THE DREADED L-WORD: LEAKS

If your roof leaks,  don't panic and assume you need a
whole new roof. Look for common problems like this
leaky plumbing vent jack. It could be the difference
between a repair costing ten bucks, or ten thousand bucks. 

Nothing strikes fear into a homeowner like the dreaded L-word: Leaks. But the fact is, every house has leaks of some kind. It’s just that they’re usually so minor that we aren’t aware of them. 

The most common way for water to enter a house is, of course, through roof leaks. But as I’ve noted many times, it’s almost never the roof material itself that’s leaking. Rather, water usually enters wherever the roof is penetrated—at vent pipes, flues, chimneys, and at junctures between roofs and walls. Hence, replacing your whole roof to solve a few minor leaks is usually a colossal waste of money. Most small leaks can be repaired just as effectively with a three-dollar tube of calk.

Attic louvers—in fact, just about
any kind of louver—will leak under
 conditions of strong wind and rain.
Don't sweat it. A few drops of water
won't do much harm in the long run.

But roof leaks aren’t the only way water can get into your home. Here are some other favored routes for the dreaded L-word:

•  Many skylight “leaks” come from water vapor trapped inside the house, not from rain. When the weather gets cold enough, vapor from cooking, showers, and the like can condense on the underside of a skylight bubble and drip down. For this reason, modern skylights have an integral condensate gutter around the inside edge to catch the “leak” before it hits your floor. From there it either drains out onto the roof through a little weep hole, or simply evaporates when the weather warms up.

•  Louvers, such as those used to ventilate attics and crawlspaces, will often leak a little during any rainstorm that’s combined with a good strong wind. It’s normal, and there’s not much you can do about it. The small amount of water that enters seldom does any real harm, and quickly evaporates.

Close up view of composite drainage sheet system. The
knobbed sheet allows water to drain away easily.
The filter fabric blanket keeps soil out of the passages.

• Basement or crawlspace leaks are more difficult to solve, and can do a lot more damage than any of the foregoing. Usually, these leaks come from water-saturated soil that’s in contact with the basement wall, creating  hydrostatic pressure and making the wall act essentially like a dam. The solution in most cases is simply to offer the water an easier exit than being forced through the wall itself. 

One common solution involves excavating along the outside surface of the leaking wall and sealing it with a moisture-resistant material such as bentonite clay; then putting a perforated drain line in the bottom of the trench and leading it to an appropriate outlet; and finally backfilling the trench with gravel and placing a few inches of soil on top. Then, when the soil becomes saturated, the water will migrate via the path of least resistance: through the gravel and into the perforated drain pipe, rather than through the less permeable wall. 

In lieu of gravel, another approach is to use composite drainage sheet systems such as Delta Drain, Miradrain, or Hydroduct. All of these come in rolls, are relatively lightweight, and are installed directly against the basement wall. They all use some form of knobbed plastic sheet that creates a space in which water can easily drain away. A filter fabric adhered to the outside face of the drainage sheet prevents dirt from clogging the drainage passages.

If you have galvanized steel pipes such as these
in your house, leaks are a foregone conclusion.
Replace them if you get the chance.

•  Plumbing leaks are—mercifully—a fairly rare source of unwanted water. They can arise from either drain or supply piping and can be a real bear to fix, since the pipes are usually hidden inside floors and walls. If you have old-fashioned galvanized steel plumbing, eventual leaks are almost a given, so you may want to consider re-plumbing your whole house with a more durable material such as copper.

The joints of old-style bell-and-spigot cast iron drainage pipe can leak too on occasion, but unless you’re a whiz with oakum and rammed lead wool—and who isn't these days?—they’re hardly worth repairing with the original materials. Usually, the simplest course is to replace the offending area with a new section of no-hub cast iron or, if your local codes allow them, with ABS or PVC drainage pipe.

YOU CAN'T BEAT COPPER

Replica of the copper axe carried by Otzi the Iceman, who
lived between 3400 and 3100 BCE.  He was discovered
in the Otztal Alps on the border of Austria and Italy in
1991. 

Only a handful of building materials can claim to have been in use for thousands of years:  wood, stone, brick.  And perhaps most remarkable of all, copper.

Copper was one of the first metals known to man, and was in use as early as the fifth century BCE.  Most ancient copper was mined on the island of Cyprus—hence its name.  Alloyed with tin, copper formed the prize metal of the Bronze Age, and thereby played a crucial role in the ascent of man.

As a building material, copper’s durability is legendary as well. The most important monuments of Baroque architecture were fitted with copper roofs and gutters, many of which are still in service after centuries. One reason for copper’s longevity is that, over years of exposure, it forms a protective oxide “skin” that protects the metal below and produces the familiar blue-green patina known as verdigris.

