Posting some pictures of the McCuiston House for those who haven't already seen them. I haven't done much work inside the house this summer as I have been focusing on the outside while the weather allows. I have finally completed almost all of the major outdoor projects. I still have about 1/2 the large wood pool fence to stain (not period, of course, but trying to do it in natural colors so it blends with the Victorian part of the house as best as possible). I have completed the deck on the 1940s (?) closed-in connector part of the house and still need to paint the lattice that fences off the cellar stairs.
My story: I had been home searching for about a year or so, with my heart set on an old house. I go into more detail about this on my blog, so feel free to check it out. Anyway, I was getting pretty discouraged with the whole process. One day, my friends and I noticed a realtor showing this massive hot mess. We pulled in the driveway and asked if we could go in to see inside the place. I tell you, it was a mess. Critters had moved in, pieces of wall coverings were hainging from the ceiling, and it smelled like something had died in the place (it probably had...). A terrible leak had formed in the dining section ceiling of the kitchen wing. I mean terrible. I called it "mini Niagara".
Here is the house at the time of abandonment:
Just imagine it like this, all sides of the house. It had sat abandoned for about two years due to a forclosure situation. Nasty, nasty, nasty.
My friend--bless his wonderful soul--got the crazy notion to buy the house, fix it up, and resell it. He saw the potential and had the means to get it started. So, he started calling contractor friends and I started digging into the history of the property and the proper techniques to use to restore the house to the point a bank would allow someone to buy it with a mortgage. He got the house for a song (he can sell ice to an eskimo), and our contractor friends got to work.
Mismatched plastic shutters immediately had to go, as did the poison ivy, English ivy, and wisteria that had taken over the house and property. The aluminum siding was pressure washed and spray painted a clean white, a new roof was put on (we picked architectural shingles in green, but looking back now we should have picked the ones that look like shakes... Tin was the original pick but the contractor said there were "too many valleys" in the roofline to install and keep from leaking...
The six columns on the 1920s/'30s porch remodel were completely rotted out and had no choice but to go (twas a miracle the porch still stood). The contractor then suggested all of the old windows needed to be replaced with vinyl. It was then that I, as the "consult for historical restoration" got the closest my Southern lady self has ever come to cussin' a soul out. Unashamedly and in front of my pastor himself, I told the contractor that Hell itself would freeze over and I would personally be there selling ice cream before I would allow him to touch a single window in the place.
The windows stayed without argument.
The walls in the downstairs bedroom were so badly damaged they had to be torn out to the studs, which allowed for insulation to be put in. It also allowed me to win the bet that the original siding was still in place behind the aluminum. Boo-ya, don't mess with the gut instincts of a farmgirl granddaughter of a old-skill carpenter!
As soon as it was repaired to the point a bank would be happy, my friend graciously offered to sell the house to me, and after a short period of it being rented out to a family member in need, I was able to buy it and call her home. After that point, all of the work in and around the home has been done by myself or with the aid of my parents.
Bedroom before
Bedroom during--Note the wallpaper fragments over the far-right door. That is the original wallpaper to this room! I tried to save it, but it literally crumbled in my hands. During this process, some of the guys had to work very hard to properly destroy all of the original woodwork in this room. Yep. I came in one morning, told the guys to be sure to use extreme caution when removing the woodwork (I started to do it myself but I had to be at work and figured they were capable), and when I came by at lunch with my friend who had bought the place, I asked them where the woodwork was. They stopped looking me in the eye (bless their hearts...), and one of them said it was going to be easier to just put new stuff up. Lord have mercy, so help me I stood in the middle of that dust-filled room in my heels and pearls, pulled every stitch of tomboy-farmgirl-redneck in my soul and blessed the dang crap out of those young idiots. Fortunately, the head guy came in to see their work, overheard me blessing them out, and when I left to go outside to cool off he finished by saying to them the words I would not say because I am a lady (although believe you me I was sure thinking them...). Since then, I have discovered that all of the "publically viewable" woodwork in the house has faux bois wood graining on it, so I am sure I am going to have one stinkin' time trying to replicate it on their new moldings... idiots.
Ugh... just look a that pine........
Bedroom pretty much as it is now, with the exception of the pair of period curtain tiebacks I have put in. Primer is still on the walls until I find the right wallpaper to go up. I also have to strip the woodwork, find an appropriate ceiling fixture, and tear out the drywall ceiling to restore the original beadboard that is behind it. I also hope to make period-correct curtains based on the old styles in a 1870s catalog my grandmother found in the loft of their old cabin.
The parlor, before and now:
Still need to rip out drywall ceiling (original beadboard ceiling seems to be intact with the original two shades of green paint and some sort of gold pinstripe detail), find a period-correct ceiling light, find another Bradley & Hubbard sconce, and strip and restore the faux bois woodwork. Fireplace also needs to be lined and the firebox restored to be used again. The room with the Christmas tree used to be part of the original L-shape porch. It was enclosed around the time of the 1920s remodel by the builder's daughter. It is my hope to restore the porch, but I do like this little room so I hope to come up with a way to honor the original design while keeping this little nook.
Oh, and the contractor guys also managed to "lose" the original slide bolt locks on the French doors. I threw another hissy fit at them over it.
All furniture is from the 1850s-1880s, except for the Kimball reproduction tables and side chairs. Portrait is a wonderful reproduction of
Portrait of a Southern Lady by Daniel Huntington (American artist, 1816-1906), one of my favorites. I haven't found the right one yet for the opposite side of the room.
My dog has a funny habit of running to the center of the picture and posing when she hears my camera click. I don't know what she thinks I am doing, but she always has to pose... little rascal.
My grandmother turns 80 soon, and her brothers and sisters are not in the best of health, so I said enough of the talk, it's time to do something about it. With only about a month's notice, around 60 of the 120-some in my family descended on the McCuiston House for one of those old dinner-on-the-ground suppers. Two of my great aunts were literally moved to tears at the family being together at an old farmhouse again. It was crowded and we ate outside in the Southern humidity, but everyone said it was the best family get-together held since the days of my great-grandmother doing it. I have been volunteered to hold it again next summer, and this time all of the 120 are planning to come. 
), we are giving honor to those before us who lived where we now live and loved the home we now love. 
