CAUTION

The other day, while driving to White Plains, NY (shopping mecca of Westchester County), I was almost pushed off the road by a “Wide Load” manufactured home that was en route to its final destination somewhere off of North Broadway. It reminded me of my very first job, when I served as a legal assistant for Brown & Wood, a law firm that had been hired to handle a variety of mortgage- and asset-backed securitization transactions. The bulk of their mortgage-backed business came from The Resolution Trust Corporation, a quasi-government entity that had been set up to deal with the aftermath of the Savings & Loan crisis in the late 1980’s/early 1990’s. As luck would have it, one of the non-RTC asset classes that demanded significant legal assistant coverage was in the Manufactured Housing sector. And so began my career of handling somewhat unpopular yet necessary assignments.

I enjoyed working on this program for several reasons – it was kooky, in a way, and the associate whose job it was to delegate menial administrative tasks to me was actually a wonderful guy, incredibly smart, and moderately quirky. He admitted to me at one point that when he got married (in his apartment), they needed a witness, so the doorman from his building stepped in. One thing I learned during my tenure as the “Manufactured Housing Contract Specialist” was that our client, Clayton Homes, which at that point was more or less a one man show, had made an awful lot of money fabricating mobile homes and then lending to the buyers. It was a similar concept to what automobile companies were doing – profiting from the sale and the financing. By securitizing his contracts, Clayton could free up capital to make more loans. He was minting money, but he was also helping people achieve the dream of homeownership.

As my career moved toward Commercial and Corporate Real Estate, the plum assignments kept coming in. Property Manager of a building in the Garment District (before it was cool to be in the Garment District) comes to mind as one of the nastier roles I filled. Between the asbestos-laden restaurant space on the ground floor and a client who was less than interested in spending money to fully comply with local laws, this project generally sent Property Managers (including me) running for the door within a year or two. In my next position, at a different company, I was charged with managing the rolling of leases for a large magazine publishing company. Sure, we (at the time) owned such properties as Modern Bride, New York Magazine, and Seventeen, but those were not under my jurisdiction! Instead, I spent my days slogging away at renewals for American Hog Farmer, Beef, Waste Age, and Apartment Guides from here to the west coast. Interestingly, on a trip to Peoria, IL to visit one of our owned sites, I discovered that Shotgun News kept its guns in a closet adjacent to the storage space utilized by Quilting Magazine. Who knew that such varied interests could share office space and services so easily?! At one point, we were endowed with the responsibility to sell all owned Real Estate to free up capital for acquisitions and paying down of debt. The powers that be were intent on getting top dollar for every sale. One of our properties was located in Clarksdale, Mississippi. I received a call shortly after we began advertising it. Our broker in New York directed me to the front page of The New York Times, which showed a picture of President Bill Clinton visiting Clarksdale, Mississippi – on his whistle-stop tour of the ten poorest counties in the country. OK, so we might have trouble finding a buyer for this one.

Most recently, I had the opportunity to assist a professor from Columbia Business School in writing a case study for the Real Estate Department. I was thrilled to be a part of this experience, especially because the cases had been so fascinating when I had been a student 15 years prior. But I should not have been surprised when the topic was revealed: Restructuring A Construction Loan for Self-Storage Development. I must say, I had very little knowledge at the start with regard to the self-storage industry, but I quickly became an expert (of sorts). As I came to find out, this industry has shown enormous growth in the past decade. There appear to be a number of factors that have influenced this growth, including the increased fluidity of people and businesses across the United States, and the resulting need for temporary storage that accompanies transience. Storage space is also generally cheaper than office or residential space, and the units built today are climate-controlled and provide convenience and other amenities geared specifically to storage needs. I might also argue that Americans have more “stuff” now than they used to, partly due to China’s willingness to manufacture pretty much anything in large inexpensive quantities, and we simply must not deny ourselves anything we desire, and partly due to the “manifest destiny” of cheap storage space – “if you build it, they will come.”

So there’s my career in a nutshell. It has thus far provided a few funny anecdotes, a way to pay for my student loans, wedding and housing, but most importantly it has helped me to meet some of the most loved and influential people in my life while enabling me to hone my management, financial, organizing and writing skills. I can only imagine what is next - although it almost certainly will not be glamorous.

Bigger Isn't Better

(PHOTO: Wall of Closet)

My husband and I are practical people, often to a fault. Most decisions big or small require intense scrutiny and analysis. I recently stood in a shoe store for over 30 minutes deciding between two pairs of shoes that were similar but one had a heel and one was flat. The prices were significantly reduced and since I rarely buy anything for myself, I could have eked out the double buy, but that would not have been my way. Anyway, maybe you see where I am going with this. We are still in a holding pattern re: our house project, which gives us plentiful time for further analysis. And so, upon further analysis, we have decided to scale back the project once again.

