I recently traveled three thousand miles to visit a house that I knew only from a small black and white photo on page 260 of the “Field Guide to American Houses.” I did it to satisfy an impulse. It’s not a famous house, but, like every house in the guide, it does have enough architectural interest to be included in such a guide book.
For 15 or 20 years I’ve had a photocopy image of this house pinned up on the bulletin board behind my drafting station. Like most images on my “inspiration board,” the house appealed to me because of its exuberant embrace of some aspect of architecture. In this case, it was an energetic example of a “Stick Style” house from the 1870s that had a two story tall porch with a grand gable shape reaching three stories in height. Behind that gable was a tower room jutting skyward (I chose to envision that as a bedroom – and what a fantastic room for a kid to grow up in) with a dormer perfectly ensconced on the side of that steep roof. It looked like a great house to wake up in on Christmas morning.
My bulletin board also has an image of an art filled courtyard in a Mediterranean style house; a nighttime shot of a fantastically up-lit neoclassic building, and an art deco theater with a great sense of style achieved at minimum cost. But it was the Stick Style house where my eye would linger. Fifteen or twenty years ago, during a day-dreamy moment, I allowed myself a wild idea – I could go and seek out that house. Hey, it was possible, even if highly unlikely. I pictured it on a city block in a tired neighborhood of a midsize city somewhere back east, probably in dire need of repair by now. The guide book gave no address, but the city of Stony Creek in Connecticut was listed – almost as far away as possible. Thus ended the idea.
But then we fast forward to autumn 2017. Melody and I had a visit planned to see Gwenna, now aged 25, for her week off from work in upstate New York. We would rent a car and take a road trip together that would include a stay at Provincetown on the tip of Cape Cod. The return to New York would take us through Connecticut. There it was – my chance to visit the pin up house.
I used the scant clues in the footnote to search online for more info about the house and got an exact address. Bingo. Then I used “street view” on google map to do a virtual drive-by tour. It wasn’t in town at all. It was on a narrow road studded with trees atop a grassy slope up from a shoreline. The house looked to be in great shape. And, best of all, it was reasonably close to the route I had chosen for our road trip. The adventure was back on.
The first day of the trip was spent in the fall colors of upstate New York where we picked up Gwenna in our rental car. Then came Provincetown on the very tip of Cape Cod. I made sure to take a hard look at some of the Cape Cod style house. Simple gable roofs with medium steep pitches. Basic window arrangements. Easy to like. Not unlike many houses in downtown Benicia. Before leaving “P-town,” we made sure to check out some sand dunes and dip our feet in the Atlantic Ocean (medium cold, in case you were wondering.)
A few hours later we had completed our drive to New Haven, Conn. where we stayed in the plainest airbnb room ever, right next to Yale University. It turns out the Yale campus is spread out over various city blocks and is only mildly interesting. I had selected these accommodations because we were just fifteen minutes away from The House.
Arising the next day, we had a limited amount of time to go visit the house because we wanted to leave a safety buffer of time to make it to a matinee showing of “Hamilton” in New York. I had paid scalper prices to get three tickets (up in the high seats) and there was no way my daughter was going to let us risk ruination because of something random like a freak traffic jam.

Photo by Steve McKee

As we headed toward the coastline to find the house, my cell phone guided us along a narrow tree lined road past attractive historic homes down to a bend in the road right at the shoreline of Long Island Sound. Out on the water were several nearby little islands with Queen Anne houses on each one of them. There was something unreal about that. This was Thimble Island Bay, known for its houses perched on rocky little islands. I really like it when I discover something totally cool by accident.
The road narrowed as we slowly drove up the last leg of Prospect Hill Road. We passed through a thick line of trees and, just like that, the house loomed into view on the left. It appeared at just about the same angle as the photo, but now was dazzling with high-def three-dimensional reality and vivid color. No more grainy black and white. Plus, the house was in great shape. We parked and I approached the big front porch. It was completely empty inside. No furniture and no “for sale” sign either. This meant there was no threat of someone coming home and getting upset by us ogling the house.
For 10 minutes or so, I peeked about, taking photos of interesting angles and details. I was glad that people cared enough about this house to maintain it this well. Like all good Stick Style houses, it used straight pieces of wood trim, called stick work, applied to the exterior to emphasize the basic wood frame structure underneath. The robust beams and curved corbels at the two story gable porch even gave it a sort of gothic look.
More than seeing the house, I think what made this whole visit remarkable was that I had used will power to make a whimsical notion become reality. This sort of thing was something I could use in other areas my life. I could imagine things, farfetched things, and then make them happen. I posed for a couple shots in front and then it was time to leave. And “Hamilton” wasn’t half bad either.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

In other news: Melody and I will be having an open house for our newly constructed house at 725 West 6th St. on Sunday, Dec. 3rd between 1 and 4, if anybody’s interested in seeing it before we move in.

Steve McKee is a Benicia architect. He can be reached on the web at: www.smckee.com or at (707) 746-6788.
All rights reserved.

Sharing is caring!