Pittsfield is full of wonderful, old homes. We should know because over the last eight months or so we have been in many of them. This was made possible through the efforts of our long-suffering, ever patient and simply wonderful real estate agent, Kathy Waldheim. Call it an education, our own real estate Odyssey that led us both to a lesson in self-discovery.
Starting out on our search for a second home, we were sure we wanted a house out in the country, some place similar to what we already have in
Hillsdale, NY. You might rightfully ask why. So that Titus, our chocolate
Labrador, could roam with the deer and the antelope while Barbara could continue to kayak and I could, well, continue to live like Davy Crockett after hours.
So we looked in the surrounding suburbs of
Pittsfield. We quickly discovered that "suburbs" aren't really suburbs up here. There is the city; you cross an invisible line and bang, you are in the country or at least in another town like Dalton,
Hinsdale, Richmond or
Lenox. Most of these towns or villages resemble the covers of those Curry and Ives Christmas cards. Believe me folks, those quaint new England towns still exist complete with gingerbread Victorians and other
wondrous architecture.
We were like kids in a candy store, first
oohing over a mountainside home in Peru , then
ahhing over a lakeside cottage on Richmond Pond. We even considered a log cabin in Becket. All of which are at least a 30 minute commute from the office in
Pittsfield, but it was still shorter than the 50 minute drive we were making on a
daily basis.
Reality began to set in. the lakeside homes in our price range were not worth what the sellers were demanding. Essentially, we would be buying lake rights. Many recent buyers were simply tearing down the old homes and re-building. We couldn't afford that. So we then looked for property with ponds or close to lakes. We found a lot of modular and
prefab houses on 5-15 acres of land. We liked the land but not the houses.
After a few months of searching,we came to realize what you, my dear reader,
probably picked up on
immediately. Why in the world would we want to buy a second home so similar to the one we already owned, just in a different state? We realized that made no sense.
The initial idea behind the move was to make a first step into
simplifying our lives. Yes, we had finally admitted to ourselves after
years of struggle that we too were finally getting older. There might even come a day that snow shovelling or mowing the lawn might be an arduous chore. And yet all the houses and places we were looking at would surely add further complication to our lives. If we were looking to shorten our commute to work, to avoid battling the elements every winter, to move nearer not further from civilization then commuting and living in places like Peru, (where winters were even harsher than
Hillsdale),was not the answer.
At that point, we decided to reign in our net and focus
primarily within
Pittsfield's city limits.
At first, the biggest hurdle for us in making that decision was Titus. How would our country dog ever be able to handle city life? Titus on a leash, walking on pavements instead of bounding free along country roads, how cruel could we be to him?
Of course, since I am a money manager, the dollars and cents side of my brain was struggling mightily to bring us back to reality. It was lecturing me on how stupid it was to be making such a large economic decision based on what I perceived my dog would want! But, I admit, the emotional side of me (call it the Dog Whisperer Within) was winning despite all my financial acumen, until I realized Titus (and every other dog in the world) would actually love being in the city. What dog wouldn't want to live among tons of people, who would fawn over him, allow him to jump up on them and lick their faces? Just imagine: hundreds of
doggie rear ends to sniff, dozens of cool, new places to pee on and totally far-out sights, smells, noises and fabulous things to snarf up when we weren't looking and to keep him amused 24/7.
Once we had come to that awakening, we set out with a new mind-set. Feeling relief and a re-newed sense of confidence, we once again embarked on our journey. I suspect at about this time, Kathy our broker, was about to murder us.
It was only a question of time, effort and determination. There was the perfect house for us somewhere in
Pittsfield. Of course, it would have to have a big backyard for Titus (the Whisperer Returns) and it would need to be out of the way, on a quiet lane or tree- shrouded side street. We found there were plenty of houses like that. Both of us fell in love with the older homes. The multitude of styles available on just about every block is an architect's dream. Federal, Colonial, French Second Empire Revival, Gothic, Victorian, Arts and Crafts, Queen Anne and everything in between is available throughout the city.
We loved them all! The stately pillars, green lawns, heavy oak doors, gingerbread
porticoes and porches complete with swings straight out of 1930's
Bedford Falls, were a sight to dazzle and make one think of grandma's house and just-baked cookies. Inside, stately living rooms with mantled fireplaces, french doors and cupboard-filled kitchens with the
original beveled glass, brass fixtures and doorknobs all accented and trimmed with the meticulous carved woodwork of centuries long past. We strolled, studied and gaped looking upward at wonderful, molded ceilings, climbed dozens of dramatic staircases that lacked only the portraits of ancestors past to take us back 150 years. In late afternoons we poked in fabulous nooks and crannies, explored converted maid's rooms and attic lookouts, trod funky
black and white tiled bathrooms with those wonderful old bathtubs with clawed feet, it was a nostalgic journey through an
American factory town that had seen both the best and worst of times. How many times did I just run my hand along a particularly wonderful piece of molding and think of occupants long gone. Were they scholars, workers, veterans and if so what wars did they fight? Barbara would sometimes knock gently, feeling the solid oak of a door under her
knuckles and smile. Remember those Bed and Breakfasts Inns you visited in the Berkshires or Vermont? Here they are, a dozen of them, ripe for the picking, all we need do is find the right one.
