This exterior rendering of Bungalow Heights, the new bar-restaurant going up at 1919 Beall St., the former site of Air Cool and the Junk Goes Green recycling center one block west of the Cedar Creek Bar & Grill on 20th St., shows a building with a lot of bungalow parts assembled in somewhat bungalow-ish fashion, being patronized by what appear to be normal-sized humans. But take a close look at the scale of the thing in proportion to the surrounding figures — and the actual framing now up on the site pictured above — and you’ll soon realize this is a building where every part is probably going to be a whole lot bigger than what it’s modeled after.
For starters, the structure itself measures 5,000 sq. ft. — about the size of the typical lot you might find a bungalow sitting on. This site itself is two-thirds of an acre. Contractor Avan Construction installed the building’s trusses last week with a crane. (The longest truss spans almost 70 ft. and weighs over 400 lbs.) Inside, you’ll find a floor plan significantly different from the typical living-dining-kitchen on one side, bedroom-bath-bedroom on the other arrangement of an unexpanded bungalow:
Whatever the original plans were for the partial demolition of the gray-painted 1940 bungalow that sat across the street from the Menil Collection and across the footpath to the West Alabama St. parking lot from the Menil Bookstore, they appear to have been exceeded. A reader sends in these photos of the construction site at 1512 Sul Ross St.; they show that the woodframe structure intended for “adaptive reuse” into a new Bistro Menil according to a design by Stern and Bucek Architects has been removed entirely.
The Menil had announced plans for the bungalow-to-bistro conversion at that spot last October, in concert with an upgrade of the parking-lot path into a “new campus gateway” designed by landscape firm Michael Van Valkenburgh Associates. “In keeping with the emphasis on sustainability that is a keynote of the landscape design,” read a Menil press release, “the Menil’s café is designed by Stern and Bucek through the adaptive reuse of one of the bungalows that define the character of the Menil’s campus.” The press release also noted that the Menil’s architect, Renzo Piano, had originally proposed putting a café in this exact location. Since named (via a contest) Bistro Menil, the arts institution’s first eating spot is set to be run by Café Annie, Taco Milagro, and Café Express alum Greg Martin.
The speckled-yellow-brick 1935 bungalow at 1705 Dunlavy St. is dead. Missed seeing that address, one lot deep into the third block south of West Gray, on Swamplot’s Daily Demolition Report? So did we. But a helpful neighbor was on hand this week to take notes — and pics — of the take-down. This counts as the first demolition of a non-corner Dunlavy house in “a while,” our local correspondent announces. “It was in disrepair for a few years, so [I’m] not surprised it’s gone.”
A barn door and a side fence help define space for a Sunset Heights home, but neither appears to be a fixed feature. The interior’s barn door, for example, rolls into place to screen shut a bedroom otherwise open to the main hallway (at right). And beyond the side fence, there’s a vacant lot, but half of it belongs to this property. The souped-up straight-shot bungalow appeared on the market last week with a $475,000 asking price.
Crack open the rubied exterior (top) for the creamy filling (above) of this red-brick cottage finished with brick-red paint. The updated 1928 North Norhill home spent Memorial Day weekend getting itself listed, at $389,900.
That there’s some pretty bad Feng Shui going down in this commercial for Honda, which was filmed in Vancouver and shown on teevee and the web beginning last October. The man behind the wheel of the CR-V sure is driving some bad chi into the gullet of the far-from-the-prairie home at the end of the T-intersection, to the encouraging narration of Garrison Keillor. But isn’t the house kinda asking for it anyway, what with all that glimmering vortex-popping and all?
And gee, doesn’t the hole stabbing through the house look a heck of a lot like . . . that temporary sculpture that stood on Montrose Blvd. in Houston a few years back? Portal to another dimension? Naah — from here it looks more like a shortcut to Grant St.
COMMENT OF THE DAY: ODE TO A DOOMED ALABAMA PLACE BUNGALOW, WITH CAVEATS “Poor, poor 2205 Branard.
I know the standard Swamplottian response is ‘if you’re so sad to see it go, buy it.‘ I know that it was built in 1939, and wasn’t necessarily meant to last past 1989. I know that it may have structural problems, need electrical updates, and have a tiny kitchen.
I know all those things, yet I can’t look at this adorable brick house, this poor condemned soul with its neck on the chopping block, and not get a lump in my throat.
