken down to the studs to install insulation and new plaster. “We restored as many historic windows as we could. We also incorporated bronze screens, screen doors, and removable storm sashes—there is no insulated glass, which adds to the authenticity of the house.” The only exception to the single-paned glass is in the French doors and transoms off the kitchen, family room, flower room, and mudroom, which are made with insulated glass.

A simple colonial mantel dresses the fireplace in the dining room.

Murray also redesigned the front hall stairs, creating a freestanding staircase. This open stair, which seemingly floats above the stair hall, makes the hall leading into the living room more spacious and creates a better proportion. A small antique chest and chair occupy the space under the stair, creating the perfect spot for keys and mail. The simple tapered balusters and curved newel create an understated elegance in the space. A second winding stair at the back of the house has a very simple articulation with a rounded, tapered newel post. A random-width scalloped wallboard becomes the backdrop.

The general contractor, George Carrothers of George Carrothers, Ltd., also rebuilt the four fluted columns in mahogany. “He assembled them as they would have been originally—in staved boards,” says Murray. The result of the restoration, renovation, and sensitive additions to the old Greek Revival is success—not only in its design and execution, but also as a warm and welcoming getaway for the homeowners to enjoy for years to come.

The farmhouse kitchen sink looks into the light-filled family room.

On the ancient post road to Montreal sits one of Montpelier’s oldest houses, an 1800s Cape with hints of Greek Revival flourishes. The original structure is in pristine condition. Two large rooms off to each side of a center stair hall provide ample light through antique window openings. In the more recent past, the home was expanded by 1,000 square feet to accommodate modern amenities—a den and garage in 1950 and an “Olde German style” family room in the 1970s. These new spaces, tacked onto the back and side of the house, took away the dining room’s sole source of natural light.

Paulette Fiorentino-Robinson and Steve Robinson had thought of moving from the old Cape, they disliked the additions so much. They approached architect Sandra Vitzthum, a third-generation Vermont native with a great sensibility for creating thoughtful new spaces on older structures, to redesign the rooms. “These really were ill-conceived spaces,” says Vitzthum of the 20th-century additions. “They seriously compromised the original house.”

The couple wanted the interiors to connect more cohesively to each other as well as to the gardens and pool. “The house needed a mudroom, more kitchen storage, and a dining area that didn’t feel like a dark cave,” says Vitzthum. She set about planning the new design within the existing footprint of the mid-century additions. Paulette wanted an open airy floor plan filled with natural light. She also wanted to keep a traditional look to the rooms to honor the age of the original structure.

The kitchen dish cupboard has glass cabinets as well as glass at the back of the shelf to allow for more light through the pantry skylights.

“It was like putting a 3-D jigsaw puzzle together,” says Vitzthum in regard to creating new spaces that would work for twenty-first-century living. Vitzthum began her layout by relocating the new kitchen to where the dark dining room used to be. The original space had 7’6″ ceilings and no windows, making the room dark and gloomy and not a place Paulette wanted to entertain. It took a bit of convincing on Vitzthum’s part to get Paulette to agree to the new kitchen in this placement because of the room’s dark stigma.

A stairwell in the dish and storage pantry leads to a laundry room.

Vitzthum explained that this was a central location, and she wanted to bring the kitchen back to the heart of the home. To open the spaces up to one another, and to the light, Vitzthum took down walls between the old dining space, den, and family room. “You can stand at any point in the new plan and look through to the other spaces and even outdoors,” says Vitzthum. The low ceilings were removed to expose beams and offer a lofty atmosphere. “We took the rooms down to the studs and rebuilt all the floors so they would be level,” says Vitzthum. The airy structure is articulated with posts and beams that provide visual transitions between the different rooms.