We recently discovered a very interesting, post-McMansion series of books by Sarah Susanka, called The Not So Big House Books. An architect by trade, Ms. Susanka is peddling the idea that much of what we truly need and desire can be found within the existing walls of our homes, and that by building big we will not necessarily build better. Her timing could not be better – as Americans begin to reject the size and scale of homes built over the past 20 or so years and are looking for more economical solutions to their requirements for modern living, building big is causing big problems. In renovating our Raised Ranch, we have always felt that our house basically suits our needs, but we want “a little more”. We have also tended to back away from plans that were too big (the Colonial idea) or too wasteful and redundant (the first plan we scrapped).

As noted in an earlier post, we have heard talk of homeowners eliminating formal living rooms and/or dining rooms in their renovation plans in favor of more open, less conventional floor plans. It occurred to us that while we like the idea of a formal dining room, in our current setup the dining room table serves as a repository for all of the junk we accumulate, be it mail, old homework, notices, and anything else that does not fit on the refrigerator (another repository!). Unfortunately, given the casual nature of our home, we have little use for this table except when entertaining. Our goal in renovating and adding on is to create spaces that will fill our needs. We need room for a piano; we need comfortable seating areas; we need a place to sit and have a meal with friends. But do we really need a formal dining room? At this point, the arrow is pointing to “no”.

Here is how we have changed our plan, to reduce costs and create some efficiencies. We will add a large room to the back of the house – somewhere in the neighborhood of 15’ x 25’. The room will be a family room with a formal dining table and hutch at one end. When I say formal, please take it with a grain of salt. There will be no Queen Anne highboy or anything like that. At most, we will invest in a modest set from Ethan Allen with simple lines, possibly in the Mission style. It will be a large room that flows into the kitchen, perfect for family living and entertaining. Instead of a table in the kitchen, we will use that space for a powder room, and create a breakfast bar for casual family meals. The living room will stay the same, and the hall bath will belong to the children. The only other change will be removal of the California-style closets in our bedroom to create a pocket for the bed with recessed reading lights above. This will add two feet to the Master Bedroom, making it 13 ½’ x 13’ – not huge, but certainly respectable. Of course, a few window changes and an added door to the deck from the MBR will bring in more light and hopefully create a sense of greater space as well.

As we tweak this plan, we feel increasingly confident that it will satisfy our family’s needs while staying within a manageable budget. We have seen and heard of many examples where people simply over-improved or over-built their homes, and since we plan to stay here for a long time, it is imperative that we get it right the first time. Building too big will have economic consequences (taxes, heating, cooling) that may price us out of our home as we approach our golden years. So for now, we are jumping on the Not So Big bandwagon, and keeping it as simple as possible.

I Digress A Moment to Mount the Soapbox

It is getting more and more difficult to contain my animosity toward Wall Street these days. I have always had a cynical view, colored mostly by my experience living in a town that has become a haven for financial executives, but the anecdotal evidence of Wall Street’s excesses and exploits is now being outrun by the hard evidence outlined daily in the press. The latest news is that Goldman Sachs (“The Evil Empire”?) has been slapped with a civil lawsuit by the SEC regarding its alleged defrauding of investors who partook of their offering of synthetic Collateralized Debt Obligations. Apparently Goldman neglected to inform investors that John Paulson, a billionaire hedge fund manager, had paid $15 million to Goldman in exchange for the investment bank creating a CDO for him to then bet against. Paulson made $1 billion betting that people would lose their homes. Nice!

These sorts of manipulations are nothing new. In fact, for some on Wall Street, exploitative bets are business as usual. While there is no doubt (well, maybe a little to the truly cynical) that the majority of professionals in the financial industry are honest, hard-working people, we can no longer look past the unethical practices of the top players who effectively control the market. It is more clear than ever that top financial executives play with Monopoly money, and the payouts are incredibly inflated. Do people on Wall Street work hard? Sure, but so do lots of other people who have to fight for a wage. I believe in capitalism, but I also believe in ethics, and treating people with respect and kindness. Making money by betting that someone will lose their home is a dirty business. It’s not illegal, but it’s still wrong. An article I read included a laundry list of questionable activities and deals carried out by Goldman over the past few years, none of which were illegal but all of which were damaging to honest people like investors and homeowners. One has to wonder what kind of person finds excitement in betting that others will fail. What next? Shall we start wagering on people’s jobs, and whether or not they will be able to continue to put food on their families’ tables? The example is extreme, of course, but not totally out of line.