What did this house do to deserve such a fate? Did it not bow down to the ballroom-sized bathroom trend? Did it refuse to tart itself up in stucco to suit the Tuscan-craving masses? Did it commit the crime of having only (gasp!) 8′ tall ceilings?! Perhaps it was simply the offense of having a pleasing ratio of height, fenestration, and visual interest that doesn’t say ‘screw you, street, I don’t care what I look like outside, because I have granite countertops, slate backsplashes and crown moulding!‘
Does this make me a house-hugger? Probably.
Will this earn me a thorough flaming from other commenters? Definitely.
[Pours some out for fallen soldier 2205 Branard]” [Jennifer Mathis, commenting on Daily Demolition Report: No, Virginia]
COMMENT OF THE DAY: IN SEARCH OF GENTLE DEMOLITION “Serious question here.
I live in what is basically a future tear-down. It was my first house purchase 20 years ago, and I’m still in it. It’s a remuddled 30s-40s bungalow that looks like someone hired their brother-in-law to do the work, and it was previously a rental before I bought it. I’ve been resisting doing anything major to it because I have been actively looking for a ‘real house’ for quite a while now.
It has the original 3″ oak floors that probably still have quite a bit of wear left in them, seeing as they haven’t been sanded and refinished very many times (only once in the last 20 years, and probably not more than once before that). It has an awesome counterweighted attic door that rolls down instead of unfolding. The bathroom sinks are older than I am (they’re dated on the bottom). The vintage 6-gallon-flush toilets might be desired by someone. Certainly the scrap metal inside the walls could fetch some bucks.
So there might be some parts worth saving. But how do I find someone to deconstruct it, when that time comes?” [GoogleMaster, commenting on Comment of the Day: Used House Parts Scouting Report]
COMMENT OF THE DAY: THE TEARDOWN DOGWHISTLE “I found that calling a property a ‘Charming Bungalow’ on MLS is a way to send a message to developers ‘Lot Value!!!’ without offending the hipsters in the neighborhood. Much like other beloved MLS code phrases . . . Fixer upper = Utter Dump, beware of tetanus!, Up and coming neighborhood = Sleep with one eye open and a finger on the trigger, Cosy = you’re better off living in a closet where you are now, Great Art Scene = Masses of unbathed malcontents roaming the streets and coffee shops.” [Commonsense, commenting on Daily Demolition Report: Care for a Tower of Prayer]
Courtesy of a Swamplot reader who watched some of Houston Habitat for Humanity’s work dismantling the 1925 bungalow at 1310 Welch St. in Hyde Park, here’s an abbreviated photographic guide to the process. Above: the home on June 7th. And here’s how it looked just last weekend, with all the work complete:
Part of its roof already lopped off and broken free from its brick-fireplace anchor, about half of the 1910 duplex at the corner of W. Drew and Crockett in East Montrose made a break for it last night. A Swamplot reader on the escape route sends in these photos of the scene:
Sculptor Dan Havel sends in photos of the construction he and fellow demo artist Dean Ruck have been working on for months in a new pocket park at 3705 Lyons Ave. More than a month before its debut as the backdrop for a community concert (yes, that’s a stage poking out from the front), Havel says their project is “substantially complete,” though there are still a few more details to fill in, including stairs for the stage and some landscaping. Working from a ready-to-be-knocked-down house from a couple miles northeast at 3012 Erastus St., Havel and Ruck added, ahem, a whole lot of support to the interior, as these photos taken earlier in the summer show:
Here’s a 1920 bungalow taking up valuable space on a 7,000-sq.-ft. lot on Merrill St. near Watson. The lot size and the Woodland Heights address make the “perfect combination for building your new home in the Heights,” declares the new listing. The structure, “in need of extensive repairs,” features 3 apparently unphotographable bedrooms and 1 bath. List price: $245,000.
When last Swamplot visited the tiny Freeland Historic District at the foot of the Heights almost a year ago, Samantha Wood and her husband, architect Jack Preston Wood, had just given up on plans to purchase a little bungalow at 536 Granberry St., demolish it, and replace it with a new 1-1/2-story bungalow. The Woods’ earlier plans — to build two 4-story townhomes on the property — stirred up protests from neighbors and a rejection from the city historical commission.
Did all that hullabaloo in the newly-minted historic district scare off potential buyers? A Freeland neighbor says no — and suspects most of the neighborhood’s new attention is coming from builders:
525 Granberry Street (now listed on the tax rolls and MLS as 525 E. 5th 1/2 Street) went on the market last week. So many offers have been received they ask that final bids go in tomorrow, April 16.
Why would builders be so interested in this property?