The problem we encountered was that just about all of them needed work. In that one, the staircase was just perfect but the rooms were too small or
impractical but, with enough money and effort, it would be perfect.
That white Colonial we saw was on a quiet side street with beautiful maples
sheltering the sidewalks but the yard was atrocious, and what ever possessed them to convert that wonderful porch into a sun room from hell.
We though we found the perfect house on
Spadina Parkway, just two houses down from the mayor's house. It was "a
cream puff" according to the selling broker, and it was. The Manhattan-based elderly couple had poured all their love and money into that house over twenty-some years. It was their weekend abode and through the years they had massaged every detail of each room into a meticulously crafted monument to their taste and
artistic sense of interior design. They even had paintings in the laundry room! The back was a yard in name only. It was so formal that I felt I needed a tuxedo just to walk through this Louis XIV botanical garden. I could just see Titus, a mouth full of ripped up gardenias, digging holes under the statue of Dianna or swimming in the goldfish pond.
We actually made a bid for the house but the sellers made it so difficult to close that we walked away. Only afterward did we realize that by buying that house we were buying a sort of semi-museum and perpetual shrine to the former owners.
There was another home that we liked despite the $50,000 or so in
additional work that the home needed in order to insulate it, fix the ceilings and walls, rip out and restore the sun room and completely make over the yard. We bid on that one too but the owners wanted more than we were willing to pay. In neither case, were we at all broken hearted when our offers were turned down. That troubled us.
Normally, when you find the house that is perfect for you, price is no object. You fall in love and that's it. Despite combing through just about every h
ouse for sale in
Pittsfield, we were still looking and waiting for that special feeling. Neither of us could put our finger on it. I know that I was worried about what would go wrong with these old homes. The inspectors I talked to warned me that things would go wrong and the costs would escalate. Plumbing, electrical work, foundations, window frames, cellars , sewage, it was all up for replacement. It was simply a matter of when. True confession time: I have a mechanical
aptitude of about 2%. It is so bad that when i want to open the window, I ask Barbara how to do it. These daunting certainties of
future repair worried me. So did taking care of
lawns, backyards and crumbling sidewalks. I already had enough of that in
Hillsdale.
Barbara, I discovered, felt the same way.
Quite by accident, while commuting to the office one day in
November, we stopped by the Berkshire Eagle's office on a work-related errand. I write for the Eagle as a columnist, which is the county's largest newspaper, but I had never been to their offices. So I was somewhat surprised to gaze up at this gorgeous, red brick structure. It was, I found out, ,a recently-converted paper mill, circa 1850s, right in the center of town, although nestled in a valley off the main
thoroughfare called North Street. We must have passed this huge sprawling
monument to early
Pittsifeld countless times but never noticed it.
As I waited outside while Barbara went in to pick up a package, I admired the blending of old and new that the headquarters building represented. The
paper mill complex was divided into three units. The office building, which had retained all the charm of the original brick structure married with larges expanses of glass, vaulted modern ceilings and walkways with lots of exposed piping and wooden beams. Adjacent to it was a large, boxy warehouse kind of structure that appeared to be waiting for the same kind of loving makeover. To the far left was The
Clock Tower, a wonderful slice of history and style, flanked on both sides by two charming brick wings surrounded by green lawns and modern walkways. I leaned forward to get a better view and noticed a sign out front.
"Condos for sale."
I felt a thrill of excitement course up my neck. I couldn't wait for Barbara to return. When she did, I practically jumped up and down in my excitement.
"Look, look, these are condos," I babbled, pointing at the sign.
We had not even seen the inside and we knew this was it. As luck would have it, a friend, David Fleming, who had moved into the city a few years ago with his wife Kathy, was providing us pointers and help in our search. He knew one of the original
tenants in the
Clock Tower and arranged for us to visit with them and get a tour of their home. Two days later, thanks to this gracious and lovely couple, we were treated to a tour of their home as well as their parent's condo. Their parents had recently purchased a condo on the same floor.
The entire condo concept was exactly what we had been looking for. In Manhattan's SOHO district, for example, a two bedroom loft like this would cost $2 million or more. In
Pittsfield it cost less than a quarter of that. The wonderful possibilities of
melding the old and the new, the funky with the traditional, appealed to our nature. Old beams, aged brick, ancient pipes and ducts, original wood flooring woven within state-of-the-art electrical, sewage and energy saving systems and materials was an answer to
everything we were looking for. Modern fixtures, appliances, kitchens, plumbing and so much more relieved us of the task of high
maintenance that is part of the price of all houses, old or new. No worries of having to fix this or that, shovelling the deck or mowing the lawn, which is becoming increasingly important to me at 61 years of age.
Elevators, a five-minute
commute to work,
private parking, a short walk to the theatre, cinema, gym, dentist, doctor and twenty new restaurants with a
supermarket and pharmacy across the street appeals to us.
Our journey was
finally over. We loved the space, the concept and the people who lived in the building. We were sold before we even knew the price.
