Evers - The old-house doctor: the essential guide to repairing, restoring, and rejuvenating your old home

The black bag of an old time old-house doctor

Christopher Elvers

Illustrated by
HARRIET HASON

Skyhorse Publishing

Publishers disclaimer:

This is a reprint of the 1986 edition of the book. The publisher and the author have agreed to leave the book in its original form, as the basic information herein has not changed. Please consult your local home improvement store or online for updated pricing and materials when necessary.

Copyright 2013 by Christopher Evers

First published in 1986 by The Overlook Press.

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews or articles. All inquiries should be addressed to Skyhorse Publishing, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.

ISBN: 978-1-62087-369-4

Printed in the United States of America

To my children, Monir and Ivar

PREFACE
The Old-House Doctor and His Patients

Circulatory and Excretory Systems:
Water Supply and Waste Disposal

The Digestive and Respiratory Systems:
Old-House Energy Consumption and Ventilation

Old-House Cosmetics and Ornamentation: Adding and
Subtracting Wallpaper, Paint, and Other Adornments

APPENDIX
Old House Transplants: Locating Materials
for Your Old-House

The path from original idea to completed book can be narrow and tortuous, with chasms of failure on either hand. This book would surely have perished in the abyss if it werent for the following qualities of its collaborators and supporters; the incredible diligence and good humor of Harriet Hason, the patience and cooperation of the late Mr. Alfred Mayer, Peter, Merle, Mark, Irwin and everyone else at Overlook, the understanding and encouragement of my entire family, and especially the helpfulness of my father and my sister Jane, the early enthusiasm and support of Dakin Morehouse and Mel Ringstrom, the encouragement and constructive criticism of Mildred Reid, Bert English and all my other friends at Contoocook, the helpfulness of the Woodstock, Kingston Area, New York Public and New Hampshire State libraries.

During my twenty-one years of professional old-house rehabilitation, I have often laid aside my tools for a moment to ponder the peculiar fascination that old-houses hold for so many people, including myself. Some peoples relationships with them are easily expressed in dollars and cents, for older structures do offer strong financial enticements, such as low purchase price, powerful tax incentives, and the possibility of government grants. Others just find old-houses aesthetically more appealing than new ones. The love that many of us have for them is nevertheless not so easily explained, for its rooted more deeply than the attraction inspired by money or beauty.

What then could be the cause of such a powerful feeling? This question has always plagued me, never yielding to an explanation without leaving new questions in its wake. My choice of professions has particularly perplexed me, ever since the day I gave up my college studies in order to learn the skills required to ease the sufferings of disease-stricken old-houses. This perplexity was greatly increased by the apparent disparity between my chosen profession and the predictions of a curious examination I took as a college freshman.

This prophecy was furnished by the Strong Vocational Interest Test, which asked interminable numbers of seemingly irrelevant questions such as, Are you afraid of spiders? and Do you like people with gold teeth? My answers to such questions demonstrated to my testers satisfaction that the profession of doctor was my first vocational preference, while that of carpenter was my very last. It was thus extremely puzzling to me when I shortly thereafter felt compelled to leave college and obstinately enroll myself in the study of old-house carpentry!

The peculiar fascination of an old-house

My testers conclusions became increasingly mystifying to me as the years passed. I learned the trades of carpenter, painter, plumber, and electrician; yet I seemed no closer to being a doctor than when Id left college. It wasnt until I began to share my old-house experience in the act of writing this book, that the enigma finally became clear to me. My testers had been inscrutably correct all along, for I now realized they had never promised there would be an M.D. after my name, but merely that I wished to be a doctor. And I had been one for many years without being aware of itan old-house doctor!

My previously inexplicable feeling for old-houses was at last clear to me: I had for many years treated my old-house patients almost as if they had really been human beings. Id diagnosed their illnesses, prescribed and administered appropriate courses of treatment for these and had taken great pleasure in watching them grow healthy again. I now look forward to sharing these satisfying years with you and hope they will help you to accord your old-house the care it so richly deserves.

Although the material in this book is largely limited to my personal experience, I have endeavored throughout to make it equally applicable to all old-houses, be they Eastern or Western, urban or rural, pre-Revolutionary or Victorian. It would nevertheless be as foolish for me to claim that I will tell you all you might want to know about your old-house as it would for an M.D. to assert that he had included the entire practice of medicine in one short volume. I do hope that I will answer many of your questions about your old-house and will direct you to many more in the extensive annotated bibliography at the end of the book. Yet I would consider my effort more than worthwhile if I succeeded in no more than imparting to you but a portion of the love and understanding of old-houses that my patients have inspired in me.

I had treated my old-house patients almost as if they had really been human beings.

Have you ever been powerfully attracted to an old-house without quite knowing why? You will open the door to an understanding of this mysterious attraction when you become aware of the unusual relationship between an old-house and the human body. As strange as it may seem, the two so closely parallel each other in so many details of their anatomies and physiologies that they often may be thought of as nearly interchangeable.