Hopefully the Federal Government can find ways to protect investors, either through existing laws or through new laws drafted to address the problems caused by derivative securities. Since the 1930’s, in the wake of the Great Depression, our government has been a champion of homeownership. As we emerge from our latest recession, let’s see if modern leaders can live up to (or exceed) the legacy of the those who went before them.

New Neighbor

My dog Lucy and I (she’s a 14 ½ year-old beagle) came face to face with a coyote this morning, right in our own front yard. The coyote, which was the size of a large German Shepherd, stopped in its tracks, looked at us for two seconds, and continued on its way. I went running into my house like a crazed lunatic, dragging poor Lucy behind me. The truth is, coyotes pose very little (if any) threat to humans. However, there have been many coyote sightings in our small town of late, and even an incident in which a small white poodle was killed by a coyote one evening. In fact, this is the third time I have seen a coyote on my street in the five years I have lived here. When I called the police to report it, they told me what I already knew: that coyotes have been squeezed out of their homes by housing developments and they are just wild animals looking for places to live. This ties in well to a discussion about the suburban movement that my husband and I had en route to visit friends in Philadelphia this weekend.

In researching the post-World War II housing boom, I have found that suburbanization has had a tremendous impact on American society, and lays claim to some important aspects of our history. Prior to World War II, suburban areas existed mostly for the wealthy – those who could afford to purchase land, live in single-family homes, and pay for transportation to the nearby city. After World War II, as access to cars became more widespread, more land became available for development. Builders no longer had to focus on tracts that were within walking distance of streetcars. As more land became available, prices became more affordable. Banks also opened up their lending policies, and the dream of suburban life became irresistible to many middle class families. Over the years, suburbanization has been strongly condemned, blamed for sucking the middle class out of the cities and draining urban areas of valuable people and resources. The suburbs provided an escape for those middle class people, however, and it’s hard to fault them for wanting to retreat from the traffic, noise, crowds and often filth of the cities in favor of the bucolic landscape of the suburbs. Home ownership became a signpost of achieving the American Dream. It continues to be a goal for most Americans.

While many historians and architects still find post-World War II housing to be without purpose or significance, it is important to think about how the change in housing styles may have represented social changes in American society. These homes were being built for middle class working families. There was no requirement for maids’ quarters, for example, or distinct public and private sections of the home. In a Colonial style house, there is no flow between the sleeping quarters (upstairs) and the living areas (ground floor). Many Colonial homes (even small ones) had two staircases – a grand staircase off the foyer and a hidden “back staircase” between the kitchen and upstairs. These elements would allow for a more traditional, perhaps dignified reception of guests. While the Split-Level and its brethren were endowed with formal living rooms, their flow into the dining and kitchen areas made them less stuffy than their parlor predecessors. I hear talk, lately, of people eliminating formal living rooms and/or dining rooms altogether to make the spaces less formal and flow into each other more easily. It is possible that middle class families, while desiring more elegance in the exterior appearance of their homes, are recognizing that less conformity with traditional designs inside their homes is more conducive to comfortable modern living.

Interestingly, as transportation has continued to improve, and as corporations have found their own havens in the suburbs, even larger more remote tracts of land, such as former farms and forests, have given way to housing development. Whereas the suburban development of the early-to mid-20th century seemed to have been driven by a desire to replicate (on a smaller scale) the goods and services one could find in the City, while also enjoying individual home ownership, the new exurban development shows that the housing comes first, and the strip mall follows. People are willing to lengthen their commute time significantly in order to be able to afford the largest house possible. I have seen news segments about people in the Poconos who ride a bus two hours (or more) each way to work in New York City so they can have their own huge house. I have also, in my travels, witnessed many exurban developments that look like the houses were literally plopped down on their lots by aliens. All, or most, of the trees are gone, replaced by large plastic-clad behemoths.

Thanks to Toll Brothers and their compatriots, these McMansions have cropped up around most major cities. In fact, the McMansion movement of the past 20 or so years is currently bearing the brunt of public architectural outrage that used to be reserved for Split-Levels and the like. Many people reject Split-Levels and Raised Ranches as cookie-cutter homes that represent the worst aspects of our manufactured society. The rage against McMansions incorporates this same rejection but also has to do with the physical affront on our senses that these houses impose. Because of their monstrous size on small plots of land, they actually encroach on our ability to enjoy our own space. If we think of the suburbs as an escape from the City to a more bucolic, greener landscape, houses that then reduce the greenery of that landscape can be seen as a threat. Even the coyotes appear to be moving on.

