The Complete Home

by Unknown

CHAPTER I

CHOOSING A PLACE TO LIVE

Blessed indeed are they who are free to choose where and how they shall live. Still more blessed are they who give abundant thought to their choice, for they may not wear the sackcloth of discomfort nor scatter the ashes of burned money.

TASTE AND EXPEDIENCE

Most of us have a theory of what the home should be, but it is stowed away with the wedding gifts of fine linen that are cherished for our permanent abode. We believe in harmony of surroundings, but after living, within a period of ten years or so, in seven different apartments with seven different arrangements of rooms and seven different schemes of decoration, we lose interest in suiting one thing to another. Harmony comes to mean simply good terms with the janitor. Or if (being beginners) we have some such prospect of nomadic living facing us, and we are at all knowing, we realize the utter helplessness of demonstrating our good taste, purchase any bits of furniture that a vagrant fancy may fasten upon, and give space to whatever gimcracks our friends may foist upon us, trusting that in the whirligig of removals the plush rocker, the mission table, and the brass parlor stand may each find itself in harmony with something else at one time or another. Some day we shall be freed from the tyranny of these conditions and then——!

RESPONSIBILITIES

But when the time comes to declare our independence of landlord and janitor, or at least to exchange existence in a flat for life in a rented cottage, we find that freedom brings some perplexing responsibilities as well as its blessings. Even if our hopes do not soar higher than the rented house, there is at least the desire for a reasonable permanency, and we have no longer the excuse of custom-bred transitoriness to plead for our lack of plan. Where the home is to be purchased for our very own the test of our individuality becomes more exacting. A house has character, and some of the standards that apply to companionship apply to it. In fact, we live with it, as well as in it. And if we have a saving conscience as to the immeasurability of home by money standards we are not to be tempted by the veriest bargain of a house that does not nearly represent our ideals. To blunder here is to topple over our whole Castle of Hope.

RENTING, BUYING OR BUILDING

But the test is most severe of all when good fortune permits us to choose locality, site, and building plans, and to finish and furnish the house to suit our tastes, even though less in accordance with our full desires than with our modest means. Now we may bring out our theory of living from its snug resting place. It will need some furbishing up, maybe, to meet modern conditions, but never mind!

Whether we mean to rent, to buy, or to build, the problem of where and what and how is before us. As folk of wholesome desires, we insist first of all upon good taste, comfort, and healthfulness in our habitats; and since we may agree upon the best way to attain these essentials without ignoring our personal preferences in details, we may profitably take counsel together as to what the new home should be.

LOCATION

Thought of a location should begin with the birth of the home idea, even if the purchase-money be not immediately available. We should not only take sufficient time to study conditions and scheme carefully for the home, but must sagaciously bear in mind that where real estate is in active demand anxiety to purchase stiffens prices. To bide one's time may mean a considerable saving. However, life, as we plan now to live it, is short enough at most, and we should not cheat ourselves out of too much immediate happiness by waiting for the money-saving opportunity.

The question of neighborhood, if we decide to remain within city limits, is a difficult one. In most of the larger places no one can accurately foretell the future of even the most attractive residence district. Factories and business houses may not obtrude, but flats are almost sure to come. Few cottages are being constructed in cities, partly because of lack of demand, but principally because they do not pay sufficient income on the investment. Consequently the houses that are to be had are seldom modern. Sometimes they pass into the hands of careless tenants and the neighborhood soon shows deterioration. Still, if we are determined to remain in the city and take our chances, it is possible by careful investigation to discover congenial surroundings. Many of the essential tests of the suburban home that we shall discuss hereafter will apply also to the house in a strictly residence district of a large city; practically all of them to the house in a smaller town.

CITY OR COUNTRY

The chances are, however, that we shall choose the suburb. But before we desert J 72, or whatever our shelf in the apartment building may be, we may well remind ourselves that we are also to desert some of the things that have made city life enjoyable. For one thing, with all our growling at the landlord, we have been able to cast upon him many burdens that we are now to take upon ourselves. Some of our sarcasms are quite certain to come home to roost. The details of purchasing fuel, of maintaining heat, of making repairs, are now to come under our jurisdiction, and we shall see whether we manage these duties better than the man who is paid a lump sum to assume them.

