In 2000, while working for Restoration Carpentry, I was given the assignment of Lead Carpenter/Project Manager on a job in Salem, NJ. It was funded with a matching funds grant from the NJ Histric Trust and the City of Salem, and was conducted in accordance withThe Secretary of the Interior’s Standards for the Treatment of Historic Properties.
It involved a restoration of an old bank building, which had been acquired by the city in 1926. Ask any local, and they will tell you the story of the moving of the building in 1926, from main St, around the corner to where it sits today. There are pictures of the moving process, which involved setting the building on rollers, and pulling it a couple inches a day with a block and tackle attached to a single draft horse, or maybe I should say drafted horse, since I'm sure he didn't volunteer. Looking at the size of the building, and its brick and stone construction, it boggles the mind, and thus has entered local lore aided by the fact that the bank never closed during this process, customers would just have to walk a couple more inches every day to get in. Over the years it had been adapted for the city's use as a dispensary of soulless bureaucracy, an office for the collection of taxes and water bills. When I arrived to begin the demolition phase, the space was filled with cubicles, a counter with glass partitions, flourescent lighting, and linoleum floors. Although one could tell from the exterior that this was an architectural gem, much of the interior evidence of that was not immediately apparent. The 5 ft high wainscot had been painted with 4 or 5 coats of ugly brown paint , as had been the 2 beautiful fireplaces and all the windows and doors. The magificent crown molding, the most elaborate I have seen, had been painted white, disguising its detail.
As the demolition progressed, the original beauty became abundantly clear. On disassembling the service counter, I found that it had been built upon the original teller counter from the bank, covered, of course with formica and more paint. As these were not part of the new plan for the space, I removed the white oak cabinets, but saved a section to adapt for use in my kitchen, where they sit today.
Teller cabinets relocated to my kitchen. The panelling on the back side(facing us) mimics the original (on the end to the right) with strip oak flooring ripped to dimension and applied over oak plywood.
It involved a restoration of an old bank building, which had been acquired by the city in 1926. Ask any local, and they will tell you the story of the moving of the building in 1926, from main St, around the corner to where it sits today. There are pictures of the moving process, which involved setting the building on rollers, and pulling it a couple inches a day with a block and tackle attached to a single draft horse, or maybe I should say drafted horse, since I'm sure he didn't volunteer. Looking at the size of the building, and its brick and stone construction, it boggles the mind, and thus has entered local lore aided by the fact that the bank never closed during this process, customers would just have to walk a couple more inches every day to get in. Over the years it had been adapted for the city's use as a dispensary of soulless bureaucracy, an office for the collection of taxes and water bills. When I arrived to begin the demolition phase, the space was filled with cubicles, a counter with glass partitions, flourescent lighting, and linoleum floors. Although one could tell from the exterior that this was an architectural gem, much of the interior evidence of that was not immediately apparent. The 5 ft high wainscot had been painted with 4 or 5 coats of ugly brown paint , as had been the 2 beautiful fireplaces and all the windows and doors. The magificent crown molding, the most elaborate I have seen, had been painted white, disguising its detail.
As the demolition progressed, the original beauty became abundantly clear. On disassembling the service counter, I found that it had been built upon the original teller counter from the bank, covered, of course with formica and more paint. As these were not part of the new plan for the space, I removed the white oak cabinets, but saved a section to adapt for use in my kitchen, where they sit today.
Teller cabinets relocated to my kitchen. The panelling on the back side(facing us) mimics the original (on the end to the right) with strip oak flooring ripped to dimension and applied over oak plywood.
Pulling up layer after layer of linoleum and underlayment, I eventually reached the diagonally laid maple floor, which unfortunately had sections missing and many nail holes. I was able to salvage enough from the back section of the building to patch in the front, so that now, the main room has its original floor.
Buttonwood Painting, of Philadelphia, was hired as a subcontractor to do the laborious work of stripping the paint from all the woodwork, and a look at the extent and detail of that work, including the little wooden medallions every few inches along the wainscot, and the intricate carvings on the fireplaces,
can only begin to tell you what those guys were up against. As this was a historical job, no torches could be used, so it was repeated applications of chemical strippers that got the job done.
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Pieces of the woodwork had been cut out at various places over the years to accommodate electrical or mechanical needs, and it was part of my job to patch these with matching species, leaving as much of the original in place as was possible.
The large windows (4+ft square per sash) were stripped, then I dissassembled them, reattached the sash weights, which had long been lost in their pockets, and rehung them. They operate now with two fingers, even though they weigh about 80 lbs each
The gorgeous pocket doors had been stuck in their pockets long ago and forgotten, but have been restored to their former glory, and are used regularly by the buildings's occupants.
I worked from an elegantly drawn set of plans, created by Philip Scott, of Kise, Straw, and Kolotner. Philip designed the desks which would be used by the City Council in their twice monthly meeting.
We had the large cap molding milled, and the rest was built on site by me. I made the tongue in groove panels by adding a bead to the edge of standard #1 oak flooring with one of my antique molding planes.
The original planned use for the building was as a courtroom, but it was decided that there were too many windows to be appropriate for that. So it was designed to be used as the City Council Room. There are two offices on the second floor, that several city officials told me they hoped to move into, however, and I think as a testament to how well the job turned out, the state senator and the state representative from the district moved their offices there. The first floor is now also used as the welcome center for the city of Salem, and is open for tours.
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