To Build A...Wall

Now that we have settled on an interior design, the new challenge will be to create curb appeal on the exterior of the house. But let’s face it – the economy is still in the toilet, and we are in no position to break ground on a project. The desire to improve our house still consumes me, however, so for now I am moving on to greener pastures. Or in my case, greener projects. This past weekend was an exceptionally pleasant one weather-wise, and the outdoors beckoned until we all ended up out back – the girls playing, the dog sniffing, and me, well, I found a little corner of the backyard that needed some TLC.

As I have mentioned before, the neighbor behind us is the proud owner of a gigantic rock formation that provides a beautiful natural buffer between our properties. On the actual property line, many of the rocks that were uncovered when digging our foundation have been strewn about, but mostly in the two back corners. The back right corner is home to most of the larger boulders, whereas the back left corner has two boulders and a messy heap of smaller stones of various sizes. At least, it HAD a messy heap until we set to work transforming it. Now, it has a beautiful little wall which will soon provide the backdrop for a lovely flower garden!

I found myself back there perusing the scene while my daughters played by the wild cherry tree that currently serves as their “Nature Clubhouse”. My original intent was to create a compost pile that would not be visible from our house. Last summer I had begun to throw vegetable and fruit waste behind the rock heap, just to “see what would happen”. Nothing really happened, which I saw as a good sign. No animals came, other than a deer or two to nibble at some cauliflower. I thought this year I would dig a deeper hole and see if I could actually derive some benefit, such as soil for plantings. As I began to pull out the vines (of which there were MANY), I noticed a significant number of interesting rocks that were easily moved. Unfortunately, in the process of removing these rocks I disturbed quite a plethora of insect homes, but my daughters eagerly transported many of the refugees to new homes around the yard. Whether or not the bugs were appreciative of this effort, we’ll never know. I did, however, witness a fair amount of little girl screaming (some joyous, some in disgust), which helped me to understand that the girls were having a lot of fun with this new responsibility. All of a sudden, after about half an hour of work, I had a huge pile of rocks!

Just as I was finishing the clean-up portion of this project, Hubby returned from his “errands” (getting coffee, looking at cars, stopping by Home Depot, etc.) and immediately joined the team. After donning his work gloves, he went right to work moving some of the larger stones into support positions. We spent the next ten minutes or so matching up rocks to pile on top of each other until we had exhausted our supply. It was too early in the season to plant anything, but we will be at Home Depot soon to find flowers for our newly minted garden. Friends came over Saturday evening and admired our handiwork. We are pleased with the results, and encouraged to know that sprucing up our property can be an interesting family activity that costs $0!

Back on Earth...

As we settled into Autumn last year, $10,000 poorer due to architect fees, we decided to “take a break” from the planning process, and we advised our architect as such. We were on board with the Colonial idea, but it made no sense to make revisions to the plan until a time when we would be closer to realizing the project. With a $400K - $500K price tag, that would not happen for at least a few years. Hubby’s business, which normally relies on a constant pipeline of business, was finally feeling the effects of the past year’s economic crisis. I had accepted a job on a writing project, but had no idea whether or not it would lead to further employment. Financially, we were up in the air, and the only thing we could afford to buy was time.

Around January, after the hustle and bustle of Christmas had waned, we settled back on terra firma emotionally and began to realize that our Colonial dream might really be a “pipe dream”. Practical to a fault, Hubby and I both began to have doubts about converting our home to a colonial. Aside from the fact that all of the work we had accomplished thus far would be destroyed, it suddenly dawned on us that we would be turning our cookie-cutter Raised Ranch into a cookie-cutter Center Hall Colonial, with a dining room to the left, a living room to the right, and a kitchen and family room along the back of the house. We would simply be adding another layer to our existing box. “What is so exciting about that?” I thought. It certainly would not be interesting enough to warrant the additional mortgage burden. We looked back at our plan to add onto the back of the house and realized that we could create a much more unique home (for much less money!) by modifying this plan.

The changes we came up with were as follows: The living room would remain the same; the kitchen and dining room would be combined to create a large, eat-in kitchen; an addition of approximately 12 feet (depth) behind the kitchen and hall bath would accommodate a family room and dining room. On the other side of the house, the hall bath would become a powder room, the two family bedrooms would remain the same, and a full bath would be added at the end of the hall, between the family bedroom and master. The master bedroom would gain a walk-in closet and get bumped out approximately six feet. The master bath would lose its shower to the walk-in closet but take over the bathtub from the original hall bath to create a new walk-in shower. A deck would be built that could be accessed from both sides of the house. Downstairs, we would create a fourth bedroom, full bath, laundry room and rec room.

