As an indication of how modern thought may be hampered severely by prevailing notions it may be stated that, as a result of his deductions and experiments, the engineer decided that a thickness of 7 inches for the walls would be adequate. But his decision was over-ruled. The existing regulations insisted that brick walls should be 14 inches thick and the concrete had to comply with these rules. The result of this indefensible policy, for which misconception and lack of knowledge were responsible, was to double the weight of the structure and to inflate the cost of the buildings to an unnecessary degree. The engineer computed that if construction were carried out upon the lines he advocated the building could be completed, including the provision of all necessary plant, for £1,230—$6,150. Enforced compliance with obsolete rules inflated the cost to £4,072—$20,360. In other words the ratepayers of Liverpool were compelled to spend £2,842—$14,210—more than they need have done—a flagrant waste of money, material, time, labour, and knowledge.
One objection which has been levelled against the concrete house is the concrete floor. But to surmount this objection the Liverpool engineer embedded wooden scantlings in the concrete, covered the surface of the latter with a layer of pitch mixture applied hot, and then nailed down ¹⁄₄-inch floor-boards in the usual manner. In this way the so-called defects of the concrete floor were completely overcome. The walls were subjected to several experiments to determine the most suitable internal finish, some being papered, others plastered, while in further instances a simple coating of sanitary wash or lime was applied. It was found, however, that for such buildings, distemper was the most efficient finishing medium.
This experiment conclusively substantiated the claims advanced by the engineer. It demonstrated the fact that concrete lends itself to rapid construction, the Liverpool building, despite its size, being erected and roofed within three months, notwithstanding frequent cessations owing to inclement weather, and was ready for occupation within another eleven weeks—say six months in all. It is safe to assume that had brick been employed it could never have been finished in the time.
The advantages of concrete for such domiciles are obvious. The structure is as near being fire-proof as it is possible to contrive. It complies with every requirement of hygiene. It is substantial, weather-proof, and sound-proof, while it improves with age. Concrete, unlike the common grade of brick, does not deteriorate under the influences of time and weather. The walls offer no refuge for vermin, unless papered, and should a room become infected as a result of contagious disease among the inmates, it can be promptly sterilized by turning on a hose of boiling disinfectant and being scoured from top to bottom. Rats and mice cannot secure a refuge, because the extreme hardness of concrete taxes their gnawing powers to the superlative degree.
The experience of Liverpool was adequate to drive home the fact that concrete dwellings are not only able to provide the poorer classes with a substantial home, complying in every respect with modern requirements, but also indicated a profitable use for an otherwise useless waste product. Were comprehensive schemes carried out upon these lines the cost factor might be reduced to the absolute minimum by recourse to standardization in the preparation of the slabs. As a result of this initial experiment—the first of its character in Great Britain—the Liverpool city engineer estimated that he could erect future buildings of this type, in blocks of five, at £1,700—$8,500—each, and that this would show a saving of 25 per cent. over the cost which would be incurred if brick were used. But, and this was an important factor, to achieve this end it would be incumbent to allow the engineer to pursue his way unfettered by obsolete ideas, fallacious notions, and antiquated rules and regulations.
Some years ago Edison precipitated a mild wave of excitement by the perfection of a process for moulding houses complete in a solid block, much along the lines followed by the housewife in the preparation of jellies and other similar table dainties. He suggested the erection of a mould to the design of the desired house, including both internal and external artistic embellishments, and then to run the concrete into the metal shell in liquid form and to allow it to set and harden. Then the mould was to be demolished, leaving a solid monolithic-structure from foundation to roof, and without a crack or a joint. The mould, naturally, was built up in sections, which could be standardized and interchanged, so that once a set of moulds had been acquired a house of any desired dimensions might be erected. Of course, this demanded an imposing array of moulds, entailing heavy initial capital expenditure. Edison frankly admitted this to be the weak point in his scheme, because the mould bill for the construction of a “poured” house, as it was called, costing £240—$1,200—would be at least £5,000—$25,000. Consequently the suggestion was impracticable, unless the builder were given an imposing house-building scheme to complete, to enable him to distribute his mould charges in such a manner over the houses as to increase the actual building cost of each only by a trifling amount.
Edison’s conception aroused extreme interest in America and provoked widespread ridicule in these islands. The “poured” house was regarded in the same light as was the telephone upon its first appearance in London. As the latter was declared to be merely a “scientific toy,” so was the poured house described as nothing but a wild dream. But, be it noted, antagonism and objection have been levelled from the fickle standpoint of theory; we have no practical experiment to guide us in our assault upon Edison’s idea. Instead of setting to work to prove, or disprove, the practicability of the poured house we wasted time in academic discussions concerning “sweating walls,” condensation, coldness in winter, and to embark upon high-falutin diatribes concerning the imperative necessity for such abstract demands as “breathing bricks,” and other fantastic ideas which possibly are of interest but do not advance the realization of the cheap house, contribute to the solution of the housing question, or proffer a single step towards the utilization of waste.
The Americans are more enlightened. A new idea is subjected to practical test and discussed afterwards, not destructively, but in the hope of being able to solve the defects which have manifested themselves in the experiment with a view to establishing the commercial success of the idea. While our house-building quidnuncs are leaving no stone unturned to prevent poured houses becoming an established practice, our engineers are setting to work in the American fashion, and as a result we are building poured concrete ships and other articles of utilitarian value. Possibly they are not poured in the strict interpretation of the Edisonian term, but modified according to experience which has been gathered.
In 1909 the International Congress on Tuberculosis assembled at Washington D.C. To stimulate interest in a house built along such lines as to comply with the searching requirements of perfect sanitation and which would be particularly adapted for occupation by persons suffering from tuberculosis, a reward was offered for the best model of a germ-proof house. A young Washington architect-engineer attacked the problem, submitted his conception for such a house, of the “poured” type, and because it triumphed over all competitors, which clung to the rutted line of thought, in the provision of light, air, and sanitation features, carried off the prize.
In this design the cellar which, if damp, forms an ideal breeding-ground for germs and disease, was eliminated. Floors, walls, ceilings, cornices, bath—all were of cement poured into moulds. In each room the floor was given a slightly sloping depression at one corner and provided with a suitable outlet and trap. The idea was obvious. The housewife on cleaning day did not raise impenetrable clouds of dust to pollute the room. She simply removed her furniture, together with all hangings, to be beaten in the open air. Then she turned on a hose and flushed floor, walls, and ceilings, the water escaping through the trap. No dust whatever was raised, and the room was left dry, sweet, and clean. There were many other features contributing to the general attractiveness of the scheme. The model aroused more interest than any other at the Congress exhibition, but, while one and all declared the house to possess every attractive feature, it was regarded as merely a fantastic conception.