RestoringArtsandCraftsHome – Whoopsie Piggle

I met 88-year-old Herman Dreisbach twice in 2003 before purchasing the house his uncle built in 1909 and gifted to him in 1946. Herman and his wife, Ruth, raised their two children in the home, the only one in which the couple lived as Ruth died in 2002. As regular readers know, I raised my three eldest sons in what I call Dreisbach House and am now raising my youngest two children next door in Cressler House, named after Claire Cressler, who lived in his home for six decades with his wife, Gloria. Claire was my neighbor and frequent dinner guest until his death in 2007. Both homes feel imbued by the love of the couples who lived in them.

For 11 years, I rented out Dreisbach House, which paid for both mortgages. When my last tenants moved out, I was in a relationship with the man I fell in love with at 17. Though external forces pulled us apart in 1983, we never lost contact. For four decades and many moves across the country, I kept a box of his letters because in a back pocket of my heart I believed we would one day reunite. And so we did in the spring of 2021. After 2 1/2 years of a long-distance romance, he moved to Akron. Together we decided to restore Dreisbach House beyond its former glory and live there for the rest of our days. Instead of finding new tenants, we began renovations.

By necessity, windows went first. While most of the main floor windows are original, several decades ago the Dreisbachs replaced the second floor and kitchen windows with vinyl ones, which had warped with age. Two remained permanently closed while one was stuck 4 inches open and had to be covered with wood and plastic. We replaced them with Andersen wooden windows that have color-matched exterior aluminum cladding in oxblood red, the exterior color of the windows in 1909. We discovered this when layers of white paint were scraped off the existing original windows. That, along with their non-standard sizes, caused the manufacture to take more than 16 weeks.

The next step was to begin the great undoing of Herman Dreisbach’s 1950s improvements of the bedrooms. I assume Dreisbach’s goal was to cover the plaster walls, which now and again form bubbles and cracks, and situate outlets. First he mounted heavy-gauge wire atop the 10″ baseboards. Then he installed drywall, with holes strategically placed for outlets to connect to the wire, over the walls and baseboards. Not exactly up to code, but it worked for 70 years without incident.

Last spring, contractors removed the drywall, revealing the original baseboards and window frames, which also had been covered, all of which needed repaired or replaced. In one bedroom I had a sizable hole cut into the wall of a closet that extended several feet over the stairwell so as to create a sitting nook.

Then, when the project was at the point where everything was undone, my relationship went topsy-turvy, as someone less besotted might have predicted. There will never be a love in my life greater than that for my children. The remorse for what my 15-year-old son was exposed to will stay with me all my days. But he also witnessed my swift and irrevocable response.

Where the brain accepts hard truths, the heart can be slow to follow. The loss of a dream I thought had come true pushed me into an unrelenting grief that too often doubled me over with sobs from the bottom of my gut, made me shake palsy-like and weep in public for no apparent reason. The only other time I felt as hollowed out was after the death of my grandmother. If you’ve run into me in the past year and what I said made little sense, you now know why.

But grief is not depression. I carry on, busily working on projects I had set aside for three years. Most importantly, I am held by the loving support of family and friends. My eldest sons have taken monthly turns traveling home to spend weekends with me, while faraway friends schedule calls to talk for as long as I need. Here in Akron, my friends Bruce and Jim share meals with me most weeks as they patiently guide me through this difficult passage.

Because it was in the middle of a renovation when I was thrown a curveball, I found myself with a house that could not generate revenue. My income last year was almost $20k, so I had to get creative. I took out $17,000 on two credit cards at zero percent interest for 18 months and began to put the beautiful Dreisbach House, and my life, back together. I’m eager to share some results in the weeks ahead.

This was first published in the Akron Beacon Journal on Sunday, March 2, 2025.

Architectural and interior styles change over time and as they do, people often change their spaces accordingly. My next-door neighbors’ home was built at the turn of the last century by the family that owned Akron Brewing Co. Sometime in the mid-20th century, the kitchen’s wooden cupboards were removed and replaced with “modern” stainless steel ones.