RENUNCIATIONS

Living in a flat, or even in a city house, we do not know, nor care to know, who the people above or next door to us may be; and they are in precisely the same position with regard to us. Mere adjacency gives us no claim upon their acquaintance, nor does it put us at the mercy of their insistence. Our calling list is not governed by locality, and we can cut it as we wish without embarrassment. Choice is not so easy in the suburb. There, willynilly, we must know our neighbors and be known by them. Fortunately, in most instances they will be found to be of the right sort, if not fully congenial.

The theater, too, must become rather a red-letter diversion than a regular feature of our existence, if it has been so. Whatever enthusiasm we may possess for the opera, an occasional visit, with its midnight return, will soon come to satisfy us. Our pet lectures, club life, participation in public affairs, frequent mail delivery, convenience of shopping, two-minute car service, and freedom from time tables—these suggest what we have to put behind us when we pass the city gates.

It is also the part of wisdom not to forget that, though the country is alive with delights for us when all nature is garbed in green and the songbirds carol in the elms and maples, there cometh a time—if we are of the north—when fur caps are in season, the coal scoop is in every man's hand, the snow shovel splintereth, and the lawn mower is at rest. Then it is that our allegiance to country life will be strained, if ever—particularly if we have provided ourselves with a ten-minute walk to the station. Wading through snow against a winter wind, we see the "agreeable constitutional" of the milder days in a different light.

We should think of all these things, and of some sacrifices purely personal. It is better to think now than after the moving man's bill has come in. Reason as we may, regrets will come, perhaps loneliness. But the compensations, if we have chosen wisely, will be increasingly apparent, and we shall be the very exceptions of exceptions if, before the second summer has passed, we are not wedded beyond divorce to the new home.

Once determined upon forswearing urban residence, a multitude of considerations arise. First of these is "Which place?" Our suburban towns have been developed in two ways. Some are "made to order," while others were originally rural villages but have come under metropolitan influence. Living in the latter is likely to be less expensive, and local life may have more of a distinctive character; but the husk of the past is almost certain to be evident in the mixture of old and modern houses and in a certain offish separation of the native and incoming elements. The "made-to-order" town is likely to exhibit better streets and sidewalks, to be more capably cared for, to be freer from shanties, and to possess no saloons. Land and living may demand greater expenditure, but they will be worth the difference.

SCHOOLS AND CHURCHES

With ninety-nine out of a hundred families the deciding argument in favor of going to the suburb has just got into short dresses and begun to say "Da-da." Already we see pointings to the childish activities that we would not check. No one who stops to think about it chooses to have his children play in the city streets or be confined to a flat during the open months. For the children's sake, if not for our own, we turn to the country, and one of our first thoughts is for the children's school.

I called on a young business acquaintance recently and found him engrossed in examining a pile of college catalogues. "Going in for a post-grad?" I inquired. "Why, haven't you heard?" he responded. "It's a boy—week ago Saturday. Er—would you say Yale or Harvard?"

This was preparedness with a vengeance, to be sure; but almost before we realize that infancy is past, the boy and girl will be ready for school, and it is important to know that the right school will be ready for them. Happily, the suburban school is usually of special excellence, and the chief thought must be of distance and whether the children will need to cross dangerous railroad tracks.

We shall, of course, wish to be where there are strong churches, with a society of our chosen denomination, if possible. It may be that the social life which has its center there will provide all the relaxation we require; if we seek outside circles, it is desirable to know whether we are likely to please and be pleased. Always there is the suburban club; but not always is the suburban club representative of the really best people of the town.