Copper-roofed spire of the Baroque
Church of St. Nicholas, Prague,
begun in 1703.

This brings up copper’s other great strength: its timeless beauty. Unlike chromium and other perishable metals, whose appeal is based on their initial luster, copper grows more attractive the more weathered it becomes. In fact, mellow, aged copper is actually more prized than the spanking-new variety—so much so that impatient folks are even willing to pay a “patinator” to artificially hurry up the process.

Nowadays, copper’s high first cost, as well as its unstable market price, makes many people reluctant to use it in their projects. But first cost isn’t the only consideration when specifying materials, or we’d all have plastic gutters and tarpaper roofs. Durability and appearance both need to be factored into material choices. And if long life and beauty are your main concern, copper is just plain unbeatable. Here are a few places to consider using it:   

Copper pipe—a familiar, reliable,
and affordable building material.

•  Supply and waste piping is probably the most familiar use of copper in construction, and remains unchallenged for durability. Moreover, copper piping is affordable to all but the very tightest budgets.  

•  Copper gutters (starting at around $25 per lineal foot installed) are far more durable than galvanized sheet metal, and require no painting—they’re simply allowed to weather to a handsome patina. As with all uses of copper in construction, only compatible fasteners can be used to attach copper gutters, since fasteners of dissimilar metals can create electrolysis problems that’ll lead to corrosion. This will lead to failure of the fastener, not the copper.

Detail of copper roof eave/gutter,
Frank Lloyd Wright's Robie House
in Oak Park, Illinois (1909).

•  Copper roofing (around $15 per square foot) is generally considered the premium choice for durability and appearance.  The parallel ribs or “standing seams” used to join the individual sheets of copper give this roof its characteristic appearance, as well as providing the ultimate in watertightness.  

•  Copper lighting fixtures achieve a beautiful patina just about the time most plated fixtures start getting pitted and ugly. If you can’t find a fixture that suits you, however, consider having one custom-fabricated. Practically any design that can be formed from galvanized sheet metal can also be fabricated in copper, and the price is often competitive with store-bought fixtures.

•  Lastly, a bit of philosophical advice:  The building materials industry is rife with wannabe materials and unproven claims of durability. When it comes right down to it, though, the only rock-solid evidence of worth is how a material performs over time.  Say, oh, about two thousand years? 

BEWARE THE DREADED "OVER-RESTORATION"

A '55 Studebaker President just like mine—
except this one runs.

When I was a pimple-faced teenager, I bought a 1955 Studebaker with the aim of restoring it. I'm fifty-eight now and my complexion is a little better, but I'm still working on that same Studebaker.  

Many times over the years I've been approached by car restorers who want me to join some auto club or other, but I always demur. Most of these guys are just too fanatical. For example, it’s routine for restorers to insist on tires made from the original molds, as well as hoses, belts, and batteries marked exactly like the originals. Nowadays, restorers will even painstakingly duplicate the carelessly-scrawled inspection marks that were chalked on the engines during assembly. Why stop there? Why not insist on 1955 air in the tires, or 1955 oil in the crankcase?

Her'e a "correct" bungalow kitchen:
Is this really what you're after?

Worse yet, cars restored to these ultra-exacting standards represent such a huge investment that their owners are usually afraid to take them on the road. Rather than being driven as they were intended, they end up languishing in a garage or a museum.  

Car restorers aren’t the only ones to go overboard, however. I see many people with older homes—be they Victorians, bungalows, or mid-century Ranchers—getting caught up in the same sort of mania for authenticity. They slavishly outfit their homes in period furniture and fixtures, no doubt goaded by well-meaning magazines that encourage this sort of thing. One recent article, for example, showcased a restored bungalow kitchen that was correct right down to the intrusive freestanding range and dreadful circulation. It was an authentic bungalow kitchen, all right—clumsy and impractical. 

Don't hesitate to upgrade old infrastructure, such as this
asbestos-laden and extremely inefficient old
gravity furnace. Antique technology is fascinating to look at,
but not much fun to live with.

To be sure, restoring a house to prime condition is an admirable undertaking, and I’m generally the first person to say so. But just as a car is made to be driven, a house is built to be lived in, not just looked at. Hence, putting up with shadowy lighting, a cramped bathroom, or a Luddite kitchen is a pointless sacrifice.  

Fortunately, it’s fairly obvious when to abandon the tiresome constraints of “correct” restoration. So unless you’re aiming to turn your house into a museum, don’t fret over the occasional anachronism.  

Gorgeous—but I bet you wouldn't
want to hear "Back in Black" on it.