Luckily, an original section of the bottom cupboards remained on the back porch, which my neighbors, having removed all the metal ones, painstakingly restored and integrated into their new kitchen, creating a pleasing mix of old and new.

My two side-by-side homes on the near westside of Akron were treated very differently by the families that lived in them for over 60 years. None of the original decorative woodwork remains in Cressler House, where I live. I have a photo of Claire Cressler and his wife, Gloria, gleefully attacking with crow bars the oak columns that had been near the front door.

Next door, at Dreisbach House, Herman and Ruth Dreisbach were more surgical when remodeling. Perhaps they appreciated its Arts and Crafts style, or maybe it was because they had been gifted the home by Herman’s uncle, Herman Zimmerly, who built the house in 1909. But they, too, looked to modernized their house with the changes they made.

The Dreisbach House, circa 1915. — Dreisbach House, circa 1910, the year after it was built. *Holly Christensen*

Between 1905 and 1915, several houses were built on my street with either golden or dun-colored brick, all held together with red mortar. Dreisbach House has the dun brick (the Akron Brewery home is of the golden brick). Large blocks of yellowish sandstone form the foundation while substantial pieces of pinkish limestone were used for the exterior window sills and lintels.

The windows in the living room, dining room, stairway landing and third floor of Dreisbach House are the original (and never painted) oak sash windows, with pulleys and weights to hold opened windows in place. The glass is leaded, creating a charmingly warbled view of the outdoors, and the interior brass handles have decorative flourishes.

In probably the 1980s, the Dreisbachs had the kitchen and all the bedroom windows replaced with white vinyl ones. They painted the exterior of the remaining original windows white to match the vinyl ones. Presumably that is also when they replaced the roof’s wooden soffits and fascia with white aluminum, which they also used to cover all exterior wooden features. And finally, they enclosed the front porch using louvered windows with, you guessed it, white frames.

The Dreisbach house in 2011. — Dreisbach House in 2011.

A conundrum of owning a historical home is while some upgrades make the home more efficient and even more comfortable, it doesn’t necessarily mean they look right. The many white exterior features make the dun-colored brick look washed out.

Two years ago, my home contractor begin scraping the white paint, which clearly contained lead, off the original windows. Underneath was the color the windows had undoubtedly been painted at construction: a brownish red, often referred to as “oxblood.” Not only does it accentuate the reddish mortar, it also gives a much-needed richness to the brick.

New kitchen windows at Holly Christensen's house restore the "oxblood" trim, giving a much-needed richness to the brick. — The new windows restore the “oxblood” trim, giving a much-needed richness to the brick.

Meanwhile, the decades-old vinyl replacement windows had become so warped, they could only be opened and closed by a strong man with tools. The replacement windows needed replaced. This was the moment I decided that, with the mortgage nearly paid off, I would pay more for windows that honor the original Arts and Crafts design of the home.

Wooden Anderson Windows, baby, that’s what I’m talking about. The interior of the windows were factory stained to match the original frames. The exterior of the wooden windows, however, are clad in aluminum and installed with an aluminum casing, both of which can (for an upcharge, of course) be color matched.

As to finding contractors for a variety of jobs outside the scope of my home contractor, I use the social media site Nextdoor. When you join, you are connected to other Nextdoor members who live in your area. Ask people for a good painter, concrete company, housecleaner and, yes, window installer, and you will get several responses from satisfied customers. That’s how I found Jim Sutcliffe, owner of Windows, Doors and More, whose work I highly recommend.

Sutcliffe gave a chip paint from one of the original windows to Anderson Windows, who uses Sherwin Williams for color matching. The results are exterior window sashes in Sherwin Williams Manhattan Brown surrounded by casings of standard antique bronze.

The difference color can make is remarkable. I replaced 11 windows and whenever I look across the driveway from Cressler House at Dreisbach Houses new windows, I feel a small trill of satisfaction. It’s a feeling I hope to have over and again as this renovation continues.

This was first published in the Akron Beacon Journal on Sunday, March 3, 2024.