Today we may consider a slow Internet connection a hardship, but in 1900 the average American lived in a home with no central heat, no flush toilet, no refrigeration and no washing machine.
Technology, however, isn’t the only force to reshape our shelter. Demographics, society, economics and government also play a role.
“We have a more dynamic housing market than almost any other country,” says Michael Beyard, senior resident fellow at the Urban Land Institute, a real estate think tank in Washington, D.C. Unlike many countries, the United States bankrolls homeownership through mortgage programs, tax deductions and the extension of infrastructure. “Those subsidies have fueled an enormous home-building industry,” says Beyard. With fewer barriers and more competition, developers react faster to shifts in the market.
What’s more, Americans are trend-mongers. “Americans have more housing trends due to our geographic and social mobility,” says Nina Gruen, principal sociologist at Gruen Gruen + Associates, a real estate consulting firm in San Francisco. Our willingness to regularly uproot and swap residences perpetuates churn in the housing market and sparks innovation, she explains. Yet our yen for keeping up with the Joneses may be even more influential. “We’ve always been a materialistic society,” says Gruen. “We want the best toys, the best stock options, the best houses.”
With that in mind, we looked at some 20th Century trends that have influenced housing as we enter the new millennium.
Getting wired
Thomas Edison’s light bulb did more than illuminate residences; the 1879 invention sparked an era in climate control.
By the early 1900s, electric lighting began to hit U.S. homes, with forced-air heating systems appearing about 1910. “The advent of electricity meant our environment got a lot cleaner,” observes Scott Thompson, an architect at Lord Aeck & Sargent in Atlanta. “Until then, homes were dirty and smelly because early energy sources [gas, coal and wood-burning fireplaces] pumped out soot and odors through the house.”
Originally installed for electric lighting, indoor wiring also led to a number of conveniences such as electric irons, coffee percolators, ranges, dishwashers and refrigerators, making life a lot easier for housewives.
Granting even more comfort and control, Willis Carrier introduced the first air conditioner in 1914. The new technology appeared first in commercial venues such as movie theaters and department stores. Until the 1950s, air conditioning was more of a novelty in homes. Yet, by 1990, 70 percent of U.S. residences had some form of air conditioning and most new-construction housing offered central air.
Air conditioning transformed the South, leading to rapid economic and population growth in Sunbelt cities, especially Miami, Atlanta, Houston and Dallas. It also altered housing design: People no longer relied on architectural features such as deep eaves and shady porches to cope with sweltering temperatures.
Battling bacteria
In 1882, German scientist Robert Koch wrote a paper that identified microorganisms as disease-carrying killers, and his “germ theory” unleashed a compulsion for cleanliness.
“Americans became obsessed with hygiene,” says Marilyn Casto, associate professor of interior design at Virginia Tech in Blacksburg, Va. “They now knew that dirt was associated with disease and started to apply this new knowledge to their homes. As a result, bathrooms and kitchens changed dramatically.”
Up to then, bathrooms and kitchens looked like any other room, with wood floors, rugs and patterned wallpaper. But, between 1900 and 1920, easier-to-clean materials were introduced. Tile became the new standard for bathroom floors and walls as porcelain and china became predominant for tubs, toilets and sinks.
Smooth, hard surfaces were thought to deter dust and germs, so kitchens began to feature linoleum floors, and walls and cabinets were enameled.
White became the prevailing color in kitchens and baths. “The idea was that the better you could see dirt, the better you could fight germs,” explains Casto. By the 1930s and ’40s, however, color began to reappear, she adds: “As homes actually became cleaner, people didn’t feel the need for the appearance of so much sterility.”
Levittown
Available only by rail or trolley, suburbs were once the domain of the rich or the upper-middle class. But in the late ’40s, suburbia became a mass-market phenomenon — a product of our extended road system, flexible loans for war veterans and tract housing.
Levittown, the country’s first mass-produced housing project, was launched in 1947 on New York’s Long Island. Developer William Levitt used an assembly-line process that allowed his builders to crank out some 30 homes per day, resulting in 17,000 homes by 1951. At 750 square feet, these two-bedroom Cape Cods weren’t castles. They were, however, new and inexpensive, selling for about $7,990.
