Finding $5,200 stashed in a sauerkraut jar buried under the back porch became something of a theme for the home renovation commandeered by John Hopkins and Elliot Vieceli.
Buried treasure was the name of the game — finding it (in sometimes mind-boggling places), recognizing it and then doing something with it in ways that make your jaw drop.
The story starts in 1993 when Hopkins and Vieceli, life partners and young ar-chitects, started house-hunting.
It took them no fewer than nine months, in a search that became a Saturday-morning ritual with their real estate agent, to find the house of their dreams: a charmless brick two-flat (circa 1908) in the East Village on the city’s Near West Side. It sat expressionless on a typical 25-foot-wide lot.
But they found lots to treasure in this place.
It did not have a vintage interior. Old molding and woodwork is not their thing. They preferred to steer clear of such moral/preservationist dilemmas.
It had not been renovated (or mucked up, if you think like an architect) in a good 50 years.
And it had enough space out back for a garden.
“It was one of those crazy things — we were patient for nine months and then this thing came along,” Hopkins says. “It fit all of our varied criteria.”
Including price. The house was an estate sale. Besides that, all (real estate) eyes were on the piping hot Bucktown and Wicker Park neighborhoods to the north.
But patient was the operative word here.
If Hopkins and Vieceli were patient in the looking phase, they were downright virtuous in the renovation.
Three years passed before the dust would fly in what became a gradual — and ongoing — conversion from two-flat to 1,600-square-foot (two-bedroom) single-family home. They lived in the upstairs apartment for those three-years-in-waiting and took a tenant downstairs.
Like good wine …
That time proved critical.
They collected rent money. Their incomes rose. The value of the neighborhood and their house increased; they refinanced and put the money toward the renovation.
But perhaps most important from a design perspective, the years allowed them to hone their ideas — and assemble a heap of great finds.
There was a marble bathroom counter that they dug up at a salvage shop for $65.
And the cast-iron newel posts, now proud soldiers on their front steps, that they rescued from a neighboring house being demolished.
And the brushed-aluminum pendant lights that look industrial-chic in their kitchen/dining area: flea-market finds at $20 a fixture.
But the interior plan that they came up with yielded treasures of its own.
Although Hopkins describes the plan as having “evolved” as their financial situation brightened and as the two worked out their creative differences (it was no small thing that both are architects), the goal was always threefold.
It was about opening up the floor plan, getting rid of the choppy little rooms.
It was about coaxing more light into the innards, which is tricky in long, narrow city homes.
And it was about mixing new with the old. (At work at HOK Chicago, Hopkins is the point person on sustainable design. He naturally thinks about recycling and reuse.)
So let the sledgehammers fly. The house was gutted to its bones. And those bones proved golden.
Under and behind all the plaster and lath were earthy brick walls and floor joists with a patina of 100 years.
“When we got to the bare bones — in my mind — I imagined the house was springing up in its foundation,” Vieceli explains. “All the extra weight it had been carrying was removed.” The pureness of the place was reached.
Looking up
By leaving those joists exposed as a wooden canopy over the main floor — and not raising a drywall ceiling — they got more height on the first floor and more sense of light and air.
They also got an interesting texture above, which plays nicely with the (chosen) brick walls. They selected only a smattering to leave undrywalled, lest they lose too much heat and A/C through the exposed masonry.
In essence, Hopkins and Vieceli reused the house’s buried structure — the bricks and joists — as a major design element. That and their willingness to shoulder much of the labor themselves (demolition, sandblasting, sanding, refinishing doors, nightly cleanup) allowed them to spend their big dollars elsewhere.
Like: in the Brazilian cherry wood floor.
And: the custom steel railing for the front steps, front garden beds and Juliet balcony upstairs.
And: the bump-out out back (granted only 3 feet of bump-out) to turn the narrow back porch into a den.
But perhaps most significant, they sunk their money into the removal of a load-bearing wall on the first floor.
By getting rid of that wall and having their carpenters erect a less obtrusive form of structure (composed of laminated beams and structural columns that look like metal poles), they were able to open up the first floor from side wall to side wall. The full 21-foot width of the house is now in plain view.
The feeling is loftlike. The interior space free flows from front to back with no tunnel hallway. A utility area (an interesting, drywalled cube that curves) rests in the center of the first floor like a shelter-within-a house and holds a half-bath, coat closet and mechanicals (furnace, A/C ductwork and plumbing lines).
Upstairs, the architects showed their moxie about “getting light” and used industrial bar grate as flooring for the hallway. The grating allows light to filter down to the first floor.
And instead of drywall, they clad two of the hallway walls up here in textured glass panels, castaways from a commercial job that Hopkins was involved in at work.
“They sat in our basement for five years,” Hopkins says with a smile.
