Hate Crimes Part I

Most vernacular housing built in Los Angeles between 1870 - 1920, was clad with wood. After World War I however, house styles began to change (again) and stucco became the dominant exterior treatment. Stucco is a mixture of cement, sand, water, and lime; and, is applied to almost any rigid surface by trowel. It's a versatile compound with great expressive qualities and tremendous durability.

So what's my beef? More of the usual, I've grown increasingly unwilling to absolve those who suffocate beautifully modulated clapboard and shingle in a stucco straitjacket. I don't care about lower maintenance claims; or, that a stucco facade is associated with high status in Timbuktu.
The latter is touchy stuff, but who's got patience for ethnocentrism? I neither insist on a seventh-inning stretch at the bull fight, nor refuse to remove my galoshes when entering a traditional Japanese interior.

Yeah, the defenders cry, but you're an educated mutt who understands theories of cultural relativism. "What about the loss of unique culture forms," I rebut somewhat anfractuously, "doesn't that deserve a little play?" Anyhow before I devolve into an irresolvable hash-slinger about enculturation and perception, back to the gripe.

This architecturally dulling process is generally accomplished by firstly attaching some form of wire lath to the wood siding. Often moldings are discarded too, or consumed by the application.
Preservation may not be about aesthetics, but dang it's hard to believe some would prefer "the flat."

The sociologists chime in again: judgements are based on experience, and experience is interpreted by each individual in terms of his own enculturation.

Can I get an expert witness?!

High Crimes

Sunday I endured one of the real estate professionals least-liked circumstances, I happened upon so-called "clients" tom-catting around with another agent. Now I've never claimed to be a man of universal appeal, or the agent for all; furthermore, these were not people with whom I had ever consummated a deal. Still, I'd maintained an e-mail dialogue for over a years' time, sprinkled with occasional showings, and very recent contact.

To make matters worse, this violation of the presumptive social contract occurred whilst I was with a potential buyer at an open house--held by my broker. In other words, they schtupped me in front of my boss and an important client.

Afterwards, this important client sympathized, "that probably happens to real estate agents all the time."
"You know," I responded after a moments delay, "it probably does, and I'm probably lucky because it never happens to me. I have very loyal clients. I'm a leader in my market and people recognize my expertise."

Later, I called my agent buddies seeking to extract tales of treason.
One suggested I consult Revengemark stationary, greeting cards with an extended middle finger. Another told of the dagger-in-the-back legend, or Dolchstosslegende, and its damaging impacts. All had been shafted at least once, and all were curious how I'd respond.

"I may not," I began, "real estate agents have to be a little like NFL cornerbacks, the position on the field with the shortest memory. If I'm still frettin' the last play, I might miss the next one."

Spring Tour Part One

Founded in 1983, the West Adams Heritage Association celebrates its 25th year of preservation advocacy with a blockbuster tour, "Landmarks of West Adams," June 7th.

My paltry contributions to this dynamic event, includes photography of the seven disparite landmarks. (First image, Villa Maria, a 42 room Tudor revival manor built in 1908, and now owned by the Brothers of St. John of God.)

To order tickets in advance ($30/$25 for WAHA members), send a check payable to WAHA, to 2209 Virginia Road, Los Angeles, CA 90016.

(Second image: Engine Co. No. 18, a 1904 Mission Revival firehouse designed by City Hall architect John Parkinson.)

For more information, please call the WAHA reservations Hotline at 323-732-4223, or e-mail tours@westadamshertiage.org. Volunteers should write to the web-site address as well.

Tickets will also be available on the day of the event (for $35) at the check-in house, 2468 South St. Andrews Place (located between Adams and 24th ST).

(Final image, the work of architect John C. Austin and a most sophisticated North University Park Craftsmen.)

Protocol

The notebook you see during my opens, worn and loose-leafed, is not a sign-in sheet, it's a poor man's day planner, filled with the ephemera and mad jottings of an obsessive.

I don't require open house visitors to sign in, and I don't collect random phone numbers or e-mails. Might I initiate dialogue, troll for unaffiliated buyers, do I look to form relationships and opportunities for follow up? Absolutely. But do I cull anonymous lists of brunch-ed-up Sunday strollers, tire kickers, and neighborhood lookie-loos, as phone fodder for a momentum-less Wednesday? Nah.

I'm not judging agents that do, everybody's got a different methodology, a different survival diet.
One agent, known to me well, vigorously enforces a sign-in decorum. "You've my home number," I complained once, "do you really need this?"
"It's three-fold," she explained, "in case something is stolen I've a list of all visitors. Secondly, when I campaign for a price reduction, I can show my seller a roll call. Lastly, I add the e-mails to my data base for e-flyers."
"Makes sense," I answered, "only what thief is going to provide accurate contact info?"

I don't choose to cold call or door knock either, though some agents drilled with lead-generation mantras, process numbers like a phone bank regular, and march through neighborhoods with storm trooper-like precision. One of my Westside cronies confessed, "I love to door knock. I pick beautiful neighborhoods, and I meet people. It's my version of playing 18 holes."
Another agent declared, "I cold call every Monday morning for two hours, it's part of my regimen. In order to be successful you have to be disciplined."
"What're you implying," I responded testily.
"Nothing," she continued, "I know you're disciplined, why else would you spent so much flippin' time on your blog?!"