Paulette and Steve love to entertain, so the kitchen had to be not only functional, but also comfortable and aesthetically pleasing. Vitzthum created ample workspace by incorporating a center island as well as two additional serving peninsulas between the dining room and family room. The counters also act as dividers between the spaces. An old powder room was converted into a dish pantry with open shelving for additional storage space. And to further the transparent feel in the kitchen, the kitchen shelving has two-sided glass cabinets that look through to the new pantry where the cellar stair wall used to be.

Appliances are tucked into the north wall of the kitchen. Vitzthum kept original beams exposed to pay homage to the home’s age.

The north wall of the kitchen houses a Sub-Zero fridge behind a custom panel door and two wall ovens. The stove is located in the island; under-counter island drawers hold pots and pans. The cabinets are traditionally inspired, with Vitzthum’s signature substantial bracket detailing. Vitzthum often designs cupboards with open shelving reminiscent of freestanding furniture into her designs. “These tricks can really give a kitchen an older feel,” she says. The demolition revealed the Cape’s original post and beam home frame, which Vitzthum kept exposed for an added sense of age.

Not only were walls taken down and windows added, but skylights also were introduced to the pantry to offer more natural light. To further brighten the space, the color palette was kept light and ethereal. The floors, a unifying element throughout the new space, are blond maple; countertops are pale green granite; and upper cabinets are painted white, while the lower cabinets are white with a touch of greenish blue. The ceiling is also painted a creamy white with a touch of pink. “Pink helps create peace and harmony within the space,” notes Vitzthum. The walls throughout the kitchen, pantry, and family room are also painted white, completing the ethereal look.

The dining room is now where an old 1950s addition used to be. The windows overlook the terrace and gardens.

A dining room takes the place of the 1950s den, and opens up onto the terrace and gardens. Two windows were added on the north side of the room for additional light. The family room now has three south-facing windows overlooking the pool. Vitzthum added beadboard to the cathedral ceiling for texture in the family room. She also had the chimney rebuilt and resurfaced. Again, additional windows next to the fireplace were added to wash the space in light. Vitzthum incorporated bookshelves and a window seat into the space, as well as a state-of-the-art audio and sound system concealed in the walls. For more energy-efficient rooms, she also specified radiant floors and super-insulated the walls to R-40 and the roof to R-60.

“You can achieve just as much light, utility, and beauty in a traditional design as you can in a modern design,” Vitzthum points out. And the addition to this old Cape proves just how well it can be done.

Restoration Resources in Boston's South End carries an array of salvage from the city's Brownstones and Tudors.

Recycling old building parts is far from a novel idea. In the 6th century, architect, mathematician and city planner Anthemius incorporated 107 columns salvaged from ancient ruins to build Saint Sophia Cathedral in Istanbul, Turkey (the fourth largest cathedral in the world). In the early 20th century, architect Julia Morgan built William Randolph Hearst’s mansion in San Simeon, California, incorporating entire ceilings, walls, and floors salvaged from medieval castles and churches.

Since the late 1970s, though, our growing appreciation of rescued building parts has led to a dwindling supply of salvage. As a result, prices have skyrocketed, restricting many of those one-of-a-kind treasures to the highest bidder. Luckily this active market has introduced several different salvage sources for the old-house restorer. From nonprofit organizations to reproductions, from the Web to Europe’s junkyards, the venues for salvage have become as eclectic as the salvage itself.

Haute Couture

Perhaps the biggest development in recent years has been that salvage marketplaces look more like a salon at Musée des Beaux Arts than Fred Sanford’s front yard. Many dealers have shifted to predominately high-end decorative architectural antiques rather than mundane building materials, and for good reason: They command higher prices. Many dealers have turned to Europe, Africa, and South America for such eye candy items. These upscale boutiques cater to old-house restorers with healthy budgets as well as lovers of antiquity. Housed in a defunct grain warehouse in San Jose, California’s, historic district, Artefact Design and Salvage is such an attractive retail space it has won a national award for its good looks owner David Allen even rents the shop for parties. In 1996, Allen began selling from his front yard a host of Classical and Neoclassical garden ornaments that he had handpicked from demolition sites on the East Coast. Once his clientele started to block street traffic he knew it was time to move his operation to a larger space. Open two years, the shop has become one of the leading high-end architectural antique salvage shops on the West Coast. “Luckily the recycling movement, nostalgia for craftsmanship and poverty has saved many old buildings from the wrecking ball,” says Allen, who lectures on the history of architectural salvage.