Lots of good stuff has clocked time in their basement.
Worth the waits
Hopkins and Vieceli are skillful scavengers and shoppers who are not averse to letting good stuff age while they figure out what to do with it.
Nor do they have a problem biding their time till the right thing comes along — they lived for a year without pulls or knobs on their kitchen cabinets. The right pull came along (a catalog find) for just $1.25 apiece.
Their Midcentury Modern furniture. Their light fixtures. The curious “mobile” hanging in their living room. The long sink in the bathroom upstairs. Even the snappy checkerboard siding on the back of the house.
All of that was either hidden treasure or major shopping coup on their part. (See “Where’d They Get That?”)
The last major projects to tackle: the island in the kitchen and the staircase to the second floor. (The temporary stair still stands.) They’re working out the final designs.
As for the $5,200 in the sauerkraut jar?
“It was earmarked for the stair,” Vieceli says with a chuckle. “So I guess it’s still sitting in the bank.”
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WHERE’D THEY GET THAT? Homeowners John Hopkins and Elliot Vieceli are experts at stumbling upon unexpected treasures and turning them into surprising and wonderful home furnishings and accents. Here are some of their mysteries, decoded.
Aluminum pendant lights
Hopkins and Vieceli found these fixtures ($20 each) at the Kane County Flea Market. Their electrician rewired them and dropped them from a junction box, attached to an exposed conduit.
Funky siding
It’s asphalt roof shingles, about $1.50 a square foot, arranged in a checkerboard pattern on the back of their house. The idea came from one of their architecture professors who did the same at his summer house.
Affordable artwork
The painting ($200) was a find at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago semiannual student sale. Editor’s note: The next sale is Nov. 18 and 19 at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago Ballroom, 112 S. Michigan Ave. For information, call 312-899-7460.
Sconces
Their own concoction used throughout the house, composed of bulb guards from The Home Depot plus vintage ceramic sockets (about $5 each at Salvage One, 1840 W. Hubbard St., 312-733-0098). Their electrician rigged the pieces into sconces.
Midcentury Modern chairs
These were give-aways from friends and flea-market finds. The molded fiberglass chairs are vintage Charles and Ray Eames pieces; the wire chair, Harry Bertoia. The two “tuliplike” chairs are Saarinen knockoffs. (The Eero Saarinen dining table, too, came free from a friend moving to London.)
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And where did they get that?
More secrets to the mundane-to-clever transformations made by John Hopkins and Elliot Vieceli for their East Village home. As mentioned on the cover, prices may have changed since they made their purchases and some items may no longer be available.
1. Danish modern furniture:
Giveaways from Hopkins’ parents that now reside in Hopkins and Vieceli’s living room. It is the furniture of his childhood.
2. Vintage marble counter:
Found in the half bath. Cost $65 at Architectural Artifacts, 4325 N. Ravenswood Ave., 773-348-0622.
3. Metro shelving base:
At organizational and hardware stores. See www.metro.com for locations.
4. Vintage cast-iron sink:
Got free from friends who were remodeling their Riverside bungalow. It had been their kitchen sink. Hopkins and Vieceli had it reglazed and put it in their full bath upstairs.
5. Improvised vanity:
About $30 apiece for the two plastic storage units with aluminum legs at IKEA, 1800 E. McConnor Pkwy., Schaumburg, 847-969-9700.
6. Primitive sculpture:
Actually old clay chimney pots that sit behind the chairs in the living room. One is from their coach house out back; the other, a flea-market find.
7. Ceramic mobiles:
These are actually electrical insulators from “those big high-wire power lines,” Hopkins says. Found while hiking in the woods in Wisconsin. They sat in their basement for a number of years before Vieceli figured out what they might become — as well as the cable system for hanging them in the living room.
— Karen Klages
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Make your own sconce
While the sconces made by John Hopkins and Elliot Vieceli are composed of wire bulb guards found in the electrical aisles of The Home Depot for dollars apiece plus vintage ceramic sockets (about $5 each) found at Salvage One (1840 W. Hubbard St., 312-733-0098), we’ve found alternative materials so you and your electrician can make your own version.
You can order a metal housing similar to the ones from The Home Depot (which are no longer available there) from Evergreen Oak Electric/Crest Lighting, 3300 N. Sheffield Ave., Chicago, 773-525-8000. Ask for the McGill Wire Lamp Guards (product number V-2100); they are about $12 apiece. Evergreen/Crest also can order a porcelain socket similar to the ones used by Hopkins and Vieceli, although it will be a center-mount rather than the angle-mount shown on our cover. Ask for a one-piece Leviton Lampholder and Outlet (about $6 each).
With this version, the whole “sconce” can be assembled for less than $20.
— Karen Klages
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kklages@tribune.com