Besides, in most cases, you’ll do just fine to adapt certain parts of your home to modern requirements. Few reasonable people are willing to dispense with contemporary products such as dishwashers, microwave ovens or energy-efficient refrigerators, and while these items simply don’t fit into “authentic” kitchens, there’s little to be gained by trying to hide them with clumsy disguises such as cabinet door overlays. Just call a spade a spade, and be frank about including the modern stuff along with the authentic.    

The golden rule is: Respect your home’s architecture, but don’t be straitjacketed by the compulsion to make everything look “period”.  Feel free to modernize when it comes to functional necessities such as appliances, plumbing, wiring, or heating.

Times change, and the ability to change with them is what distinguishes a living, breathing home from a museum.  

THE $20,000 BATH: And Why You Should Be Glad To Get It That Cheap

Here's the tub your'e not getting: Made by
Arcaro-Martini of Italy, it's plated with 24 karat gold
and will run you about $100,000.

Twenty thousand dollars. That’s the minimum figure many contractors and architects cite for the cost of a major bathroom remodel these days, or for a new bathroom included as part of a larger addition.

Whenever my clients hear this number, however, they guffaw and make wisecracks like, “Hey—I don’t want a gold-plated bathtub or anything.”

Don't worry—you’re not getting one.

One reason bathrooms are so expensive (second only to kitchens) is that they contain a lot of plumbing, mechanical, and electrical work concentrated in a small area. They also require a range of relatively expensive finish materials and cabinetry, as well as some often-pricey hardware such as towel bars and the like.

When I say you can spend any amount of money you want
on a toilet, I'm not kidding. Here's one for those
incurable romantics among you.

And of course there are the attendant installation costs of these items—generally, about twice the cost of the material. So while the possible cost range for bathrooms is wide, $10,000 is not an exorbitant figure, even for a run-of-the-mill bath. A look at some of the costs peculiar to bathrooms may help put things in perspective:

•  Plumbing materials. While the cost of so-called “rough” plumbing materials—piping, hangers, and the like—is comparatively modest, the cost of installing them isn’t. In my neck of the wood (the San Francisco Bay Area, plumbers charge anywhere from $80 to $130 per hour or more for labor. You might get away with less where you live, but it will still put a dent in your wallet.

A little more in line with most people's budgets,
fifty bucks will still get you this standard plastic
 lavatory faucet. Sorry, no German name on this one.

You can also spend as much as you like on finish plumbing items such as fixtures and fittings. The cost of a toilet, for example, can run from $79 for a noisy piece of junk, to several thousand dollars for a top-of-the-line "signature" job designed by an architect who, presumably, had too much time on his hands. Somewhere in between lie simple but well-made models, though seldom for less than $300. Throw in a seat (around $35), a wax gasket ($4), plumber’s putty ($4), a shutoff valve ($10) and connecting riser ($5), and you’re already coming up on four hundred dollars.

Lavatory sinks, showers, and tubs all have similarly wide price ranges, as well as much higher fitting costs. Lavatory faucets, for example, can run from around $50 for dime-store grade models made of plastic, all the way up to $1,000 and more for ultra-chic creations. Add a German name, and you can add another $200 to the price. And don’t forget:  Labor, labor, labor.

Towel bars can run anywhere from $15 bargain bin models
to Baroque creations such as this one,
which comes in just under two hundred bucks.

• Cabinetwork also soaks up money in a hurry. Costs vary wildly, but better-quality brands of base cabinet are seldom below  $200 per lineal foot, and can go up steeply from there. Installation labor is additional, of course. Lavatory mirrors can set you back as well. Plain old 1/4" mirror glass with a deburred edge will cost you about $6-8 per square foot installed. Polishing, beveling, drilling or other special work will cost substantially more.

•  Finish materials.  The coup de grace for most bathroom budgets comes from finish items such as flooring, countertops and shower surrounds. These costs tend to sneak up on you near the end of the project, just when you thought you were still solvent. Countertops can range from a low of around $15 per square foot for for plastic laminate, to well over $300 per square foot for a custom concrete job. Tile is so wide-ranging in price that, basically, you could spend any amount you wanted on it. And whether you go cheap or fancy on the material, however, the installation is still going to cost at least five bucks a square foot.

•  Lastly, don’t overlook the cost of towel bars, toilet paper holders, soap dishes, and the like. Though they seem like nickel-and-dime items, they add up quickly. A basic, piece-of-junk towel ring, for example, starts at around $20, and if you want anything with a semblance of quality, the price will go up—way up. Hence, if you haven’t been minding your budget, your towels may end up hanging on a nail.