TRANSPORTATION

On the practical side a question of large importance is that of transportation. The fast trains may make the run in twenty minutes, but we shall not always catch the fast trains, and the others may take forty. Morning and evening they should be so frequent that we need not lose a whole hour on a "miss." In stormy weather we must find shelter in the station, comfortable or uncomfortable. On the husband's monthly ticket the rides may cost only a dime; when the wife and her visiting friends go to the matinée each punch counts for a quarter, and four quarters make a dollar. To the time of the train must be added the walk or ride from the downtown station to the office, and the return walk from the home station. A near-by electric line for emergencies may sometimes save an appointment. None of these things alone will probably give pause to our plans, but all will weigh in our general satisfaction or disagreement with suburban life.

THE BUTCHER, THE BAKER, AND THE CANDLE-STICK MAKER

Not every suburb is blessed with a perfectly healthful water supply. We must make sure of that. We want to find stores and markets sufficient to our smaller needs, at least, and to be within city delivery bounds, so that the man of the house shall not be required to make of himself a beast of burden. We hope, if we must employ a cook, that the milkman, iceman, and grocery boy will prove acceptable to her, for the policeman is sure to be a dignified native of family. We want the telephone without a prohibitive toll, electric light and gas of good quality at reasonable rates, streets paved and well cared for, sidewalks of cement, reasonable fire and police protection, a progressive community spirit, and a reputation for our town that will make us proud to name it as our place of abode.

THE HOME ACRE

All these things may be had in scores of American suburbs and smaller cities. But when we have selected the one or more towns that may please us, and get down to the house or lot, our range of choice will be found rather narrow. In the neighborhoods we would select, it is probable that few houses are to be rented. Most of them have been built for occupancy by their owners, who, if forced to go elsewhere, have preferred selling to renting. There is no prejudice against renters, but the sentiment is against renting, and this sentiment is well grounded in common sense. Still, some families find it advisable to rent for a year or so, meanwhile studying the local conditions and selecting a building site. This plan has much to commend it, though it makes a second move necessary. Others, who do not feel assured that a change in business will not compel an early removal, wisely prefer to rent, if a suitable house can be found for what they can afford to pay.

COMPARATIVE COST IN RENTING

The proportion of income that may be set aside for rent depends on what that payment covers. In a steam-heated city flat with complete janitor service, for instance, the rent at $40 is really no higher than the $25 suburban house, for heat and water rent are included. With the former, perhaps as much as a third of one's income could be spared for the fixed charge of rent; but in the country the proportion cannot with safety be greater than a fifth. Few satisfactory suburban houses can be rented under $35, and to this must be added the cost not only of coal and water, but of maintenance. On the whole, we are pretty sure to decide that it is better and cheaper to buy than to rent.

THE LOCATION SENSE

There is some advantage in being able to secure a lot in a square already built up. If present conditions are satisfactory we may feel reasonably sure that they will remain so. We know who our neighbors are to be, the sort of houses and other improvements that will affect the sightliness and value of our own property, and the surroundings that should in some degree govern the style of our abode. There is little of the speculative in such a choice, but we shall have to pay something extra for our assurances.

In a well built-up town, however, we are likely to find a more eligible natural site at less cost if we are not too insistent upon being close to the railway station. The best sites in the older sections are already occupied or are held at a premium. If we have an eye for location and the courage of our convictions, we may chance upon an excellent lot that can be had for a comparatively small price because of its detachment. It may be so situated that the approach is through the choicest part of the village, affording us much of the charm of suburban life without additional cost. Provided sewer, water, light, sidewalks, and paving are in, a little greater distance from the center may be well repaid by the beauty of the site, and after the family becomes accustomed to it the distance is scarcely noticed. Where there are telephones and local delivery of mail and groceries, occasions for going uptown are not frequent.

SIZE OF LOT

The lot should have at least 50 foot frontage; and be from 150 to 200 feet in depth. Many subdivisions are now platted without alleys, which are not desirable unless scrupulously maintained. The site should, if practicable, be on a plateau or elevation that gives an outlook, or at least make natural drainage certain. A lot below street level means expensive filling to be done.

POSITION

There can be little question as to the special desirability of an east frontage. With this exposure the morning sunlight falls upon the living room when least in use, while the afternoon glare finds the principal work of the kitchen accomplished. The indispensable veranda on the east and south is also usable for a maximum portion of the day, while the more solid side of the structure, being opposed to the prevailing winter winds, makes the heating problem easier.