In the end, we would create a four bedroom, three and a half bath house, with a powder room in the correct spot, a formal dining room, lovely kitchen and attached family room, master suite and deck. We would preserve our vista and not create as much redundant space downstairs. We would also have a “real” laundry room instead of sharing space with our utility room. The mouldings, archways, railings and solid core doors would be preserved as well, and the furnace could be tweaked to accommodate the additional space. While we had believed that we could do anything we wanted to our house, in the end, our practicality told us we should not make it into something it wasn’t. Not wanting to be “posers”, we would accept our house for its shortcomings as well as its advantages, and try to allow it to evolve into its highest and best use (for the least amount of cash!).

Of course, not long after we came to this conclusion, a neighbor’s Colonial went to market. This home, one of the largest on the block, had been renovated top-to-bottom by our architect, Paul. From all accounts (I have never been inside), every detail is beautiful, perfect, and magnificently finished. The price tag was $1,995,000, which seemed steep considering that the last two sales on the street were $1,385,000 one year ago for a similar size house renovated ten years ago, and $875,000 for a Raised Ranch half the size. Days later, we were informed that the house went to sealed bids with five bidders and sold for over the asking price. As you can imagine, in my mind I simply HAD to revisit the idea of making our house into a Colonial. As far as investment value, it would be a slam dunk, even if it cost $700K. However, given that we would still have to PAY for that $700K, it would not be possible. We did conclude, however, that there would be only two options for our house: knock it down and start from scratch to build a real Colonial with a basement, or add onto it as a Raised Ranch. As far as we are concerned, the "Colonial Conversion” project is off the table.

Not-So-Divinyl

As I have discussed in earlier entries, Raised Ranches are generally disliked for their lack of curb appeal. They are boring boxes with windows. They lack character. What can be done about this? Adding texture is one way to enhance the exterior appearance of a Raised Ranch. Texture is, in my mind, one of the most important components of house and home design. It can help to minimize the boxiness – from Raised Ranch to Colonial and beyond. It creates a multi-sensory experience for the viewer. Our appreciation of style and beauty is greatly affected by both the tactile and visual effects of texture, particularly as they relate to house design. I would encourage anyone looking to improve their Raised Ranch to consider only those roofing and siding materials that will increase the amount of texture on the exterior of the building.

Siding is an immensely important element in the look and feel of a house. It should not be an afterthought – its effect on the appearance of the home is profound, perhaps even more so than the design itself. Certainly, it can be used to mask "blah" design flaws and inadequacies. Traditionally, homes in the United States have been sided with wood, stucco, stone, brick, or a combination thereof. These elements can determine how light is reflected and influence our natural desire to touch. Contrasting textures, such as wood with stone or brick, can distract the eye from the otherwise plain lines of many house designs. The post-World War II era brought us cookie cutter houses and aluminum siding, which would be cheaper (over the long-term) and more durable than the previously mentioned products. Applying this low-maintenance siding in cascading layers would mimic the look of wood clapboard with a much longer expected lifespan. Aluminum eventually gave way to vinyl, a cheaper alternative with similar durable qualities yet an even less natural look. From a distance, it is not always possible to distinguish between these types of siding and wood clapboard, although I would argue that clapboard absorbs light in a way that plastic or metal could never achieve, particularly as it wears over time.

About ten years ago, a neighbor of ours chose to re-clad his Raised Ranch in – gasp – vinyl, a choice I would never recommend. It now looks like a glorified mobile home. While there is nothing wrong with mobile homes, they do not generally belong in million dollar neighborhoods. Vinyl siding is also perfectly acceptable, but should be used for houses that already have texture, angles, and other ways of distracting the eye. Our next door neighbor announced last summer that he would be replacing his cedar shakes with new siding. We prepared for the worst (his brother was the vinyl offender down the street). As it turned out, yes, he would use vinyl, but he chose a staggered style, which was the original arrangement of shingles on all of the Raised Ranches in the neighborhood (see photo - Pink Floyd's got nothin' on me and by bedroom window view!!!). With vinyl shutters to boot, it still looks overly uniform and lacks a certain element of spontaneity in the way light is absorbed and reflected, but it is vastly more bearable than the “mobile home wanna be” down the street.