Critics lambasted Levittown’s architectural uniformity, claiming it would breed social conformity and intolerance. “Yet people were delighted by it,” says Gruen. “Many families were moving there from crowded multifamily housing in the inner city and never had their own yard.”
There was another reason the cookie-cutter housing didn’t faze early home buyers, adds Gruen: “American society was very homogenous in the mid-’50s. Most mothers stayed at home, and people wanted to be the same.”
Today’s suburbs are far more diverse. Instead of a sea of single-family homes that look alike, production-home builders are offering more choice in layout and design. What’s more, there’s a shift in residents: No longer Ozzie and Harriet’s exclusive stomping ground, today’s suburbs are home to more racial and ethnic minorities, gays, divorcees and single folk.
The ranch house
During the ’50s and ’60s, the ranch house became a dominant form of architecture and a symbol of postwar American life.
California architect Cliff May wins credit for building the first modern ranch house, in San Diego in 1932, and the design quickly migrated to the East. Loosely based on Spanish haciendas and influenced by Frank Lloyd Wright’s Prairie School design, the ranch is characterized by its horizontal lines, low-pitched roof and expansive use of glass.
A single-story shelter, the ranch was easy to build and affordable. It also reflected the nuclear family of the ’50s and a move to casual living. Unlike Victorian homes where life was compartmentalized — with public rooms downstairs and private rooms upstairs — ranch homes combined formal and informal spaces. Kitchens and dining rooms were connected, and there was no central stairwell to break up space.
“This open floor plan made homes appear much larger,” says Sherry Ahrentzen, professor of architecture at the University of Wisconsin in Milwaukee. The ranch house had a fresh, modern look that appealed to Americans in the ’50s, a time when there was a real affinity for the West.
Teardown time
When incomes flourished during the ’80s and ’90s, many smaller homes in central cities and nearby suburbs were torn down and replaced by contemporary castles, measuring 5,000 square feet or larger.
McMansions are nothing new, though. The nouveau riche are fond of flaunting their fortune, and what better way to advertise financial success? “The size of your home and its neighborhood tells a lot about your income and social group,” says sociologist Gruen. “In a society that pretends not to have any class structure, housing defines who you are — or who you want to be.”
And yet the wrecking ball is a new twist. Until the last couple of decades, there was enough vacant land on the edge of cities to build modern palaces. But now, if people want both a big new house and proximity to jobs, shopping and entertainment, their only option often is to tear down and rebuild.
Teardowns stir a lot of resentment among neighbors, who suddenly find their homes dwarfed. Besides this inherent one-upmanship, critics fault McMansions for throwing streetscapes out of scale and destroying the charm of older communities.
With the recent economic downturn, the teardown trend has slowed in some areas, but is certain to reappear. “America has a long history of pretentious homes,” says ULI’s Beyard. “Every time there’s a boom in the stock market, McMansions become an issue again.”
The American dream
Only 46.5 percent of Americans owned homes in 1900, but by the end of the century, rates rose to 66.2 percent.
In the 19th Century, Uncle Sam didn’t get too involved in housing, except for land grants. But during the Great Depression, the government launched numerous initiatives to bolster the economy, which also affected homeownership. For example, the Federal Housing Authority, created in 1934, gave us 20- and 30-year amortized mortgages. Although amortized mortgages were common in the ’20s, payments were spread over 15 years — or less — and loan-to-value ratios were much lower — that is, the down payments were much higher than the 20 percent or less of today. Another boon for housing: The Servicemen’s Readjustment Act (GI Bill) of 1944 entitled veterans to home loans with no down payment.
Those programs paid off. In the ’50s, homeownership jumped a whopping 6.9 points, the greatest increase in a single decade. In the ’90s, ownership rates jumped an impressive 2 points, fueled by low interest rates, low unemployment and a strong economy.
Experts believe that the rate of homeownership will continue to inch higher, due to nominal interest rates, low inflation, prosperous Baby Boomers and the assimilation of immigrants. “Initially, new immigrants tend to hold down ownership rates, but after they get settled, rates shoot up,” says Dowell Myers, professor of urban planning, University of Southern California.
Still, homeownership can — and should — go only so high, says Myers. “Renting is an important part of housing that shouldn’t be neglected. It may be better than owning for people in some life situations,” he says.