[Illustration: A unique arrangement of the porch.]

OUTLOOK AND INLOOK

Though we should not pay too much premium for an east front, it is always most salable, and the difference will come back if we should dispose of the property later. Outlook and protection against being shut in should be assured. Our own property may be "gilt edge," but if the man across the way has backed up a barn or chicken yard in front of us our joy in life will be considerably lessened. Our home is both to look at and to look out from, and we do more of the latter than of the former. There are only two ways to make sure of not being shut in, unless the adjacent lots are already improved. These are to buy enough ground to give space on either side, or to secure a corner. Sometimes a corner at a higher price is the cheaper in the end.

Certainly it is advisable, even though our own house be not high-priced, to discover if there is a building restriction to prevent the erection of cheap structures near by. This is regulated usually by a stipulation in the deeds from the original subdivider. Without this guaranty even a high price for lots does not insure that some fellow who has put most of his money into the ground may not put up a woodshed next door and live in it until he can build a house. We shall not find it amiss either, to know something of the character of the owners of the adjoining property, for if they are real-estate men there is a probability of their putting up houses built to sell. Non-resident owner may be expected to allow their vacant lots to remain unkempt and to object to all improvement assessments.

TREES

Trees on the lot are a valuable asset, though dislike for sacrificing them, if carried too far, may result in shutting out the sunlight that is more essential than shade to health. Cottonwood, willows, and even the pretty catalpa are to be shunned in the interest of tidiness. On a 50- or even 100-foot lot we cannot have many trees without overshadowing the house. A few away from the building, not crowded together, will give more satisfaction than a grove and be less a detriment to health. Ordinarily grass will not grow to advantage where there is much shade; and a beautiful lawn, though open to the sunlight, is not only more attractive but much more serviceable than ground in heavy shadow and covered with sparse grass.

INCOME AND EXPENDITURE

Prices of vacant property in different sections vary so greatly that one cannot safely approximate the cost of a building lot. It is safe to say, though, that if values are figured on a proper basis, a satisfactory site for a moderate-priced home can be purchased for $1,000 in the town of our choice.

We have made it clear to ourselves that a home—anyone's home—should be much more than a house plumped down upon any bit of ground that will hold it. When we come to consider the house itself, we are confronted by the knowledge that here the tastes and habits, as well as the size and resources of the family, must govern the decision of many problems considered. Numbers alone are not always a fair guide, for sometimes the man or the woman of the house, or the baby, counts for much more than one in figuring space requirements.

We have in mind here that we are a family of four, that we have an income of from $1,500 to $2,500, and that we are prepared to spend or obligate ourselves to spend from $2,000 to $3,500 for a house to go on a lot to cost $1,000. The house we think of would be not too large for two and certainly would comfortably accommodate five or even six, depending upon their relations to one another. The extremes of income mentioned would scarcely affect our plans, and the difference in cost is accounted for by the choice of nonessentials and not by differences in the principal features of the house.

STYLE

Now, if we have already set our hearts upon having a house just like that "love of a place" we saw in Wayout-on-the-Hill the other day, we shall have to reconsider the entire lot proposition. We may as well face the fact that the house which is everything appropriate and artistic in one place may in another be simply grotesque. In this phase of the selective work we will profit by the advice of the architect, if he be something of an artist and not simply a draughtsman. At any rate, if we have the lot, let us decide what style of house should be on it; if we are surely settled upon the house, then by all means let us get a lot it will fit—and have a care, too, with regard to the style of architecture (or lack of it) in our prospective neighbors' houses.

There have been two extremes in later American home architecture—overornamentation and absolute disregard for appearance. The first arose from a feeling that every dollar spent in the interest of art (!) should be so gewgawed to the outer world that all who passed might note the costliness and wonder. The second extreme had its birth in an elementary practicality that believes anything artistic must be both extravagant and useless.