More Bar Removal

Hunter Ochs rang, "I read the blog entry about bar removal (Gone in 20 Minutes), and it sounded fun--particularly the part about the taqueria."

"It isn't fun," I countered, "it's a freshet of hot sparks, flakes of metal, and paint--hard, dirty work....I'll call Josh, we'll be right over."

I'm asked repeatedly about the presence of security bars in West Adams. Mostly, they're a vestige of an earlier, more fearful time, beginning with the 'defensible spaces' discourse of the 1970's. Form follows fear. These bars were installed at least two owners ago, prior to 1990.

A few concerned homeowners go beyond window bars, utilizing alienated poochies, razor wire, alarm systems, even protection from a higher power. Statues of the Virgin Mary, housed in plexiglass trophy cases or in a spotlit niche.

Still, security bars are as often removed today in southern Mid-City as installed. Frequently the catalyst for bar removal is the simple need to paint. After the purge, some residents initially feel a bit exposed, even vulnerable, though usually such feelings are short-lived. Most later indicate a greater sense of engagement and connectedness with the exterior.

Many homeowners remove their security grilles an exposure at a time--an audition of sorts, beginning in the front, and ending in the rear.

The holes left by the bolts can be filled with wood dowels, chiseled, filled, and sanded flush.

Manufacturers seek to make these impregnations more decorative, like wrought iron rather than mild steel, with ridiculous curly ques, spears, finials, and twists.

Rather like trying to make a silk purse of a sow's ear.

2241 and 1/2 W. 24th ST

Today's open: 2 - 5 pm.

Things wrong with 2241 and 1/2 W. 24th ST:

1. There isn't a lot of work to do.
Admittedly, the major systems (electric, plumbing, roof, heating/cooling) all have been replaced, floors have been refinished, most appliances and fixtures are new.

2. It's a bad house for an exhibitionist.
Granted, the setting is very private, positioned in the rear of a deep lot, nearly hidden from the street.

3. The kitchen is too big.
Buyers looking for a narrow galley-style kitchen might be deterred by an eat-in workspace greater than 200 square feet.


4. It's under priced.
Offered at $489,000 it is the least expensive house in either Kinney or Western Heights, the two neighborhoods that straddle the 10 freeway, between Arlington and Western.

5. The lot is worthy of animals, consumed by greenery.
I concede.

Clinkers, Tifals,...Clifals!

Sometimes clients inspire these entries, so when David & Gisa bought 2881 W. 15th ST (no, not 2892 W. 15th ST), they asked about their clinker brick porch, and I began to recount details of my post on Clinker Brick (see The Brick Pile 2/24/07).

"But really," I advised, "your porch combines clinker brick and stone, which is referred to as Peanut Brittle or Brickle."

"And are there many other examples of this," they asked, doubtless trying to spur a blog entry, mad picture taking, and some fossil fuel usage.

"More chimneys than porches," I responded coyly, "but there is one block--not far from here, with the greatest array of Arts & Crafts era masonry porches anywhere in the Southland."
"Here in West Adams," they asked taking the bait.
"No."
"In Pasadena," Gisa inquired, whilst David slyly abstained. My head fanned slowly back and forth.
"In Echo Park or Hollywood," she questioned, with slight irritation but growing intrigue.
"No," I answered finally, "in the Tifal Brothers Tract, the 600 block of East 52nd Place."

"The Tifal Brothers?"

Omniscient voice (is this to what 'heteroglossia' refers?): The Tifal brothers, Charles, Gustav, and William were designers and builders, immigrants from Posen of the then German Republic, who constructed over 350 bungalows in Los Angeles and another 100 in Monrovia where they were based, and where their work is most celebrated.

Charles Tifal (later partnered with Ralph Hurlburt) also had a long career (which included work in a range of styles) in San Diego where he is recognized by the Historical Resources Board as a Master Builder.

The Tifal Bros. Tract features examples of River Rock or Arroyo Stone porches, glazed bricks, Brickle, Tapestry (or multi-colored) Brick, and brick work laid in a seemingly chaotic, bond-less fashion, called Eccentric Brickwork.

The 600 block of E. 52nd Place is located between Avalon and McKinley.

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Tuesday's Open: 2892 W. 15th ST 11 am - 2 pm

Saturday

Sunday schedule: 2892 W. 15th ST.
Open 2 - 5 pm

This might be my final Sunday open for this property, given the high interest level and anticipated offers.

The Devil's in the Thingee Part 3

My parlor games failed, the bait was left to age and molder, a psychological gambit gone belly up.

Yeah, I got more pictures to share of the minutiae turned mania (even if y'all didn't come asking): criss-cross apple sauce, er bargeboards (please see earlier installments). Including our first single story participant (see above).

How about our first front gable/rear gable matched set (see opposite).

I think I've finally worked through this--whatever it is, and now I'm ready to obsess some more about the Stick style, broke down cars, serpentine bath fixtures--you know, the day in/day out stuff.

More Ads 4

More Ads from 1907. (See original entry on 1/27/2007, or subequent entries in March, 2007)

See bottom classified. The 4-room Modern Cottage at 1565 E. 52ND (ST.) is gone. An unremarkable box sits in its place, tacked together in 1962.

Meanwhile, the (equally) Modern 8-room house (second ad from the top) still shines despite alterations. The shade trees can be seen in rear, though not the barn. 1140 East Adams today (below).