Liz's Antique Hardware has more than a million pieces of salvaged hardware. (Photo: Philip Clayton-Thompson)

Evan Blum knows salvage. A 30-year veteran of the industry, Blum, owner of Demolition Depot in New York City, has saved ornament from such landmarks as the Commodore Hotel, the Audubon Ballroom and Horn and Hardhart’s Automat. “In the 70s no one saved anything,” says Blum. “I’d just go to the edge of a demolition site and haul off a doorway.” Today his business is booming with such celebrity clients as Robert DeNiro and Isabella Rossellini. The four-story, early 20th-century building in Harlem is truly a Gimbels of architectural salvage: first floor, decorative glass knobs and lamps; second floor, interior and exterior doors; third floor, tubs and sinks; fourth floor, plantation shutters and windows. When Andy Rooney of CBS’s 60 Minutes visited Blum last year to report on who still takes baths, Blum showed him Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney’s tub from a house in Old Westbury, Long Island, pointing out that such a tub would fetch three, six or even seven thousand dollars.

Owner of Architectural Artifacts, Inc., in Chicago, Stuart Grannen creatively displays his collection in 30,000 square feet of retail space. Grannen is a purist who deals only in antiques, no reproductions. His collection includes a WWI biplane, a 14′ Art Deco sign from a train station in Buffalo, 150-plus terracotta lions, stone fountains, Daniel Burnham window grilles and a private collection of Louis Sullivan relics. Grannen makes several buying trips a year to Europe to collect the worn wares. Each piece in the shop is labeled with the price and origin. “People want to know where a piece comes from,” says Grannen. “It adds so much to the story.”

Salvage Online

Artefact Design and Salvage of San Jose carries high-end salvage. Its owner, David Allen, lectures on the history of salvage several times a year. (Photo: John Brennan)

The web is a great place to start your search for that perfect Colonial Revival mantel (check out our comprehensive directory). Most salvage shops have inventory posted online, which literally opens up the world market to you at the click of a mouse. Although you may find pictures of wares on your computer, many dealers won’t sell over the web. “It’s really a touchy-feely market,” says Mark Charry of Architectural Antiques Exchange in Philadelphia.

People are spending a lot of money and want to know what they are getting first hand. Salvoweb.com, a UK-based web directory for 75 salvage dealers from Canada, England, France, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales, has established a code of ethics for the dealers they represent. The aim is to give buyers confidence that items purchased have not been stolen or removed from a historic property without permission. A New England dealer browsing Salvoweb’s theft alerts realized two urns stolen from a UK household were in his showroom. “The salvage dealer contacted Salvo, and the urns were returned,” says Kay Thorton, a partner in Salvo. Thorton says the biggest change in European salvage is the introduction of reproductions. Salvo also publishes SalvoNEWS and Salvo Magazine, both dedicated to the European salvage industry.

Arcsal.com, a British company, also signs a host of UK architectural antiques dealers and displays a selection of their stock on the web. Visitors can search by category for the desired piece. Arcsal won’t conduct the full sale over the Internet, but rather encourages the customer to contact them via phone to discuss the purchase.

Budget Salvage

Do you want to replace that 1970s vanity in your 1930s lavatory with something more historically appropriate, but can’t afford the porcelain wall-mounted sink at the salvage shop? With salvage items becoming more expensive each year, there is still hope for those on a budget. “You could build a house out of what some people throw away,” says Leslie Kirkland, executive director of the Loading Dock, a nonprofit building materials warehouse in Baltimore, Maryland. In the business of servicing low-income homeowners who have restoration projects, the Loading Dock has rescued 33,000 tons of building materials from landfills.