None of us can afford to build a house merely for its artistic qualities. Yet we feel that we owe it to our neighbors and to the community to make the house sightly. Most of all, we owe it to ourselves, for the product of our plans will be the concrete expression of our personality. Fortunately showiness is neither necessary nor desirable; while artistic qualities are not so much a matter of money as of thought. A few days ago, in a suburb of a Western city, I passed two houses recently constructed. One was simply an enlarged drygoods box with a few windows and doors broken into its sides—altogether a hideous disfigurement to the charming spot on which it was erected. Across the way stood the other cottage, with the same number of rooms as its vis-à-vis, but really exquisite in its simple beauty. And the latter, I was told, though equally spacious, cost less than the monstrosity across the way! Into the one, there was put thought; into the other none. Can we resist an opinion as to which home will be happier?

SIZE

Should we be somewhat limited in funds, we may have to make a selection between a large house finished in cheaper materials and a small house of the best quality all through. Doubtless much of the "hominess" that attaches us to some houses is due to their snugness, but not all of it. Size is secondary to adaptation to the family requirements. Waste space is an abomination, because it adds unnecessarily to the burden of the housekeeper; yet to be so cramped that everything must be moved every day is not a satisfactory alternative. There should be some reserve not only for emergencies but for future needs that may be foreseen. As the children grow up they will demand more room, and we shall want to give it to them. If we do not care to maintain surplus space for possible needs, the house should at least be planned with a view to making additions that will be in keeping with the general effect and will readily fall in with the practical arrangement of the house.

What is said about emergency space applies principally to the sleeping apartments. There is an altogether happy tendency in these days to simplify the living rooms and to plan them for constant use. We of the East have something to learn from the Californians, whose bungalows and cottages are so often models of simplicity without the crudeness of most small houses in other sections. Our coast brethren have demonstrated that a four- or five-room cottage will satisfactorily house a considerable family, and that it may be given the characteristics that charm without increasing the cost.

PLANS FOR BUILDING

The simplest and in many instances the prettiest cottages are of only a single story. But more than four rooms in one story makes a comparatively expensive house, besides using up a great deal of ground. With the foundation, first story, and roof provided for, the second story adds little to the cost compared to the space gained. Where ground and labor are cheap the single story is to be considered; but in most places it would not be practicable for us.

In planning the house due regard must be had for the dispositions of the respective members of the family. In any event we shall not please all of them, but the less the others have to complain about the happier the rest of us shall be.

NECESSARY ROOMS

If paterfamilias is accustomed to depositing his apparel and other belongings rather promiscuously about, expecting to find things where they were left on his return in the evening, it may be better to plan his room where it may stand undisturbed rather than to attempt the breaking of a habit which shows that he feels at home in his own house. Likewise, some place there should be where the mistress may conduct her sewing operations without wildly scrambling to clean up when the doorbell rings; the children should have at least one place in the house where they may "let loose" on a rainy day, and the master should have somewhere a retreat safe from interruption, as well as a workroom in the basement in which the tools and implements that quickly accumulate in a country home may be secure.

THE SICK ROOM

Sickness, too, may come, and the questions of privacy without an unwholesome curb upon both children and adults, of convenience to hot water and the bathroom, of saving steps for the nurse, should be thought of. An upstairs chamber is likely to be best on account of the ventilation, lighting, and distance from ordinary noises; but frequent journeys to the kitchen mean an excess of stair climbing. Whether there be sickness or not, there should be somewhere provision for individual privacy, where absolute rest may be gained.

A large indulgence in entertaining must have its influence in settling both size and arrangement. Ordinarily, however, we may expect to be reasonably hospitable without enlarging our home into a clubhouse. If we do not consider this matter in building, propriety must compel us afterwards to limit our company to numbers that we can comfortably care for.