Housing on steroids
Over the last century, family size has shrunk while houses have bloated. This year, the average new house measured 2,305 square feet, up more than 50 percent from 1,500 square feet in 1970 and more than double from 1,100 square feet in the 1950s, observes Gopal Ahluwalia, research director at the National Association of Home Builders in Washington, D.C.
Chalk it up to our conflicting desire for both privacy and community. Americans want room to retreat, but they also want places to convene with friends and family, resulting in what architect Carol Crandall calls the “two-in-one house.”
Low interest rates and a strong economy have given many consumers more buying power, and tax deductions can encourage Americans to buy more housing than they actually need. “Housing is a comfort zone,” says Crandall, a principal at Crandall Ritzu Architects in Chicago. “Many people feel more secure investing in their home than in stocks or bonds. It’s all about money. Follow the money.”
And yet all this extra elbowroom isn’t satisfying. “People err on the side of more square footage instead of quality of life,” says Sarah Susanka, a Minneapolis-based architect and author of “Creating the Not-So-Big House.” Susanka says that “not-so-big” doesn’t mean small, cramped homes, but places where people feel nurtured.
“Large homes may look wonderful in a magazine spread, but living in them is a different story,” says Susanka. “You need a lot of bodies to make 12-foot ceilings feel comfortable.”
Gargantuan garages
In 1913, the first Model T rolled off the assembly line, launching America’s love affair with the automobile. By 1995, there were 123 million cars in use, nearly one for every two Americans.
Initially, garages were positioned far away from houses because early cars were noisy, smelly and considered fire hazards. But, as vehicles became safer and quieter, garages inched closer.
As families accumulated multiple cars, garages grew larger to accommodate them. By 1980, 52 percent of new single-family homes had garages for two or more cars. That jumped to 81 percent by 1999. In fact, today’s three-car garage averages 650 square feet — nearly the size of the original Levittown home.
But the race to provide enough shelter for our transportation has taken its toll. Gargantuan garages dominate the streetscape. Rather then having homes with attached garages, it often appears that we own garages with attached homes.
Personal pampering
For a decade or more, consumers have been lapping up luxury. We’re seeing floors made of granite and limestone, cabinets of teak and mahogany, countertops of slate. Mom may have loved her Kenmore range, but commercial-grade appliances in sleek stainless steel have emerged.
No longer a hallmark of the rich and famous, luxury finishes have moved mainstream for a good many Americans. “A couple decades ago, marble tile was considered upscale, but now it’s a staple at Home Depot,” points out Doug Nickless, a Chicago interior designer.
The urge to indulge has been fanned by the boom of home magazines, says Crandall. “There didn’t use to be so many of them, but today’s shelter magazines are disseminating our ideals for living standards.” Magazines communicate a need for spa-like bathrooms with whirlpools, toilets separated from showers, showers big enough for two people — and, of course, one sink is never enough.
Ironically, people rarely have time to enjoy their lavish kitchens and baths. “We want the accommodations of a luxury hotel, but people can’t stop long enough to use them,” says Crandall.
Suburban sprawl
Americans’ passion for a “plot of their own” has led to another 20th Century legacy: suburban sprawl.
In 1956, federal legislation launched our interstate highway system, which allowed homeowners to live farther from jobs. But highways have not kept up with commuters. Between 1980 and 1997, average daily travel per vehicle jumped 68 percent while miles of paved road rose only 14 percent.
Sprawl is often fingered for a variety of maladies: the decline of central cities, increased noise and pollution, unprecedented traffic congestion and an erosion of community.
Yet there are some positive signposts.
“Smart growth” policies are redirecting development into existing communities (both urban and suburban) by changing how government subsidies work and often making housing there more affordable.
New zoning laws in some suburban areas allow for (1) higher densities that encourage a pedestrian environment and (2) mixed uses instead of the current segregated system that confines housing to one zone and shopping and offices to another.
Transit-oriented development (homes built around metro rail stations) is helping reduce gridlock.
Neo-traditional housing projects are encouraging a sense of community through smaller streets, sidewalks and parks — whose aim is to de-emphasize the role of the car. Today’s time-crunched consumers crave convenience as well as community, says the Urban Land Insitute’s ULI’s Beyard. Although Americans love their cars, they’re getting weary of spending so much time behind the wheel.
“I think we’ll see a more balanced pattern of development in the future where transit again becomes one of organizing elements for housing,” says Beyard.