To shop at the 21,000-square-foot emporium that sells donated surplus materials as well as salvage, you must be affiliated with a low-income housing organization, a community center or neighborhood improvement group. However, the Loading Dock has recently started Reuse Friends, a program that allows preservation group members to come and shop for salvage in a designated area. Here they’ll find goods at a fraction of the cost at most for-profit shops.

The Brass Knob in Washington, D.C., sends its clawfoot tubs off-site for refinishing. (Photo: Charles Steck)

Windows go for $10 to $40 a pop, while a Carrara marble mantelpiece in perfect condition could fetch $300. Most of the salvage pieces are donated from Baltimore’s older homes going through gut rehabs. The organization also receives donations from hotels and municipal buildings. You could find 1940s porcelain wall-mounted sinks from Washington, D.C.’s, Roosevelt Hotel or 20 pairs of French doors from a historic Reistertown, Maryland, house. A clawfoot tub in good shape could be had for $100. Interior doors go for about $10 to $25, exterior doors $25 to $40.

Thrifty Salvage

Today many charity thrift shops around the country sell more than fur wraps, bell-bottoms, and costume jewelry. Antiques and architectural elements are popping up on charity shop sale floors and as a rule of thumb these thrift shops price merchandise from one-third to one-fourth below the market cost.

Housing Works, a nonprofit organization supporting New York City homeless who are HIV-positive, has sold such architectural salvage as eave brackets, a set of eight Victorian walnut doors and gilded brass bath fixtures out of its four thrift shops. “We receive a wide variety of antique architectural elements old porcelain sinks, pediments, mantels,” says Matthew Aquilone, the shop’s visual director. We have a number of celebrity donors such as fashion designer Marc Jacobs, who recently donated 15 light fixtures. Some of the most interesting pieces Aquilone has spied are alabaster capitals and columns, antique bricks, and Dutch doors.

Although high overhead has forced many to close, a few preservation organizations still run salvage yards with more affordable merchandise. Because salvage rights usually go to the highest bidder, these shops don t have a vast inventory and may be open only one or two days a month. Call your local preservation office to see if your city has such a program. Habitat for Humanity also operates re-use shops called Re-Store. Dealing mainly in building supplies, the organization occasionally receives donations from demolition sites.

At Your Service

Liz's Antique Hardware in Los Angeles will help customers match missing hardware for a mere $10. (Photo: Philip Clayton-Thompson)

Just like trying to find the match for a lost earring, finding one Victorian cabinet pull to complete a set of eight can be virtually impossible. Liz’s Antique Hardware in Los Angeles, California, feels your pain. For $10 owner Liz Gordon will attempt to match hardware based on photographs. We may find all the hardware you need in a single pattern but the pieces might have different manufacturers finishes, says store manager Terri Hartman. If you want all the pieces to be finished in the same material, take them to a plating company.

Send Vintage Plumbing Bathroom Antiques in Northridge, California, your vintage bath fixtures, and for a small fee  they’ll refurbish them for you. They carry salvaged vintage bathroom items from Kohler, Standard Sanitary Company, and L.Wolff Manufacturing among others. The Brass Knob in Washington, D.C., has been in the salvage business since 1982 and has a collection of more than 400 clawfoot tubs in stock at any given time. Although the company doesn’t do the work on-site, it will send tubs out for refinishing for about $450.

Niche salvage is also big. David Caligeros now restricts the inventory of Remains, once a full-line salvage shop in New York City, to strictly salvage and reproduction lighting fixtures. Uptown, across from Demolition Depot, Schmuck Brothers opened last year, selling New York’s largest inventory of salvaged mantels in its five-story warehouse. You’ll find nearly every material and period represented in this hip brick warehouse.