ROOM TO ENTERTAIN

A good many of us who have contrived very nicely to live in a six-room city flat seem to think that we cannot get along with that number of rooms in a suburban house, though the latter would be considerably more spacious, not taking the basement into account. So far, however, as absolute essentials go, a six-room house, carefully planned, will provide for a family of four very comfortably, and it can be built in an artistic and modern style for $2,500 near Chicago, about ten per cent. more in the vicinity of New York, and probably for a less sum in smaller cities. An eight-room house would cost about a third more, and is, of course, in many ways more desirable. But, generally speaking, we demand more room than we really need, and then put ourselves to additional expense filling up the space with unnecessary furniture.

THE "LIVING ROOM"

In small houses there cannot be great variation in the proportioning of space, but it is important that the use of each room should be well understood and that it should be planned accordingly. If that is not done our decorative and furnishing schemes later on will be misapplied. Families differ as to their dispositions toward rooms. Most of us would not think of calling for an old-fashioned parlor in a small house nowadays, but merely to change the name from "parlor" to "living room" doesn't change our habits. The living room is meant to take the place of parlor, library, reception hall, and sitting room. If the family adjust themselves to it a great saving of space is effected, and the home life is given added enjoyment. Not all of us, however, can fit ourselves to new ideas, and it is better to suit ourselves than to be uncomfortable and feel out of place in the home.

[Illustration: A homelike living room.]

The living-room plan in a small house reduces the reception hall to something little more than a vestibule, but where six rooms are exceeded the reception hall may be enlarged and made serviceable. The first impression counts for much, not only with our guests but with ourselves, and if the hall be appropriately finished and fitted it seems fairly to envelop one with its welcome. One thing that must be insured, whatever form the entrance may take, is that it shall not be necessary to pass through the living room to reach other parts of the house.

THE DINING ROOM AND KITCHEN

Vastness is not essential to the dining room. Under usual conditions we are not likely to seat more than a dozen persons at our table, and a dinner party exceeding that number is too large for common enjoyment. Connection with the kitchen should be convenient without having the proximity too obvious. City kitchens are now usually made just large enough to accommodate required paraphernalia and to afford sufficient freeway for the cook. Many families do no home baking, and where fruit and vegetables are preserved the basement is utilized. Compactness in the kitchen saves hundreds of steps in the course of a day, and though it is difficult for us to forget the spacious room thought necessary by our parents, we may well learn, for our own comfort, to profit by the modern reasoning that opposes waste space. Still, it is better to defy modern tendencies and even to pain the architect than that the faithful house-keeper who clings tenaciously to the old idea should be made miserable. Some persons feel perpetually cramped in a small room, whereas others only note the snugness of it.

THE SLEEPING ROOMS

The general well-being of the family is more directly affected by the character of the bed chambers than by any other department of the house. However we may permit ourselves to be skimped in the living rooms, it is imperative that the sleeping apartments should be large—not barnlike, of course—well lighted, dry, and airy. Three large rooms are in every way preferable to four small ones. It is, to be sure, sometimes difficult to put the windows where they will let in the sunlight, the registers where they will heat, and the wall space where it will permit the sleeper to have fresh air without a draught. But marvels in the way of ingenious planning have been evolved where necessity, the mother of invention, has ruled; and assuredly there is no greater necessity than a healthful bedroom.

The children's bedroom in the house of six to eight rooms is likely to be utilized as a nursery or playroom on rainy days or in winter. It should have an abundance of sunlight. The largest and best room of all should be used by the heads of the household. To reserve the choicest apartment for the chance guest is an absurdity that sensible people have abandoned. If we must, we may surrender our room temporarily to the visitor, but the persons who live in a house twelve months of the year are entitled to the best it affords. Flat living has taught us to make use of all our rooms, and perhaps its influence is against hospitality; but we need not neglect that very important feature of a happy home in doing ourselves simple justice.

THINKING IT OUT

If we would be quite sure of it—to use a Hibernianism—we should live in our house at least a year before it is built. We need an imagination that will not only perceive our castle in all its stages of construction but will picture us in possession. Advice is not to be disdained, and a good architect we shall find to be a blessing; but the happiness of our home will be in double measure if we can feel that something of ourselves has gone into its creation. And this something we should not expect to manifest genius, or even originality, but tasteful discrimination.