Great Pretenders

If your search for the item that will finish off your restoration project has come up short, there may still be a happy ending. People have realized the value of what’s in old houses and are keeping them rather than trashing them, says John Williams of New York City’s Urban Archaeology. While the company is still selling unique salvage items, in recent years it has delved so deeply into reproductions that new merchandise has become 90 percent of its business. The move began when the shop was down to its last Carrara marble washbasin from the Saint Regis Hotel and the owners replicated the sink.

Also imposters are the company’s lines of Walter Gropius door levers and Yale Club nickel-plated towel racks. The second floor houses their tile showroom with reproductions from the Arts & Crafts period.

The Loading Dock in Baltimore is a nonprofit organization that carries more mundane building materials for house restoration projects. (Photo: Charles Steck)

Mark Charry of Architectural Antiques Exchange in Philadelphia started in the salvage business in 1977 when his college began gutting old houses on campus to use as administration offices and classrooms. “They were dumping loads of beautiful windows, doors, and mantelpieces into the trash,” says Charry. He took the initiative to save these pieces and start his own business. Although his main thrust is still salvaged goods, he too has branched out, selling reproduction Victorian-style doors and Regency, Colonial and Art Nouveau mantels. Charry also shops in Europe several times a year, retrieving architectural antiques such as 16th-century limestone mantelpieces perfect for America’s early 20th-century Tudor houses.

Tips on Buying Salvage

When Size Matters
“Measure, measure, measure,” says Bill Raymer, owner of Restoration Resources in Boston, which has one of the best selections of architectural salvage in that city and fairly priced. “Look at the scale of what you’re purchasing in relation to your house. An oversized piece can overwhelm a room. Don’t forget to include the thickness of a door as well as the height and width. Windows are especially hard to fit, so much so that many salvage dealers have stopped selling them.”

Up to Code
“Many old toilets don’t meet code today,” says Raymer. “You need a 1.6-gallon flush; also find out about overflow drains in the bathtub plumbing you’re buying.” A mantel’s openings may not meet today’s size code. “Check the clearance from the firebox opening to the wood surround,” says Raymer.

Used sinks at The Loading Dock await new homes. (Photo: Charles Steck)

Up to Snuff
Vitreous china is of a higher quality than porcelain-enameled sinks and tubs and is priced accordingly. When it comes to buying marble, Raymer suggests staying away from pieces that have been painted. “Marble is porous and the stains are hard to get out. Look at the quality of the casting when purchasing cast-iron garden urns.” “Older pieces have much better quality,” says David Allen of Artefact Design and Salvage. “Details are clearer. If a piece is welded it was made after 1920.”

Honesty: The Best Policy
“Know where a piece came from,” says architect John Milner, AIA, of John Milner Architects. “Sadly, there’s a lot of stolen property out there.”

Do Your House Homework
Establish the period and style of your house before striking out. Allen suggests asking salvage dealers if they have old building material catalogs to help you determine what style might be appropriate.

If your house dates to the 1700s, chances are you won’t stumble across authentic iron thumb latches or strap hinges for your door restoration you’ll have to rely on good reproductions. If your house is post-1865 you’re in luck. “Victorian hardware was the height of the American decorative hardware industry filigree work was very common,” says Terri Hartman of Liz’s Antique Hardware in Los Angeles. While high-quality cast brass is becoming scarce, pressed-iron and brass is still available in abundance.

Salvage Put to Good Use
Milner doesn’t introduce salvaged pieces into his restoration projects. “I don’t like to confuse the project by bringing in materials from other sources,” he says. Instead he will have the missing or damaged pieces replicated. “Historic reconstruction is another matter. I bought part of a room 15 years ago and didn’t have a place for it,” he says. “I finally designed a room around it.” Milner uses the salvage materials as they would have been used in the past, incorporating entire ceiling beam systems for instance, not just as ornament but to serve as structural support.